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So This Is Christmas.....	By : Remarkable Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 6155 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 1-So This Is Christmas.....
- 1
So This Is Christmas

‘So this is Christmas,’ Hermione thought, idly sipping her glass of cheap wine. “Happy Christmas, Bear, “ she wished the old, grizzled half-Kneazle that slumbered away at her feet. It was the ugliest, saddest thing you’d ever wish to see, and the very reason she’d adopted if from the magical animal’s pound. Ron had hated it, much as he’d despised just about everything in their marriage. The very traits that had attracted him to her became a sore bit of jealousy allowed to fester and wound until he’d finally slapped her with divorce parchments just six months prior. At least she hadn’t a baby in her belly to complicate matters like her good friend Luna.

Both children were, thankfully, at Hogwarts, safe and sound in Gryffindor tower and under the watchful eye of Headmaster Flitwick. She imagined her little munchkins, how big they’d grown. Rose was probably yelling at her brother, in trouble over some hijinks with his other Weasley cousins. Then she’d nag him to study and he’d call her a bossy swot. A little smile tugged at the corner of her lips. They reminded her so much of her and Ron and that age. Her and Ron……

No, she refused to allow another tear to fall. Her children were safe and enjoying a special Hogwarts celebration with their friends. An enchanted fireworks display donated by their Uncles, an old fashioned ice skating championship and the Nutcracker play were among new holiday traditions adopted by the school to pull together inter-house relations and garner support for further excursions into extra-curriculars.

The family winter ball had been held the previous week, with an extra three day extension for children to spend at home with their families. Her children had spent that time with her and her parents, and would spend the remainder over the New Year with their father and Grandparents at Grimmauld Place with Harry’s brood. It was understood that she was not welcome, however badly Harry felt in excluding her. He wasn’t about to go against his wife and in-laws for the sake of family harmony, not that she could really blame him. Twenty million Weasley’s to one Hermione weren’t the best odds.

Still, she felt alone, and abandoned. She huffed, refusing to feel sorry for herself. Hermione flicked on her television and settled on a sappy Hallmark channel movie. She got up and returned with a carton of Chunky Monkey, her fuzzy bunny slippers and a huge mug of tea.

Three hours and a number of guffaws, tears and sighs later the Gryffindor witch lay snoring softly against the worn cushions of her hand-me-down couch, half-Kneazle licking the remainder of ice cream from the bottom of the carton and the television having gone to a generic snowy scene with soft Christmas carols playing.

The church next door to her small home woke her up at midnight when the beautiful but annoying bells pealed the end of Mass. A crowd of Muggles poured from the entryway and spilled onto her walk below. With a start she sat up, momentarily disoriented. Realizing it was Christmas day she looked to the picture of her children on the tree and whispered, “Happy Christmas, kids.”

A glint of silver caught her eye. What was this? Hermione padded to her tree and found a small box nestled under the boughs. This hadn’t been there just a few hours prior, she was sure of it.

Ignoring the dull roar of chatter and excited Christmas revelers outside, she sat down and fingered the lovely, sparkly silver ribbon that adorned the otherwise plain-looking wooden box. It looked rather old.

Nimble fingers, calloused from years of Potions making, gently coaxed ribbon apart and lifted the lid. A curious sight lay inside. Hermione lifted out the tiniest looking glass she’d ever seen. A miniature reflection of her tatty, un-made-up state stared back at her.

“Gods, I look a fright!” she laughed, letting it trail off when she sadly remembered there was no one around to laugh with her.

The looking glass was cute, as if meant for a larger model doll’s house. It also looked to be an antique.

“Well, someone has a unique sense of humor,” she mused.

With a shrug she gently laid the box and mirror on the coffee table and rose to tidy up before heading to her own bed.

With a backward glance she sighed wistfully. “I wish it were large enough to step through, so I might find the one person that was truly meant for me, and me for him. I am so tired of this loneliness.”

A few moments later and she was back in the living room to retrieve her pet, who was her only bed companion for many years now, when she let out a brief scream.

The looking glass lay large as life, skewed to one side as it leaned precariously off the edge of her coffee table. Rushing forward, Hermione managed to grasp its side and gently lift it to a standing position. It was very heavy. With a murmured charm she levitated it to lean against the wall by her now-cold hearth.

“Just like out of a fairy-tale!”

