Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters and am not making a profit out of this. Every-wonderful-thing else belongs to J. K. Rowling. This disclaimer covers all chapters.

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The Christmas Gift

Chapter One: Tears and Laughter

The calendar on his desk seemed to be mocking him. December the 24th. Yet another Christmas. Yet another year when he would go down to the Great Hall and be regarded with either hatred or pity. Hatred from his students; oh, yes, each and every one of them hated him, he made sure of that. Even now, that Voldemort was nothing more than a bad memory for them, more than six months after his defeat, he made sure no one was able to feel anything but hatred. He didn't mind hatred so much – at least it was a clean feeling – it was the pity that sickened him to his very marrow. The pity he saw in the eyes of the other teachers, the pity because he was there not because his loved ones had died or were on holiday, but because he had none. Because no one loved him, no one had ever loved him, not even once. But not this year. No more, never again. He would not go down there to be pitied, it stopped now.

He glanced at his clock: half past five. It was a good time to leave. He would go to Hogsmeade and rent a room for the night. Maybe two nights. Yes, that was probably better, two nights. He would come back to Hogwarts on the 26th and he was the one who pitied the first person to ask where he had spent Christmas. His decision made, he had no more reason to linger; he grabbed his cloak and left.

---

Tears streamed freely down her face and she made no effort to stop them or wipe them away. Her pain was too great, too fresh, had been entrapped inside her too tight, and now it had to break free. All around her there were cheerful smiles and bright decorations, while people hurried with coloured gifts, all clearly having somewhere to go. All adding to her pain. It wasn't as if she hadn't been asked, oh, no, she had, dozens of times, by her two best friends and a few of her relatives – but it somehow just didn't seem right. She would always be the odd one out, no matter how much her presence was appreciated, and she didn't think she could bear to see other families' happiness while her own had been so utterly destroyed. And the irony of it all, that she had felt so grateful that her parents had survived Voldemort... only to have them die in a senseless car crash four weeks before Christmas. She couldn't spend it with another family, it would be a betrayal to their memories... and yet, at the last minute, she had understood it would be as much of a betrayal not to acknowledge the season at all. To pretend a time her parents had taught her to cherish didn't exist. So she had decorated her house with morbid precision, set up a glorious Christmas tree and cooked all the customary courses. Even if she was to eat them, or pretend to eat them, all alone. Then, when she had thought everything was already in place, she had realised her tree lacked a star. It couldn't, it was unacceptable, Christmas trees at her parents' house had always had a star. The same star, beautiful and gold, shining atop it. She remembered her mother's words when she was just a small child.

"One day, Hermione, you will have your own home, when you're all grown up-"

"But I don't want to, mommy. I'll always want to be with you, can I? Please?"

Her mother had laughed then. "You can live with us for as long as you like, darling. But one day you'll want to live. And then, when it's Christmas, you'll have your very own house, with your very own tree and your very own star on top. And then daddy and I will come to visit, and bring you presents..."

Blinded by tears now, she got up and ran. Now she lived in Hogsmeade, and it would have been safe for her parents to come and visit. She had been looking forward to that Christmas ever since June, when Harry had defeated Voldemort... The lump in her throat tightened impossibly. She might not have been able to welcome her parents to a Christmas Eve at her very own house with her very own tree, but at least her very own tree would have her very own star on top; that part of her mother's happy prediction would come true.

---

It was a beautiful white Christmas, Severus noticed with more than a touch of sarcasm. How bloody perfect. How absolutely, bloody perfect that he should spend such a beautiful white Christmas finding that there were no rooms to rent for the night. Oh, but he would not go back to Hogwarts. He would not spend his Christmas Eve being pitied if it meant spending it on the street.

Suddenly he could think no more as all of the air was knocked out of him and something dressed in grey sent him tumbling to the snow-floor. Expecting to hear an apology of some sort, he was amazed at the words that actually left the grey-dressed thing's lips.

"The star! My star!"

He could recognise that voice anywhere. He had heard it for seven years, pestering him endlessly during Potions lessons. Hermione Granger, prefect, Head Girl and Harry Potter's best friend. Who now seemed frantic, searching desesperately for something in the snow. At last she seemed to find it – something wrapped in brown paper – and, after having felt it, sighed with some relief.

"My star."

"How very fortunate, Miss Granger, that your star is still in one piece. Were I able to say the same thing about my bones! Is this retribution, for what you considered ill treatment during the years you attended my classes?"

 She hadn't even stopped to see who she had knocked down until he spoke and, when he did, his acerbic comment had a refreshing effect. Hermione hadn't noticed just how sick and tired she was of everyone treating her as if she were labelled "fragile" until now. The tension inside of her seemed to ease a bit and she laughed, the first genuine laughter in a month. She laughed so hard she couldn't even get up from her kneeling position, and her eyes, which had been filled with tears of pain, were now filling with tears of mirth.

"Oh! Oh Gods, professor, I... I'm sorry..." she laughed harder and managed to say, still laughing, "had I known it was you and I would have pushed harder!"

Shock was the only thing Severus was able to feel. Not at what an onlooker would have perceived – a former student being rude to him – but at the fact that she had recognised his attempt at humour and was repaying him in kind. How very odd indeed that she hadn't just muttered an apology and rushed off to... wherever it was she was going. He found himself snorting.

"Well, thank you ever so much, Miss Granger. I'll remember to keep my identity hidden next time then, shall I?"

