Disclaimer: Whatever is new to you is mine. All else is property of J.K. Rowling.
A/N: A Christmas story in August? I assure you I'm just as stumped as you are, but this was one of those plot bunnies that just won't go away.
Severus Snape hated Christmas.
To him, it was all about the presents, which was not uncommon. But while others thought only of what gifts they would receive, he thought only of the arduous, painful task of buying gifts for his colleagues. If you asked him, whoever thought it was better to give than to receive was mad.
Of course, it didn't help that there was now an extra Gryffindor on staff to shop for. No doubt all the Gryffindors would send him lurid, red and gold lion-adorned items. Dumbledore had re-hired Lupin years ago (but he now had the position of History of Magic teacher - Binns had finally retired), and this year he had made the disagreeable addition of Hermione Granger, who had been apprenticing the Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt in preparation for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. She had attempted to befriend him, but she soon found that it took much more than fifty tries at friendly conversation to be accepted into the prestigious circle of Severus Snape's Friends.
His mother sent him thirteen packages two weeks before Christmas, in order that he might have a present for each of the thirteen days of Christmas. She was a stickler for tradition. Unbeknownst to her, however, he tore them all open the day he received them.
"Potion ingredients . . . books . . . potion-making instruments . . ." he muttered under his breath as he opened each box.
The last parcel must have been the family heirloom Mrs. Snape had seen fit to pass on to him this year. It was another tradition with her to give him a "family treasure" each Christmas. In Severus's opinion, the House of Snape had no treasures.
Behind the rustle of tissue paper, he was unpleasantly surprised to discover a sumptuous mink cloak with an exquisite platinum clasp. His displeasure was not due to the quality of the cloak – it was not a cheap imitation or a tasteless, gaudy garment that screamed, "Look how much I spent on this!"
It was a glorious color – almost pure black. But he knew better, and he held it to the light, where he could detect the subtlest, loveliest hint of blue. Deep, rich blue it was, like cobalt. He stroked the thick fur slowly, and marveled at the quality. A cloak like this must have cost at least a thousand Galleons, and he scowled.
He'd forgotten about this. As a small boy, he'd seen his mother wear it on special occasions, and she'd looked ravishing. But he'd heard all too often the story of how his father had courted his mother, finishing with the gift of the cloak and a proposal.
Severus hated his father, and consequently, he hated the cloak. He could not for the life of him see why his mother would give this to him as she had suffered just as much (if not more) at his father's hands as he had.
He decided to simply discard it. He rang a bell near his fireplace, and a house-elf promptly appeared in front of him. Taking in the house-elf's ghastly apparel, he recognized it to be the very strange one known as Dobby. He narrowed his eyes at the beaming elf, who was wearing a tricorn adorned with blinking lights, a traffic cone-colored sweater, blue shorts, and mismatched socks depicting the fall of the Roman empire and the life cycle of a frog.
"Take this," he commanded, thrusting the mink cloak towards Dobby. "Toss it in the lake, burn it, feed it to Hagrid's wild beasts – I don't care. Just get it out of my sight!"
Dobby's eyes widened at the sight of the cloak. Idiot though he may be, Severus thought, even he can recognize the worth of this cloak.
"Professor Snape is wanting Dobby to - to take his cloak and get rid of it?" Dobby stammered, staring in disbelief.
"Yes, you imbecile!" Severus snapped, motioning Dobby to come forward and take it.
"Professor Snape is sure?"
Severus was ready to strangle the elf in exasperation. "Very well, if you're so reluctant to dispose of it, keep it for yourself! Consider it an early Christmas present."
"Professor Snape is too generous!" Dobby shrilled, clutching the cloak to him and caressing it ecstatically. "Thank you, thank you, sir!"
"Now get out," Severus ordered irritably. He picked up the box the cloak had come in and held it out to Dobby as well. "You can take the box as well."
Glowing radiantly, Dobby awkwardly took the box as he held the cloak too. "Dobby will always be grateful, sir!" he called, as he disappeared with a loud crack.
Severus snorted, and wondered idly what the elf could possibly do with the cloak – probably going to cut it up and make clashing socks out of it. Now that his mother had sent him his presents, he supposed he ought to start buying them as well. It being a Sunday morning, it was relatively easy for him to leave Hogwarts and spend a whole day at Hogsmeade if necessary.
Once there, he bought items as quickly as he could without making tasteless decisions. Of course his colleagues would all give him similarly perfunctory gifts.
Christmas came and went, and Severus got rather more generous gifts than he'd predicted. As far as he was concerned, he had no friends (which, as we all know, was somewhat inaccurate). Severus knew the Headmaster claimed to be his friend, but would you believe that of someone who rewarded you with coupons for a health spa for hard work? Certainly not.
The first Quidditch match of the new year was in mid-January, and it was Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. Much to Severus's delight, his House won, though by a small margin.
At the end of the match, he contrived to get in such a position that he would be able to see McGonagall and Hermione's consternation at a good angle. There was something oddly familiar about Hermione's cloak . . .
As she brushed snow off the hem, a blue-black glint caught his eye, and he knew. Completely disregarding the fact that he'd given Dobby carte blanche with the cloak, he determined to storm up to her and demand it back.
Severus strode up to her, when a voice in his head suddenly said, "She looks like a queen."
And it was true. There was a certain lilt in her walk now, a certain way that she wore the cloak; it lent something beautiful to her carriage. It seemed there was even a lovely new light in her face.
He approached her and - he smiled.
"Allow me to compliment you on your exquisite cloak, Professor Granger."
She returned his smile and said, "Thank you, Professor Snape."
Somehow he thought she was thanking him for something more than his words.
And he was just fine with that.