Her cat-Kneazle meowed plaintively.

“Stranger things have happened, Bear,” she addressed the indifferent animal.

Hermione studied every aspect of the mirror from rune carvings so deeply embedded and worn around the inside edge she could barely read them to the soft texture of metal which led her to suspect it was a solid gold frame. Time flew by and she realized it had her fascinated for well over an hour and a half.

Hermione Granger was enthralled. “Bear, I’m going to get properly dressed and research this mirror!” she exclaimed with excitement which quickly turned to irritation. “Oh, buggar! It’s Christmas Day and everything will be closed today and the ‘morrow. Well, I’ll just have to sneak over to Grimmauld and see if there’s anything in the library. The wards will still let me Apparate in and out. No will know I was ever there.”

Satisfied with her plan, the matured witch lightly trotted up the stairs and sighed along a hot, lavender scented shower.

Downstairs, Bear hissed as the mirror’s surface began to pulse and glow, an inner light starting softly at the middle and expanding until it reached every part of the glass. With a final burst like a strobe the surface cleared and a very bewildered Severus Snape fell through, clutching a bottle of Firewhisky in one hand and a Potions journal in the other.

“What the fuck is this?” he cursed, falling hard on his knees in his stubborn unwillingness to let go of either journal or bottle.

With great care and a ginger wince he rose, lean, pale bare feet padding around the immediate vicinity. An incredulous glance took in the mirror from whence he came. “Bloody Albus; I’ll bet my last genuine bottle of dragon-blood absinthe this is his doing. Magic mirrors, how – quaint,” he sneered to himself.

“Who’s there?”

Hermione’s question drifted down the stairs and lingered in Severus’ groaning mind.

‘I would have to end up in the swot’s place of residence, no less, on Christmas,’ he thought, turning to greet his surprised hostess.

“Professor? What in the world….?”

The question hung as an ornament on her very-Muggle tree. It dangled, unanswered. Severus held out his bottle of Firewhisky as if it held all of the answers to her unspoken question.

“Shall we?” He gestured to what he assumed to be her kitchen.

She nodded slowly, indicating her acceptance and led the way past his pajama-clad form. Thank the gods he had worn any; usually the wizard went without while in his own home.

Hermione said nothing as she took out two genuine crystal tumblers. They were her only keepsakes she’d taken from her shared possessions with Ron. After all, her parents had given them as a wedding gift and she was absurdly attached to the pair. Each child had been conceived following a light bout of drinking on their subsequent two wedding anniversaries. How ironic she would be drinking on this anniversary, what would have been their thirteenth, with another man. With a giggle she wondered if she’d follow the same tradition and have another baby. Wouldn’t that just take everyone by surprise? Her getting pregnant with her snarky, ex-Potions professor’s baby?

“Find something amusing, Mrs. Weasley?” Severus snapped, assuming she was laughing at him for some reason or another. He suddenly felt very self-conscious. Gods knew why. Any minute now her idiot husband was bound to wake up and come barreling in to accuse him of cheating with his wife. Severus was not in the mood. He was half drunk, randy as hell and now had been victim to one of what he suspected was the very late Headmaster’s inane Christmas presents he’d been subjected to every year since the man’s death.

“Granger, Professor, its Granger now. I’ve been divorced for six months.” Hermione very matter-of-factly placed the tumblers on her table and filled a generous portion from his bottle. She also had put on tea.

“Is it now? Well, well, trouble in paradise, eh?” he mused, sipping at his drink. The slow burn brought the only fire that came into his life and body these days. The rest of the world was as cold and dark around him as it ever had been.

“Yes, Sir, it is.” She sat, gazing at him curiously.

“So tell me. It was the mirror, wasn’t it.” It was a statement, and a rhetorical one at that.

So the years hadn’t dulled her wit, even if the humor was a bit dry.

“The mirror,” he agreed with a grunt.

She attended the tea, and remembering the Professor drinking coffee, black, at Order meetings, took out some instant and spooned some into the hot water.

“It’s all I have on hand, so I apologize if it’s not what you’re used to,” she said lightly, placing the steaming cup of strong, black Columbian in front of him.

She was apologizing it wasn’t his regular coffee, yet she remembered how he took it? Severus was reminded how he’d always been surprised with the young girl – no, woman now – at every turn.

