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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
- 13
- 14
- 15
A/N: I do apologise for the delay in updates. But my muses apparently do not work so well in the snow. But if you think you've seen it all- you ain't seen nothing yet. ;-)

Shimmering clear gloss with the slightest hint of blue frosted her lips like a frozen windowpane after winter’s first snowfall. She pouted at her reflection and turned to the side. Hermione had transformed into an ice princess. The dress fit like a glove; a very comfortable, sexy glove. Her eyelids were dusted with a shimmery powder frosty blue to match the gown and her lashes lined with little white snowflakes. It had taken some time to decide what to do with her hair; to leave it up or wear it down; attempt to straighten it, or put in curls. After a long debate with her mirror self she had decided to gather it back and pin it in place, allowing it to flow down over her shoulders in soft waves. She’d used the ribbon that had been wrapped around the dress box and with a bit of transfiguration had made a silver circulate with the frosty blue ribbon threaded through the metal and placed it on her hair like a tiara.

            The shoes were the perfect fit and peaked out just slightly from beneath the gown. And the necklace draped beautifully over her neck, clasping just so behind her and shimmering in the light of her room. Attempting to transfigure the earrings had been less successful. Try as she might she could not transform the rubies to the precious shade of icy blue that matched the rest of her ensemble. She sighed. “If only there were a way to make them blue.” Before her eyes a fiery liquid began to swirl from within the center of the ruby stones and suddenly they were frosty blue ice diamonds. “Oh my,” she gasped, turning them over in her hand. “Of course!” she nearly slapped her palm against her forehead. “Just like the faeries…” she chuckled and then set the earrings down. “Make them red,” she said and watched again as the earrings transformed their stones. With another quick utterance she matched the earrings to her necklace and set them into her ears.

            Hermione was finally ready for the party. Her stomach squirmed with anticipation; she would find out who had sent her all the lavish gifts. The stone floor echoed wildly beneath her glass slippers as she began her slow ascent up the stairs to the staff room. The timepiece had indicated that it was just past seven when she left her chambers but she was not worried about arriving late; in fact she preferred the notion to arriving early and being the only one there. The house elves had no doubt taken care of sending everything up to the party and the only thing that remained on her mind was who her secret Santa really was and how she was going to react when she discovered his or her true identity.

            “You look like something that waltzed out of a fairytale book,”

            The voice startled her as she reached for the banister on the short staircase leading up to the staff room. Hermione turned slowly to see who had spoken and she blushed. “You really think so, Remus?”

            “A true fairytale princess, Hermione, you’ve really outdone yourself.”

            “These are all gifts,” she smoothed her palms down the front of her gown. “I feel like a princess,” she giggled and then smiled. “You look lovely; green really does suit you quite well.”

            “Thank you,” he smiled and stepped toward her offering her his arm. The wolf was donned in a deep green set of dress robes with little gold snowflake cufflinks and silvery trim around the collar. His hair had grown longer and was tied loosely at the base of his neck in a ponytail. He did look handsome. “Ready for your secret Santa reveal?” he asked as he reached for the door.

            “More than anything, Remus, more than anything.”

            As he pulled the door open he released Hermione’s arm from his and stood back to hold open the door for her. Her eyes were wide with a smile on her lips. It was more gorgeous then when they had decorated the Great Hall for the Yule Ball in her fourth year. The walls were icy and snow with the blue decorations everywhere. She could hardly believe her eyes at the enormous Christmas tree over near the window; trimmed in blues and silvers, it looked incredible. A long table near the far end of the room was overloaded with all sorts of goodies; fruitcake, cookies, eggnog, Christmas cakes and more. It was warm inside despite the enchantment of falling snow and Hermione had to take a second glance when she gazed at the window.

            Double French doors that appeared to lead out onto a balcony rested where the crumbling old window ledge used to and she gawked in amazement as Filius Flitwick tottered in from outside. “Balcony has punch and things,” he said to no one in particular before helping himself to a large glass of eggnog.

            Remus had edged in behind Hermione and patted her gently on the shoulder. “Let’s mingle, shall we?”

            As she made her way over to the table to retrieve one of her cookies every eye in the room seemed to turn its attention to her, but she didn’t mind it in the least. She was finally a fairytale princess. Hermione made her way over to the fireplace where Rolanda, Minerva, and Albus all stood and for the first time she noticed the faint Christmas carols floating in the background. It truly was a wonderful Christmas party.

            “Happy Christmas,” she said and bowed into the conversation.

            “Happy Christmas,” she was greeted in return.

