AN:/ Hello! I'm here with a short and fluffy story for Snarry and a tiny bit of Hermione & Lucius! I'm a fan of many pairings within the Harry Potter universe, and this one is a newly found favourite so I thought I could share with you a 12 chapter Christmas story that has a happy ending.

Harry's inner monologue will be written in italics—it can be quick to change between third person and his first person inner narrative so I've done my best to make it obvious for you! This story is rated 'M' for a reason, definite SLASH, so if you don't like it...well I'm not sure why you are reading it :D

I'll be leaving a Christmas song recommendation for each chapter to help get you all in the festive mood!

Enjoy!

Song: Coldplay - Christmas Lights.

~ Chapter One ~

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The Second Wizarding War Anniversary Ball.

2nd May 2002.

A sense of dread washed over Harry as people flocked around him. His eyes steadily moved from one person to the next as he tried to keep up with all their questions. He'd lost Hermione by the Entrance Hall, and there was no way he could walk away from all these people to rejoin her.

Harry had no want to be here. There was nothing good about going to an event with people who could kill him. He still didn't trust the Malfoys, nor the children of Death Eaters, he'd been attacked over a dozen times by people wanting revenge after the war.

I don't see why we need to have a party. We should honour those that we lost but the reunion always brings unwanted press, and it isn't an honourable thing when the papers only care about who arrived with who, and what outfit they wore.

A wandering hand slid down Harry's back, and he yelped in surprise when an older lady's hand squeezed his arse.

"Do you mind-"

"Harry Potter!" Professor McGonagall's voice made Harry relax, and the hand soon disappeared from his body. "How lovely to see you," She pushed her way through the crowd with narrowed eyes which caused everyone to disperse.

In truth, Harry had seen McGonagall last Tuesday—just like he did every other week—but he knew she was saying it so they'd leave him alone.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come, let's get a drink."

Harry took her arm and walked with her over to a long table that rested against the wall. There were many people in the Great Hall tonight, most of them hadn't been apart of the Seconding Wizarding War, but that didn't seem to matter to anyone.

"I thought Hermione was accompanying you this evening?" She asked then handed him a glass of wine.

"She got caught up in the rabble-" Harry paused when he spotted a dishevelled Hermione stagger into the Great Hall. Her once pristine hair fell messy around her face, and her lovely lavender coloured dress looked to be torn and dirtied. However, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster up, she held her head up high and strolled over to them.

"Hermione, I'm sorry about all that," He said, and McGonagall started to wave her wand about to fix Hermione's disarrayed state.

"Do not worry about it," She replied. "I knew they'd do something like that; I admit the trampling part caught me off guard, but at least they didn't question you about us arriving together."

She was right. Harry could already picture the preposterous headlines they would conjure up. They'd both been hounded after the war and faced many questions concerning their relationship; apparently, just being friends wasn't a good enough answer for them.

Hermione and Ron had tried a relationship, but they'd gone their separate ways soon after the war. Ron wrote to Harry, and he occasionally sent a letter to Hermione—things were still awkward between them—he was busy travelling the world and playing Quidditch, so they didn't see a lot of him.

He won't be here tonight.

Harry understood why he didn't wish to come to the anniversary. The Weasleys had not recovered well from Fred's death, and none of them would be coming this evening.

That's why Hermione and I decided to come together. Neither had anyone special in their lives, so they chose to join forces to get through the night together. It seemed that Hermione got the worse end of the deal though.

"Here, drink this," Harry gave her some red wine, and he chuckled when she chugged the liquid down. "Maybe you should take it easy."

"Guess who helped me up after the stampede squished me to the ground?"

"Who?"

"Lucius Malfoy," McGonagall stopped fussing over Hermione and narrowed her eyes.

"What did he say to you?"

"He helped me up and asked if I was all right, then I muttered a thank you and left," She explained with a sigh. "I'm very embarrassed."

"He didn't say anything else to you?" McGonagall asked, and Hermione shook her head. "Good. Be careful around him; I'm yet to work out what his intentions are now that he's out of Azkaban. Right, I best move along now," She quickly left to socialise with others.