“That was many years ago. You have quite the ability for recalling insignificant minutiae, Mrs. We- Ms. Granger,” he corrected none too smoothly.

Hermione shrugged, finishing off her Firewhisky very quickly and pouring herself another. “It’s served me well over the years. Customers appreciate attention to detail, and one can’t write down secret recipes when they’re in the selective business of backdoor Potions making.”

This confession did earn her a genuine smile. If she seemed shocked to see it, it didn’t register.

“You are simply full of pleasant surprises, aren’t you?”

“Am I? One would think you couldn’t wait to travel back to your home. You hated me when I was in school.”

“You assume much yet know very little, as it were,” he deadpanned.

Hermione nodded, nudging her cup forward in her hand for him to continue.

Severus allowed his hands to open wide, throwing them out to either side in an expansive stretch. His tall frame was no longer lanky and bony as it had been during the war. The lines on his face were deeper, but more filled out than they had ever been in his life. The black, silk pajamas also seemed filled out, but not in a soft way. They spoke of sculpted planes, broad angles, a narrow waist and strong legs that stretched before him as if he owned the place. His feet were enormous.

Hermione saw he’d caught her perusal of his person but he only smirked in a friendly way. “I never hated you. I had a role to play during the war. If I’d had the choice I’d have taken you under my wing and trained you myself. You are very lucky to have trained under Masters Mencken and Mencken. They are only two of four potions masters and mistresses this side of the globe I’d give anyone a recommendation to apprentice under.”

“Picky.”

“You have no idea.”

“I never hated you either.”

His sterile black gaze was inscrutable as he drained his coffee, then his Firewhisky in succession.

“Well, I’ve gotten my Christmas wish. A Gryffindor renounces her hatred for the great bat of the dungeons.”

“I never called you that!”

“Your little friends did, often enough.”

He leaned back in his chair, rocking on the two back legs. It was a very informal thing for him to do, but he was nearly completely sloshed.

“I corrected them in some very inventive ways.”

“Indeed. I’d like you tell me about that, sometime.”

“Are you extending an invitation for further social interaction, Professor?”

“It appears to be so, does it not?”

“So you are still a Professor.”

“Unfortunately. I couldn’t turn down Minerva. She needs some fool to take over the school when she retires next year.”

He said it so casually she almost didn’t catch the import of what he was saying.

“You’re going to accept the Headmaster’s position? But I thought that was an appointment the Board of Directors set and voted on!”

Severus waved a drunken hand towards her. “Politics, my dear. It’s always been Headmaster or Headmistress’s choice. The Board of Directors vote is a mere formality.”

“I didn’t know that,” she mused quietly.

“There are many things in this world that I don’t know of, either, such as how I bloody well ended up in your kitchen on Christmas Day through an enchanted mirror.”

“It was the mirror,” she replied, wincing when she realized how idiotic that sounded.

He could have come back with a scathing retort. In fact, Severus wasn’t sure what else held back his normally acerbic response except for the look of expectation in her eyes, the defense on the tip of her tongue and the familiar sense of rejection hanging over them both.

He stood and wobbled slightly, righting himself on the tabletop and advancing on her shrinking form. Severus Snape grabbed hold of his liquid courage with both hands and realized it was Hermione Granger he now held in front of him, having pulled her up from the table without as much as a by-your-leave, holding her so close he could smell her faint lavender scent from the shower.

His cock rose and hardened, throbbing painfully against the constricting black briefs he wore. That did not stop him from pushing it into her belly, causing her to gasp and those delicious chocolate brown eyes to light up with desire.

“Professor?” she questioned, his fingers going loose with his grip around each wrist.

He plucked the simple headband from her long curls and let them hang free, the ringlets still damp. They fell prettily around her shoulders, highlighting her softer, more mature and beautiful womanly features. She was quite a witch. In his estimation, Weasley was an utter fool for divorcing her.

“It’s Severus, kitten, do call me Severus.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He chuckled. The alcohol seemed to have gone to her head. The witch obviously couldn’t handle it.

Snape pulled her unresisting form into the living room and up the stairs to her bedroom. The pair didn’t notice that the mirror had mysteriously vanished from her living room, leaving a puzzled Kneazle-cat in its wake.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The morning sun tickled the back of Hermione’s eyelids with promise of a crisp, cold Christmas Day. Even though she was to spend it alone, she still had plans to research the mirror-

THE MIRROR!