She was still shaking with laughter. After a few more minutes, however, the Potions Master had the distinct feeling there was more to it than just humour. Finally the laughter subsided and she calmed somewhat, sitting on the snow just as Severus got up. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Miss Granger?"

"I can't..." She clutched her stomach with her gloved hands and looked helplessly at him. "Can't get up..."

Automatically he extended her a hand that she gratefully accepted and helped her to her feet. As if on cue her star fell to the snow again and he picked it up.

"Your star."

She looked at the brown-wrapped thing as if it were something precious. "Thank you, professor." She met his gaze. "Thank you very much"

Once more he felt there was something more to her words than the obvious.

"You're quite welcome, Miss Granger." He answered with a slight upturning of the corners of his mouth. "Feel free to have me fetched from Hogwarts anytime you need to shove and mock someone."

Hermione smiled, surprised that there was no venomous sting to her words. Surprised at how easily a man she had never liked – respected, yes, but never liked – had succeeded without trying where so many others had failed. He had succeeded in brightening her day.

"I will. Merry Christmas, professor."

"Merry Christmas, Miss Granger."

The second he walked away she was assaulted by loneliness. How sad that the best she could hope for Christmas was to fall asleep as early as possible.

"Professor!" she called out reflexively. He turned.

"Yes?"

"Will you let me buy you a cup of tea, as a means to repairing the damage?"

Startled, Severus searched her face for signs of...  anything. Scorn, pity, anything, but found none. Except perhaps... she looked as he would have, weren't he so good at hiding his emotions, whenever he felt alone. She felt alone at Christmas? How very odd. Instinctively he knew the best he could do for her – and that was another disturbing notion, that he could actually do something for someone that did not involve spying – was to maintain their playful tone.

"I believe it is the least you can do, Miss Granger, after such an unacceptable behaviour towards an old man's bones."

Hermione laughed... gratefully?.. was the only way he could put it, and they were off to the Three Broomsticks.

---

Twenty minutes later none of them was feeling very playful anymore. The Three Broomsticks had been closed, as had every other place they had thought of. It was, after all, a quarter to seven on Christmas Eve – not many establishments counted on a pair of misfits looking for some tea. Severus' voice now held its more familiar quality, laced with tiredness.

"Miss Granger, this is futile. I thank you for your offer, but it seems we will have to have our tea some other time."

Her own voice was subdued. "Yes, I suppose you're right." He was about to make his goodbyes when she cut right across him. "You know... I have several different teas at home, and I live ten minutes away..." She broke off uncertainly. She could barely believe she was so needy after all that she was practically pleading Snape – Snape! – to spend a few more minutes with her.

"Once more I thank you, but I hardly think my reunion with Mr. Potter would make for a very merry Christmas."

"Harry's not going to be there." she answered quietly. One more thing to surprise him, although nothing could surprise him as much as her seeming to genuinely want his company.

"In that case, I would love to."

---

At least this was to be expected, Severus reflected while he sat on her sofa, her house was the epitome of Christmas. He couldn't help but wonder what had happened to his former student – had she had a falling out with her friends? – but he wasn't one to ask questions. Which was exactly what Hermione was thinking of, and feeling grateful for, as the kettle boiled on her stove.

When she sat next to him with their tea she still had the same bleak look on her face but, at the first mention of an experimental potion, she became immediately recognisable as the Gryffindor know-it-all he had endured for seven years. Only now that she was no longer his student he was more comfortable admitting to himself that her unquenchable thirst for knowledge stimulated his own mind. Soon they were immersed in a discussion on the possibly addictive properties of the Wolfsbane potion and, before he realised it, it was half past nine. He would never be able to find a room now, and yet he couldn't bring himself to regret the time spent in their early evening conversation. He could no longer remember when he had last had a conversation that was only what it seemed – no ill-concealed pity or veiled threats, merely two adults talking. Whatever the reason her friends weren't showing up they were fools, the both of them. Not that that came as any sort of surprise. He got up regretfully as the clock chimed ten.

"Thank you very much, Miss Granger, for a most enjoyable evening. I wish you once more a very merry Christmas, I shall be going along now."

In all the years that were to come, Hermione would never know what started her talking. Maybe it was the fact that she knew he was going to Hogwarts and was pretty sure Christmas there held no special meaning for him. Maybe it was because, while she couldn't stand the forced cheerfulness on other people's voices while they were around her, the thought of spending Christmas alone filled her with emptiness – a funny concept, to be filled with emptiness. Or maybe it was because she knew she could always trust Severus Snape to be Severus Snape, a constant despite the swirling world around her. Whatever the reason, she just spoke.

"Are you sure you wouldn't care to stay, professor?" She felt the need to justify herself. "It's just that I cooked all this food, and now I realise I cooked way too much for just one, and I was figuring maybe you'd help me eat it..." She fell silent, feeling suddenly ridiculous.

Severus felt shaken by her words. She would be spending Christmas alone? He had assumed she had had a falling out with her friends, not that even her parents wouldn't be showing up. It seemed so wrong for her to be alone on that holiday... as if she were turning to himself and no one was even noticing it. He looked her in the eye, gazed, searched... and then said, as something of a silent understanding flashed between them.

"Well, we mustn't let all that food go to waste then. Although I warn you, Miss Granger, I will make you try out anything before I eat it, lest you be trying to poison me."

Hermione smiled as a mixture of gratitude and relief over flooded her.

"Professor, you've got yourself a deal."

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Author's Note: This will be a short story, with only a couple more chapters left, possibly an epilogue. Please let me know what you think. Review!