            “You look like a knockout,” Madam Hooch grinned. “Where did you find that getup?” The older witch was donned in a pair of purple holiday robes, with little snowmen dotted around the belt that cinched her waist.

            Hermione blushed. She was the only person in the room not donned in formal robes but to say that she wasn’t formally dressed would have been an outright lie. In fact she was certain that she’d managed to outdo the entire Hogwarts staff despite not donning robes. “It was my twelfth present,” she said and slowly spun around, letting the long gauzy skirt flow out around her. “And it’s wonderful.”

            “You do look lovely,” Minerva said. She had chosen a very subtle set of green robes, trimmed in ruby with gold accents. They looked elegant but nothing too flashy. “And what a present.”

            The headmaster smiled. He was donned in a bright blue set of formal robes with fluffy white lace collars and cuffs; printed on the fabric were various Christmas ornaments and candy canes. “A very personal present, someone must have put great care into knowing you well,” he winked.

            Hermione couldn’t help but blush. “I suppose so…”

            “Speaking of which,” Rolanda Hooch nudged the elder wizard. “When are you going to tell us who had who?”

            Minerva rolled her eyes she didn’t have the energy to correct the woman’s grammar. But with questioning eyes of her own she turned to look at the headmaster. “Yes, Albus, I admit I am curious to know who sent you the twelve drums of dragon’s blood…”

            “Forget the dragon’s blood, I want to know who got Hermione that dress,” Hooch said.

            Hermione excused herself and stepped away from the group as they quarreled over exactly when they would reveal the identities of secret Santa. She searched the room but saw Remus was engaged in a hearty conversation with Hagrid and she sighed. Perhaps a breath of fresh air would calm her nerves. She stepped toward the French doors and slowly pulled one back; the glass panes were frosted with snow from the outside, or perhaps the inside she couldn’t tell.

            It was cold outside; colder than the staff lounge, but it was evident some sort of weathering charm had been cast around the balcony. Snow was falling gently, slowly in big flakes and melting against her bare shoulders. The railing of the balcony was lined with green holly and bright red bows. Glancing up, despite the snow, she could see dozens and dozens of stars dotting the ebony night sky. It was a wintery wonderland and despite the chill it warmed Hermione’s heart to just be standing there; glass slippers, evening gown, and glittering jewelry, like a princess awaiting her prince on Christmas Eve.

            “It is quite cold out here,” he said.

            The sound of his voice sent a shiver up her spine. Hermione turned slowly, drawing her eyes up to meet his. He stood off to the side of the balcony disguised in the shadows until he took a step forward and was bathed in the pale moonlight filtering down through the falling snowflakes. Severus Snape was wearing a set of very formal black dress robes. They were tailored to his figure; revealing his this waist, flat stomach, and firm shoulders. The robes were lined with silver; the buttons the same shiny colour as the lining. His hair was sleek, pulled back at the base of his neck in a ponytail and for a moment she felt her heart leap into her throat. He looked like a Christmas prince.

            His footfalls were silent against the stone of the balcony as he approached her; Hermione frozen to her spot, eyes watching his. He stood but a breath apart from her, his lips poised to speak. She held her breath, waited, daring not to blink as he gazed into her eyes. Slowly his hand reached forward as if to cup her cheek and Hermione tilted her head slightly; his fingers clutched an errant curl and slid it gently behind her ear. His touch sent jolts through her body and had she noticed the chill before it was long gone.

            She was certain she was blushing; her cheeks a bright red. Her throat was dry and she longed to find her voice; to say thank you, or anything at that point, but her lips would not part and she could not will herself to speak. But she nodded with a smile and tried her best not to blush further. She was glittering in the moonlight, her whole being glowing; the glass shoes catching the reflection of the snowflakes as she slowly stepped back from him.

            His fingers were warm as they gently caught her hand; wrapping it in his. She was frozen once more; marveling at how much larger his hands were than hers, but how gentle they felt against her. Before she saw him move it had happened; his lips were pressed against the top of her hand, still held by his, and in a fleeting moment her hand was once more at her side. “You do look lovely this evening, Professor Granger.” He said.

            Her body was tingling, her legs threatening to collapse beneath her; Hermione’s eyes were wide, her lips frozen together. But before she could find her voice he had found his again. “They are announcing the Secret Santas…I am sure it isn’t something you wish to miss.”

            With her eyes locked on his she felt her feet moving and he was suddenly further away than he had been before. She had moved back to the French doors, unable to take her eyes from him, until he turned his back to her and gazed out over the railing into the darkness. Hermione turned and stepped back inside, snowflakes nestled in her hair.