Her eyes snapped open and took in the gorgeous, naked form of Severus Snape. Curious, sleep-wrought onyx orbs studied her even as she started to scramble from the bed. To her great dismay she, too, was as naked as the day she was born.

“Oh my God, Professor! I’m so sorry! You must think I’m a complete slut!”

She landed on the floor with a graceless crash, her backside connecting painfully with the cold wooden floor. Hermione continued talking at the speed of light, seemingly unable to rise from her fallen state.

“It’s just that you surprised me last night and I- it’s been so long since a man’s- and you were so close to me…. Oh, God!”

She covered her face in her hands, rocking back and forth in place. Her home was barely cold of her husband’s – ex-husband’s- presence. Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. He technically hadn’t shared a bed with her in five years, sleeping in the spare room after she’d caught him cheating on her with his publicist. He still refused to take on the full role of father to her obviously Weasley children. The ink from the divorce wasn’t even a year old. Wasn’t she supposed to mourn for a full year before she, well, before she-

“Hermione.”

Her head snapped up and came dangerously close to Severus Snape’s lips. It took him all of a micro-second to capture them in his own. He plundered her, leaning off the end of the bed, his finely sculpted shoulders in love with her fingertips the moment she touched them, edging the pads over the ripple of muscle that flexed when she caressed the curve.

“What- what?” she asked through his heady kisses.

“You think too much.” He pulled back from her, helping her back onto the bed. His eyes stayed gracefully locked with her confused, guilty ones.

“We haven’t done anything yet. You couldn’t hold your liquor, and as much of a bastard as I’m rumored to be, I do not take advantage of inebriated, vulnerable women.”

“But we’re naked, and in bed together!”

“Two adults can sleep in the same bed without engaging in sexual intercourse.”

Her face flushed prettily down to the rise of her breasts at his candid observation.

“I don’t remember.”

“I remember much. You were very- forthcoming about your life and depth of feeling last night.”

“I was?”

“You were.”

“Did I …. “

“No, you did not make a fool of yourself. You passed out somewhere between my answer to your question about the merging of modern molecular Muggle technology and titanium potions distillery equipment for the advanced sector.”

She ducked her head and attempted to cover up.

“Please don’t.”

“But you must think-“

“Hermione, I grow tired of your person informing me of what I must and must not think. Now, come over here and kiss me, or I shall be forced to ravish you in ways I can promise you’ve never been touched.”

“That’s a promise?”

“Yes.”

Hermione held her breath and let it out in a rush. What the hell. She had nothing to lose, and it was Christmas Day.

His lips were the softest pleasure she’d ever beheld. For a man that was well known for scathing insults and acerbic quips, she’d never have guessed his lips could bring such heights of ecstasy.

“Oh, God!”

“That’s Severus. There are no other deities in this room that I am aware of.”

Hermione smacked him lightly, teasingly on the back as his long hair teased her nipples. Its softness was marred by slight oiliness, but she assumed he had to wash frequently to keep that feature in check.

His lips closed gently over each rosy tip, in turn, and nibbled softly when her whimpers crescendoed when he bit.

“So sensitive, Hermione. Such a delicate flower, you need to be watered with care, tended with sincerity and depth of emotion, a man that will make love to you and not just use your body for a vessel. I am going to take you to Nirvana and back. Ride with me, sweet, beautiful creature. Come with me.”

The double entendre was not lost as she became incoherent with want, nimble fingers prying open the fleshy petals of her sex. Slipping two inside, the Potions professor hissed at the difficulty he had slipping them inside.

“So tight, with two children birthed from this delectable honey-pot. You are in for a treat, my sweet.”

His dulcet tones lulled her into a state of bliss while that wicked tongue took on a life of its own, licking and sucking at every inch of her sex. Up and down each bit of labia, he stretched them out and sucked on them in turn, fucking her with his tongue, licking down to the crack of her arse and back up to nibble again on her clit. His feasting took on an increased ardor, Severus’ hips grinding wantonly into her bed, trying to gain friction for the erection that had been denied the night before.

