Disclaimer: Now you know I'm not J.K.Rowling and I know I'm not
J.K.Rowling, so we'll say no more about it.
A/N: Actually, the Christmas punch probably won't come into this for a few chapters, but the idea for the title hit me in the middle of the night and it was too perfect to pass up.
"Only two more weeks until the holidays!" Ron exulted as he, Harry, and Hermione hurried toward their Transfiguration class.
"Yeah," said Hermione gloomily, fingering the strap of her book bag. "And I've been having so much fun in my classes I don't want to stop." Ron began to back away from her, holding his fingers up in a cross, and she hastily added, "Kidding, Ron. Just kidding. I mean, I'm not *that* geeky, am I?"
Ron nudged Harry and muttered, "Don't answer that." Harry stifled a snort and Hermione pretended not to notice as they swung around the corner. Suddenly, the bell rang.
Hermione moaned. "Oh, no, we can't be late to Transfiguration *again.*" She opened the door resignedly and slipped into the classroom with Ron and Harry trailing behind her.
McGonagall had already started the lesson and looked up quickly as they entered guiltily, skulking to their seats and hoping they hadn't been noticed. Apparently, it was too much to hope for.
"How many tardies does that make this week, Miss Granger?" she asked sharply, looking over her glasses at the three of them.
"Three, Professor," said Hermione in a small voice, hastily pulling out her book and trying to look busy. She looked so miserable that Harry felt compelled to come to her defense.
"It was really my fault, Professor," he put in quickly. "I stayed after class to talk with Professor Sprout and Hermione and Ron were waiting for me." Hermione shot him a grateful look as McGonagall turned her beady gaze on him.
She looked piercingly at him for a few seconds, then finally said, "Very well, Potter. See that it doesn't happen again." Harry breathed a huge sigh of relief as McGonagall turned away and continued the day's lesson.
Harry paid close attention during class, hoping to make up for his irresponsibility. If he'd hoped to avoid a talk with McGonagall, though, he was disappointed. At the end of class, she told him to stay behind for a moment.
"We'll wait outside," Ron called over his shoulder as he and Hermione left the room. Harry suddenly felt alone and unprotected. He stood before McGonagall's desk, waiting for the blow to fall. But it never came.
Instead, McGonagall looked embarrassed. She reddened faintly and shuffled items on her desk for a few minutes before speaking. Harry waited politely, wondering how long this was going to take. Finally, McGonagall spoke.
"I'd like you to do me a favor, Potter," she said, looking embarrassed. "You're going to Hogsmeade this weekend, right?"
"Yes, Professor," Harry replied, wondering where this was leading.
"Well, you see, the situation is this. I'd like to get a special present anonymously for...er...another teacher, but I'll never be able to get away from him long enough to buy it. And of course I couldn't give it to him in person. So I was wondering if you could possibly...um..."
"Get it for you and deliver it to him?" Harry finished. McGonagall nodded, relieved.
"Exactly, Potter. Now listen carefully. At Honeyduke's there are enormous boxes of Chocolate Frogs selling for one Galleon apiece. Do you know the ones I'm talking about?"
Harry nodded quickly. He and Ron had drooled over those very boxes every Hogsmeade visit for the last three months.
"Good. If you could also go to the bookstore next door and..." McGonagall was going into default teacher mode and Harry felt it was best not to interrupt her. Quietly, he pulled a piece of parchment out of his bag and began taking notes as McGonagall continued with her lengthy list of presents for her secret love.
"...I know he's wanted one of those forever, so make sure you get one to go with the gloves," McGonagall wound up several minutes later. Harry was scribbling frantically, still trying to remember whether to get cream or beige earmuffs. McGonagall looked rather concerned. "I wasn't going too fast for you to get all that down, was I, Potter?"
"Oh, no, not at all," Harry lied quickly. He was beginning to feel sorry for whoever McGonagall's crush was and hoped his office was big enough to store all the things he'd be getting this Christmas. Who could it be? Harry started running through all the likely male teachers in his head: Flitwick? Probably too short. Binns? Too transparent. Dumbledore? Too old. Surely not-
"Professor?" he asked timidly.
McGonagall jumped. "What is it, Potter?"
"You know, if I'm going to deliver all this stuff, I'll have to know who to give it to. So, um, who, uh, exactly is it?" Harry waited with bated breath while McGonagall turned beet red and rearranged her desk again.
At last she replied in a whisper so low he could barely hear it. "Professor Snape."
Harry froze. He had been half expecting this, but finding out for sure left him in a state of shock. In a daze, he heard himself say, "Thank you, Professor. Don't worry, I'll take care of everything," as he got up to leave.
Once outside the room, he leaned against the door, still weak with surprise at this betrayal from the head of his own house. Ron and Hermione asked him what was wrong, but he could only shake his head in reply. As they headed down the corridor toward the Great Hall for lunch, there was only one thought in Harry's mind: How hard can it be to buy Christmas presents for your mortal enemy?
A/N: We'll find out, won't we? I'm sorry, but I've always wanted to pair Snape and McGonagall to see how it would work out. By the way, if anyone knows how to get italic and bold lettering to show up, PLEASE TELL ME!!!!! The asterisks get annoying after a while. Coming As Soon As I Can Write It: Chapter Two.