"What do you think he wanted?" Harry asked then took a sip of his drink.

"I'm pretty sure he was just helping a flustered woman up off the floor, don't overthink it," She gave his arm a light tap then poured herself another drink. "Do you mind if I leave you for awhile, some of my work colleagues are here so I should go and say hello."

Harry nodded his head and watched her go. Hermione had started her own charity which helped Muggleborn witches and wizards learn more about the world they were entering. She held educational lessons and taught them about the lengthy history that Hogwarts: A History couldn't. She received a lot of support from people, and she had enough donations to support her own employees who travelled around the country and provided lessons to Purebloods about Muggle life. The interest had spiked after the war, and it was shocking how many wished to get the guilt off their shoulders for all the prejudice and discrimination they'd committed.

On the other hand, Harry had enough money to support himself for many years to come. He felt like he deserved a break, so he was taking a long holiday. Grimmauld Place was his sanctuary, and Harry spent most of his time collecting magical artefacts—it's my new hobby. Hermione joked that he should start wearing a monocle and boring people to death with facts about his expensive toys. They aren't toys-

Harry felt eyes on him. A blistering set that plastered his skin and caused his hair to stand on end. He kept the wine glass at his lips and carefully scanned the Great Hall. The presence wasn't evil, just unsettling.

The fast melody that came from the nearby piano heightened his sense of anticipation. He felt odd, and he wasn't sure why; all he understood was that someone who held considerable power wished to burn a hole in him.

He saw a flash of blond hair by the door and in walked the Malfoys. Draco trailed behind his father while Lucius held his head up high and looked at everyone with caution in his eyes. Harry watched them walk through the tight crowd until they stopped by one of the few tables—Harry locked eyes with the man who had been trying to burn him alive with his eyes.

Professor Snape.

Harry swallowed hard, then looked away. He finished off his drink and ignored the slight tremor that rocked his body.

Somehow Snape had survived that night in the Shrieking Shack and lived not to tell the tale of how he survived. He refused interviews with everyone and chose to hide himself away at Spinner's End. Harry had tried to communicate with him right after the war, but every letter came back, so he finally got the message and stopped trying. Hermione told him that Snape must've anticipated such an attack from Voldemort, and went into the altercation prepared.

Hermione had provided a lot of insight into his outlook on Snape. To begin with, Harry assumed that Snape was still in love with his mother and he had become trapped within the holds of unrequited love. However, Hermione kindly pointed out that Snape fell deeply in love while being young which meant it was insubstantial, but after Voldemort killed his parents he had to deal with the bitter tears of guilt.

She thinks that Snape loves my mum as a friend since she was the only person to show him kindness when he was young. Harry understood, but it didn't lessen the fact that he was a git. I think Snape wants to kill me. He could still feel his burning eyes on the back of his head. I need to get out of here for a while.

Harry placed his wine glass on the table then hurried out of the Great Hall, still sensing Snape's eyes on him. He raced down the corridor and slipped into a narrow passageway hidden behind a piece of tapestry.

I want this night to be over. He leant against the wall and let his head rest against the cold stone. He sighed dramatically then pushed his glasses up his nose.

He didn't know why he'd reacted like that, but he chose to ignore his pounding heart and focused on hating Snape. It was in his nature to unsettle his victims and make them feel unwanted—that's what it felt like, being unwanted, he wanted Harry out of his sight.

Harry hid in the passageway for around ten minutes before he heard Hermione's angry voice along with Lucius Malfoy's. Lucius? Harry stood up straight and stared at the tapestry that covered the entrance.

"I don't need your help! I'm capable of finding Harry on my own," She huffed and her heels clanked against the floor as she stormed past the purple tapestry.

"Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a woman wander around this late at night?" Lucius' retort was smug.

"It's highly amusing that you think people view you as a gentleman," Hermione's reply came from further away, and Harry could hear them bickering as they disappeared down the next corridor. Maybe I should come to her rescue?

"She'll send out the cavalry if you don't come out of your little hiding place," The baritone voice came from behind him. Harry turned around to see Professor Snape standing at the corner of the passageway. His throat felt tight, and he staggered away from the wall to stare at him.