Feminine fingers tightened painfully in his hair, the aphrodisiac of her oncoming orgasm spurring him to redouble his efforts. Three fingers squeezed inside her tight vagina, pumping and curling, spreading her wetness up and around her clit and back in, relegating his ring finger to slipping into her arse when she clutched, shrieking like a banshee, bearing down on him like she were giving birth a third time.

Severus was suffocating. If he were to die, locked to the pussy of this gorgeous woman, he would die happy. His face was filled with her fluids, running hot and steady around his cheeks and into his hair and neck. After an eternity she released him. When he came up for air he let out a feral growl and pounced, causing her to shriek in terrified pleasure, his cock sinking into her with a vengeance.

“Severus, Severus! Oh! Oh! It’s too much, too much, slow….. oh god yes, slow…. Easy….. have mercy, your cock feels like a Quidditch bat!”

Snape raised his head from suckling at the junction between her breasts. “Now that is one I haven’t heard. Ten points to Gryffindor for ingenuity.”

Back at Hogwarts ten rubies dropped into Gryffindor’s House Cup.

Allowing her time to adjust, they reacquainted one another with a long, heated, open-mouthed kiss that resulted in Snape beginning to move inside of her tight heat, and the witch under him responding in kind by wrapping her legs around his lean hips and urging him on, returning his movements by meeting his thrusts and angling her hips for easier penetration.

Severus Snape made love to Hermione Granger, and she felt like it was the first time. Awe is a word that pales in comparison to the feelings coursing through her, the height and depth both frightening and magnificent. A volcanic eruption brewed, tightly coiled inside her lower belly and exploding when his thrusting became rougher, deeper, jerking her up the bed. There was no way his thick cock missed any part of her insides, including brushing over her g-spot and nudging her cervix on the tail end of every thrust. The sweet sting from his exertions spiraled her from one orgasm into another and she cried out his name.

“Severus!”

“Beautiful, beautiful witch, that’s right, come for me again and again!”

Snape rose to his knees and slipped her legs over his shoulders, affording him a greater angle to thrust.

“Fucking perfect,” he muttered, pumping hard and deep through her third orgasm.

He was amazed how much lube her body produced, squishing around his cock and dripping off of her and his conjoined bodies.

Snape reached between, swiping some cream from around his cock and blatantly tasted it, eyes locked with her passion-filled brown ones.

“I want you to come inside of me. Give me the one gift no one else can.”

It was the ultimate weakness for him; coming inside a woman. There was nothing better than filling a warm, clean pussy full of his seed. He imagined that she’d carry it in her for a few days, his essence a part of her, mingling with her fluids no matter how much she washed.

He would give it to her, and he’d give it to her good.

Severus pulled out, ignoring her cry of protest at the loss of his fullness inside of her.

“Turn around and brace yourself.”

Hermione barely had time to come round the end of her bed and grab the baseboard before he was in her again, spreading her arse cheeks and watching his cock slide in and out of her heat.

“Merlin, woman, you feel so fucking good. I’m going to give you your Christmas wish, love, here it comes.”

Gathering the final vestiges of control he gripped both of her hips and fucked her as she’d never been fucked before. His cock tore into her cunt at amazing speed, pleasuring her to an incoherent, babbling mess of woman that quaked and came around his dick a final time. When he felt her squeeze him in response to his ardor he roared and let go, shooting his seed deep inside of her, jet after jet of come spurting and hiding in the deepest recesses of her body and womb.

Spent, he draped himself over her back, half-way holding her up before moving her off to the bed.

The couple didn’t make it downstairs until well after noon. Well-wishers left their greetings via Owl, through her Floo and on her doorstep as she didn’t answer the bell.

Snape eventually told her of their conversation that fateful night, and she confessed to him her wish that had brought them together. Albus had indeed been the culprit behind the Christmas surprise, but how he knew they’d end up together, they would probably never know themselves.

Nine months later, a surprise of another kind took the newly married couple awhile to adjust to, but welcomed her all the same with open arms into their home when Sophia Prince Snape was born healthy and squalling, tiny black curling hair and slender fingers balled into fists bringing tears to her parent’s eyes, those of joy and happiness.

Hermione was careful, after the second subsequent New Years and a healthy son nine months after, to pack away those damned tumblers to pass on to one of her children when they married. Let them find out the hard way. After all, Christmas was a time of miracles, and she’d found four of her own and a loving man, which to her, was the greatest miracle of all.
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So This Is Christmas.....