            Dumbledore stood near the fireplace with every witch and wizard of the Hogwarts faculty gathered near him, eagerly awaiting his response. “This year has been great fun and I think you’ve all outdone yourselves with your gift giving abilities,” he beamed and then pulled from his pocket a tiny pan pipe. Blowing on it produced no sound but the dishes in the room; as they had come from the Hogwarts kitchens; began to change colours. “Some of you have come up with very creative gifts as well,” he gestured to the spice drop bearing tree that Hermione had not noticed sitting on the mantelpiece of the fireplace. “And I imagine there are many of you who are eager to hear me stop laboring on over the gifts and start revealing who sent them to you.”

            There were many claps and cheers of agreement to his statement. “But what fun would it be if I simply told you? Hmm?” he chuckled. “So instead, here in this room, I have hidden a stocking with your name on it. And inside the stocking…there you will find the identity of your secret Santa,” he smiled.

            Before he could finish speaking Rolanda had already begun moving furniture. She was bent over beneath the long table stacked with food when Flitwick cried out. “There’s a stocking there,” he was pointing to one of the festive garlands strung from the ceiling. Nestled amongst the bright red ribbon was a stocking.

            Remus waved his wand and brought it down. “Minerva, this one is yours,” he said and handed the stocking to her.

            Minerva reached into the stocking and withdrew a tiny broomstick, draped with a black and white striped cloth. She smiled. “Rolanda,” she chuckled and then hugged the flying instructor. The two shared a quick peck on the lips and everyone clapped. One person revealed many more to go.

            Two more stockings appeared; one tucked behind the bowl of eggnog and the other stuck along the brick of the chimney side. “This one is Poppy’s,” said Rolanda, as she handed it to the mediwitch. Hermione frowned. She had delivered one of her gifts personally from Professor Snape.

            Poppy Pomphrey reached into the stocking and withdrew a tiny stack of dusty books, one of which fell open and a loud; “shhh!” escaped from its pages. The mediwitch chuckled. “Oh, Irma, honestly!”

            The librarian flushed a bit and toddled forward to wrap her arms around the woman. They too shared a quick kiss and again everyone clapped. Hermione, however, was too busy with the gears in her head cranking overtime. But if he had not given the gifts to Poppy Pomphrey how had he come into possession of them? And then who was he really giving gifts to? But her train of thoughts were interrupted as Rolanda was shouting again.

            “Dumbledore, this is your stocking.”

            Albus took the stocking and with a big grin on his lips reached in and pulled out a handful of tiny plastic light bulbs, electric plugs, and rubber ducks. “Ah, Miss Hermione Granger, the muggle studies professor,” he smiled and moved toward her. “And might I say you look stunning in that dress,” he added, giving her a firm hug. “I shall treasure my dragon’s blood drums, but nothing more so than the three pairs of socks,” he added.

            More stockings were found, and Hermione was perhaps beginning to wonder if somehow her stocking had been misplaced until Remus pointed to the large armchair in the corner near the balcony doors. “I think that’s a stocking I see peeking out under the pillow there,” he said.

            Hermione moved quickly across the room and snatched it up. Sure enough her name glittered on the white furry muff of the stocking. She bit her lower lip. Inside was some tiny trinket that would reveal the identity of her Secret Santa. All eyes were suddenly on her and she was certain that the knots in her stomach were about to explode. Her heart thundered in her chest and her fingers trembled as she reached into the stocking.

            Clutching the object she drew it slowly from the stocking. In her palm was a tiny cauldron, bubbling, with a stirring rod rotating slowly inside. Her heart skipped a beat and her face paled. But she did her best to hide her shock, and coughed slightly before speaking. “It would appear Professor Snape drew my name,” she said and looked around the room. Though many faces were resting on her, none belonged to him.

            “He was out on the balcony a bit ago,” Pomona Sprout said, “Great bat, probably still brooding, you know how he hates the holidays,” several chuckles arose from the crowd.

            Hermione bowed her head and turned toward the French doors. The staff paid her no mind as they began searching for the remaining stockings. She slipped out onto the balcony; her heart racing, the snow falling once more in her hair. Her fingers were trembling, her whole body practically quaking. It was him. She couldn’t believe it; the luxuries, the lingerie, the memories; all of it was him. And she was a princess because of him. Again she bit her lower lip and approached the darkened ledge of the balcony. But Hermione Granger was alone. Severus Snape was nowhere to be seen.

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The Twelve Days of Secret Santa