"O-Oh," He stammered. "I'll go and find her-"

"Why are you hiding Potter?" He asked suddenly with a tilt of his head.

"I'm just taking a break from all those people," Harry fixed his eyes on the floor and kept his head bowed slightly. "It gets too much sometimes."

"Poor Potter," He hissed sarcastically. That tone had been quick to anger him in the past, and it still worked now. Harry's eyes flew to his, and he tightened his hands into fists.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He growled, and Snape's face lightened at the sight of his angry face.

"These people are all here to catch a glimpse of you—and you love the attention."

"And when have I ever said that?" He retorted. "I hate it."

Snape looked down his hooked nose as he approached Harry cautiously. "You've always been a fame-hungry boy."

"I'm not a boy anymore."

Snape snarled and recoiled as if Harry had struck him. "Don't be a fool, everyone in that room sees you as the little boy who saved the world."

"You believe what you want to believe, but I know that's not true," Harry said. "I'll have you know I get many marriage requests from beautiful women older than me, and I doubt they jump at the chance to shag a little boy."

WHY THE HELL DID I SAY THAT?! Harry screamed internally. Oh Merlin, what's wrong with me? I just said that to Professor Snape...oh bugger-

A malicious smirk grew on Snape's face taking Harry by surprise. He stared at the curve of his thin lips then allowed his eyes to roam over the face of his old teacher. Well, I suppose he isn't that old by wizarding standards...OK, what the hell is wrong with me?

"Are you bragging Potter?"

"N-No!" Harry exclaimed. "I was only stating that I'm not a little boy."

"If you receive so many marriage requests then why aren't you married?" Snape asked, and he started to stalk closer.

"Because I don't know them," He replied, and Snape laughed.

"And you only want to marry for love? Am I right?"

"I no longer feel like being mocked," Harry grumbled then turned on his heel to leave.

"Have you always been such a coward?"

Harry whirled back around and raced over to him with his wand raised. "I'm not a coward!"

The tip of his wand touched Snape's clad chest, and the satisfied glint shone in his eyes. He'd been fishing for a reaction and Harry had given it to him.

"Short-tempered as always," He whispered.

"What can I say, sir, you bring out the best in me," Harry meant it as an insult, but his words sounded soft. He lowered his wand when he became aware of their closeness.

A tightness wrapped around his heart and his eye's fluttered up to his dark ones. There was a confused look on the lines of his face, and Harry felt the strange urge to touch his skin so he could know what it felt like beneath his fingertips.

For the second time this evening Harry questioned whether there was something wrong with him. This is Snape. Just Snape.

A smug look grew on the git's face. He didn't understand why they were arguing, as far as Harry was concerned, they would both be ignoring one another for the rest of their lives. His chest rose rapidly as anger flood through his veins. All I need to do is forgo my wand and punch that smug look off his face.

Maybe I feel this way because I haven't come to terms with everything that happened? This would be the first time Harry had seen him since the war, so he hadn't had the chance to face him out in the open. That's all this is.

"Goodbye-"

Snape's lips crashed into his in a rough kiss, and Harry's back collided with the stone wall. He inhaled sharply then focused on the mouth that was consuming his own. Any rational person would be pushing him away and asking 'why the hell are you kissing me, you hate me?!', apparently, Harry wasn't normal.

He returned the fierce kiss willingly and hated that his snarky professor was winning the dominance. Snape's tongue slid into his mouth, and a profound whine came from his throat, but the noise wasn't enough to pull Harry away from him.

The tightness around his heart worsened, and he felt like he could explode any minute. No sane words filled his mind to tell him how wrong this was, so he proceeded to lose himself in the feel of being pressed into the wall by his professor.

Hands tugged at his hair, and a hardness dug into his own. Harry wasn't sure he enjoyed being ravished in such a way; having Snape pinning him to the wall was both frightening and alluring. They kissed urgently as if it would seise their standoffish emotions towards one another, but it only increased them.

What the bloody hell am I doing?!

