AN: I hope to have this finished before Christmas and welcome all feedback.

Chapter 1: Thursday morning

Severus Snape had heard her excited squeal before he had even opened the door into the teacher's lounge but his foul mood was aggravated when he saw her standing in front of the fireplace, clapping her hands like she was a damn seal.

"Isn't it gorgeous, Minerva?" she cooed at the 9 foot pine tree in the centre of the room. Oh bloody hell.

"I went to pick it out with Hagrid yesterday."

He rolled his eyes at her embodiment of a hyperactive toddler, with her ridiculous bouncing up and down and closed the door with an irritated slam. The two prattling women flinched at the harsh interruption of their conversation and fell silent when they recognised him. All other heads in the room were turned towards him as well. They were staring, everyone always stared unless they cowered. He knew which he preferred.

"Morning," he grumbled under his breath to no one in particular and strode to his usual spot, the impressive armchair in the back corner. Chattering resumed as he picked the latest copy of The Practical Potioneer out of his pocket and sank down in the black leather. He pretended not to catch snippets of the conversations going on.

"...in a right mood..."

"...wonder what got his knickers in a twist?"

"Git."

He wondered when his colleagues would expand their vocabulary as he turned his attention to the publication in his hands, but reconsidered and looked up again when he heard her excited pitch.

"It does need to air for a day or so, so it can relax and be happy with its spot in the room, before I decorate it."

"Relax, Miss Granger?"

"Hermione."

"Miss Granger, that tree was well and truly dead the moment you had its roots chopped off. It has very little relaxing or being happy left in it. Why you continue to spew such nonsensical personifications is beyond me. Perhaps you have spent too much time with Mr. Longbottom."

"Shut up, Severus."

"That's professor Snape to you."

"Yes, dear."

She turned around and implored McGonagall to smell the tree. He snorted. She ignored him.