A/N: Actually, the Christmas punch probably won't come into this for a few chapters, but the idea for the title hit me in the middle of the night and it was too perfect to pass up.
"Only two more weeks until the holidays!" Ron exulted as he, Harry, and Hermione hurried toward their Transfiguration class.
"Yeah," said Hermione gloomily, fingering the strap of her book bag. "And I've been having so much fun in my classes I don't want to stop." Ron began to back away from her, holding his fingers up in a cross, and she hastily added, "Kidding, Ron. Just kidding. I mean, I'm not *that* geeky, am I?"
Ron nudged Harry and muttered, "Don't answer that." Harry stifled a snort and Hermione pretended not to notice as they swung around the corner. Suddenly, the bell rang.
Hermione moaned. "Oh, no, we can't be late to Transfiguration *again.*" She opened the door resignedly and slipped into the classroom with Ron and Harry trailing behind her.
McGonagall had already started the lesson and looked up quickly as they entered guiltily, skulking to their seats and hoping they hadn't been noticed. Apparently, it was too much to hope for.
"How many tardies does that make this week, Miss Granger?" she asked sharply, looking over her glasses at the three of them.
"Three, Professor," said Hermione in a small voice, hastily pulling out her book and trying to look busy. She looked so miserable that Harry felt compelled to come to her defense.
"It was really my fault, Professor," he put in quickly. "I stayed after class to talk with Professor Sprout and Hermione and Ron were waiting for me." Hermione shot him a grateful look as McGonagall turned her beady gaze on him.
She looked piercingly at him for a few seconds, then finally said, "Very well, Potter. See that it doesn't happen again." Harry breathed a huge sigh of relief as McGonagall turned away and continued the day's lesson.
Harry paid close attention during class, hoping to make up for his irresponsibility. If he'd hoped to avoid a talk with McGonagall, though, he was disappointed. At the end of class, she told him to stay behind for a moment.
"We'll wait outside," Ron called over his shoulder as he and Hermione left the room. Harry suddenly felt alone and unprotected. He stood before McGonagall's desk, waiting for the blow to fall. But it never came.
Instead, McGonagall looked embarrassed. She reddened faintly and shuffled items on her desk for a few minutes before speaking. Harry waited politely, wondering how long this was going to take. Finally, McGonagall spoke.
"I'd like you to do me a favor, Potter," she said, looking embarrassed. "You're going to Hogsmeade this weekend, right?"
"Yes, Professor," Harry replied, wondering where this was leading.
"Well, you see, the situation is this. I'd like to get a special present anonymously for...er...another teacher, but I'll never be able to get away from him long enough to buy it. And of course I couldn't give it to him in person. So I was wondering if you could possibly...um..."
"Get it for you and deliver it to him?" Harry finished. McGonagall nodded, relieved.
"Exactly, Potter. Now listen carefully. At Honeyduke's there are enormous boxes of Chocolate Frogs selling for one Galleon apiece. Do you know the ones I'm talking about?"
Harry nodded quickly. He and Ron had drooled over those very boxes every Hogsmeade visit for the last three months.
"Good. If you could also go to the bookstore next door and..." McGonagall was going into default teacher mode and Harry felt it was best not to interrupt her. Quietly, he pulled a piece of parchment out of his bag and began taking notes as McGonagall continued with her lengthy list of presents for her secret love.
"...I know he's wanted one of those forever, so make sure you get one to go with the gloves," McGonagall wound up several minutes later. Harry was scribbling frantically, still trying to remember whether to get cream or beige earmuffs. McGonagall looked rather concerned. "I wasn't going too fast for you to get all that down, was I, Potter?"
"Oh, no, not at all," Harry lied quickly. He was beginning to feel sorry for whoever McGonagall's crush was and hoped his office was big enough to store all the things he'd be getting this Christmas. Who could it be? Harry started running through all the likely male teachers in his head: Flitwick? Probably too short. Binns? Too transparent. Dumbledore? Too old. Surely not-
"Professor?" he asked timidly.
McGonagall jumped. "What is it, Potter?"
"You know, if I'm going to deliver all this stuff, I'll have to know who to give it to. So, um, who, uh, exactly is it?" Harry waited with bated breath while McGonagall turned beet red and rearranged her desk again.
At last she replied in a whisper so low he could barely hear it. "Professor Snape."
Harry froze. He had been half expecting this, but finding out for sure left him in a state of shock. In a daze, he heard himself say, "Thank you, Professor. Don't worry, I'll take care of everything," as he got up to leave.
Once outside the room, he leaned against the door, still weak with surprise at this betrayal from the head of his own house. Ron and Hermione asked him what was wrong, but he could only shake his head in reply. As they headed down the corridor toward the Great Hall for lunch, there was only one thought in Harry's mind: How hard can it be to buy Christmas presents for your mortal enemy?
A/N: We'll find out, won't we? I'm sorry, but I've always wanted to pair Snape and McGonagall to see how it would work out. By the way, if anyone knows how to get italic and bold lettering to show up, PLEASE TELL ME!!!!! The asterisks get annoying after a while. Coming As Soon As I Can Write It: Chapter Two.