Harry started to regain his genuine voice and quickly slammed his hands against Snape's chest and pushed him hard. He stumbled back slightly leaving them both panting for oxygen. He opened his mouth to shout at him, but Snape quickly stormed out of the passageway without looking back.

Harry slid down the wall and landed on the floor with an unwarranted erection and confused mind.

Malfoy Manor.

Halloween (Masquerade) Ball.

31st October 2002.

"Why are we here?" Harry asked as he reached up to adjust the black mask on his face, Hermione stood next to him wearing a silver one, while looking at the manor suspiciously.

"I gave him the idea, so it's polite to turn up to the event," She said.

"And why did you tell Lucius Malfoy that he should host a masquerade ball?" A house-elf greeted them at the door and took their coats from them.

"I ran into him while shopping at Diagon Alley and I couldn't help myself when he said that he didn't want a traditional ball for Halloween," She explained, and they walked inside following behind the other guests.

"Since when are you and Lucius friends?"

"Why so many questions?" Hermione silenced him with a look, and Harry grumbled to himself.

The insufferable woman had forced him into a suit and mask because she didn't wish to go alone to the ball. Harry didn't want to be here because the Malfoys knew too many bad people which meant trouble for him. Also, Snape will more than likely be here.

Harry shook his head.

He'd done his best to try to forget that night in May. Nothing good could come over dwelling on the stupid mistake, and he'll take the memory of their nighttime snog fest to his grave.

There were times when he wished to tell Hermione, but he chickened out at the last minute. Would she even believe me? I can't believe that it happened, Snape kissed me—he initiated it. That's what bothered Harry the most; the idea that Snape could even kiss a person blew his mind, but that was down to his immature perception of him.

He's no longer my Professor anymore nor hopelessly devoted to my mother.

Yet he still kissed me even though he once thought about kissing my mother—Oh sweet Merlin! The twisted thought made a sour look consume Harry's face, and he glanced around frantically. Please don't be here.

They walked into the ballroom and were surprised to see an array of Halloween decorations. Harry had expected a formal interior, but it seemed that Lucius had taken the idea from Muggle decorations. I wonder if he's taking Muggle lessons from Hermione's charity?

"Hermione-"

"Grace, how lovely to see you!" Hermione fled his side to hug her friend, and he crossed his arms over his chest. Bloody great.

Harry headed over to the table which contained Halloween themed treats. He thought that people would come around serving the drinks and small foods, but it seemed that Lucius had toned the Pureblood part of himself down.

He must be up to something.

Initially, Harry had planned to spend his evening in front of the fire reading an insightful book about some artefacts from a hundred years ago. But Hermione soon came along and ruined it. Also, he needed to reply to Ron's letter—he's getting married.

Harry didn't know whether to tell Hermione yet; he wasn't sure if it would bother her at all. She still loved Ron, but it wasn't in a romantic way. Things had changed over time, and it seemed she had been right when she said young love was unsustainable when referring to Snape.

"Hello, Harry Potter," A hand touched his back, and he turned to see a small woman beaming up at him. "That mask doesn't conceal your identity well," Her hand ventured further down, and he blushed bright red when she gave his arse a light tap.

"No thank you, I'm good, have a pleasant evening!" Harry's voice was shrill as he moved away from the touchy woman and fled the ballroom. He tapped his flaming cheeks and muttered inaudible words to himself.

The older women tended to be more touchy-feely, and it made him flush in embarrassment. I thought this mask was meant to help hide me; it had been one of Hermione's selling points when persuading him to come this evening.

Harry rounded the corner and collided with a hard chest. He staggered back with a yelp then ineloquently regained his footing.

"It appears you're without your glasses, Potter."

Harry stared up at the maskless face of Professor Snape. He's not a professor anymore!

"I'm sorry," He mumbled. "Bye," Harry stepped around him ignoring the familiar tightness that wrapped around his heart. He had no idea where he was going; he just needed to get away from Snape.

Those burning eyes zoned in on him again causing a shiver to shoot up Harry's spine. His feet came to a halt, and he slowly turned back around to look at him.

"Why did you do it?" He asked.

"I have no idea what you're referring to?" Snape's drawl caused something to stir deep in his stomach.

"I never thought you were the type to play dumb," Harry wondered where this burst of confidence was coming from, I need to shut up.

"You don't know me at all."

Harry opened his mouth to reply but slammed his lips shut when he realised what he'd been about to say 'Can't we change that'—Merlin that would've been a terrible thing to say.

"You're right, I don't know you," He settled on saying. "That doesn't justify why you kissed me though."

There. He'd said those words to him, and the steel look on Snape's face satisfied him a little. His dark Professor started to walk forwards, and Harry defiantly held his head up high to show him that he wouldn't be intimidated.

"It would be in your best interest to not come any closer," Harry said. "We both know who would win a duel."

"I'm assuming by that statement you think it would be you?" Snape's voice was calm. That's a bad sign. "Don't flatter yourself, Potter, it isn't an attractive quality."

"Is that what you're looking for? Attractive qualities that I have?" Harry smirked. For once he was winning, he never won when they spoke, and all he wanted to do was run off and celebrate his victory.

"Why did you kiss me back?"

Oh crap.

Harry didn't have an answer for that. His smile disappeared and moved onto Snape's smug face. He stepped closer and stopped when he came to the perfect spot to look down at him.

"Er...well you...it doesn't matter!" He exclaimed, and he kept his eyes glued to Snape's chest. I can't look at him.

"Harry Potter!" The girlish squeal made him jump, and he whirled around to face the beaming face of a young woman. "I cannot believe it's you! I'm a huge fan!" She leapt towards him and clung to his arm. "Who are you here with? Can I accompany you? Who's this—Oh, it doesn't matter! I can't believe you're here!"

"I-It's nice to meet you," Harry stammered, and Snape scoffed behind him.

"Thank you!" She squeaked, and her hand started to stroke his arm. "Would you accompany me into the ballroom-"

"Isn't your husband nearby Mrs Enderfield?" Snape said, and the smallest of smiles graced Harry's lips. There was some use of him being a snarky bastard.

"I wouldn't want to keep you from your husband; it was very nice to see you," Harry carefully brushed off her hand, and the woman stormed off in a huff. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, Potter," Harry turned to glare at him. Why does he have to turn his nose up at everything?

"Fine, I take it back."

"How immature of you."

"I think you'll find you're the one being immature, sir. All you had to do was accept my thanks-"

"I don't want your thanks," He hissed.

"Then what do you want?" Harry's tone was almost airy, and his eyes widened at the implication. Did I just give him a free invitation to tell me his wishes?

This wasn't like him. Yes, he was known for not thinking things over before he spoke, but it seemed Snape made his flaw ten times worse.

"Are you sure you want the answer to that?" He closed the distance between them, so Harry had to tilt his head back slightly to look into his enchanting eyes.

He has nice eyes.

"I...why do you have to be such an arse-" Harry expected this kiss. He stumbled back a little when strong arms enveloped him. A door flew open nearby, and he was kissed passionately into the dark room until his back came up against the closed door.

Harry decided to test the waters, and he gripped on tight to Snape's side to urge him closer. Fewer teeth were clashing this time around, and Harry was grateful for that. His lips had been left throbbing after their last exchange.

Snape's lips moved along his jawline and down his neck, sucking and flicking his tongue against the tight skin there. Harry gasped into the darkness and felt the familiar warmth flood his stomach.

Ever so slowly, hands pulled his shirt from his trousers, and he felt Snape's long fingers slide underneath to touch his abdomen. Harry inhaled sharply then reached his hands into Snape's hair and pulled his lips back to his.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice slowly began to register into Harry's hazy mind. "Harry?"

The pair separated, and Snape kept his face close. Harry tried to move away but the substantial body pinning him to the door made the task quite tricky; he gave him his best angry look in the darkness, yet he found himself lost in the feel of Snape's lips so close to his skin.

"Bye," He whispered by Snape's ear then gave him a nudge with his shoulder. He took a step back, and Harry quickly fled the room and rejoined Hermione. She commented on his dishevelled state but soon mothered him back into a formal appearance.