On Christmas morning, Severus’ original plan was to march to the beat his normal, everyday routine. Those plans did not include, however, a very twinkling headmaster coming down to the dungeons with a knock on Snape’s door, accompanied with a particularly loud,

“Severus, don’t be a scrooge. Come join us in the Hall”-there was a pause as a quite murderous-looking Potions Master swung open the door –“ It is Christmas, after all,” finished Albus, twinkling madly.

“Headmaster, you know very well I refuse to participate in such inane activities. Now, would you kindly leave me in peace so that I may attempt to get through this glorious day faster than I dare hope,” Snape snapped, his hand still placed firmly on the door. But the headmaster refused to decamp. The twinkling in his bright blue eyes suddenly turned considerably conspiratorial.

“You know Lily would not approve of you sitting all alone and wasting away in the dungeons on Christmas,” Albus stated benevolently. Severus gritted his teeth, almost to the point at which he thought they would crack, and fixed his signature sneer on his pale face.

True, the old coot used this tactic on this same headache-inducing day every year, but it was because he knew Severus couldn’t refuse the likes of it. “Very well, Albus,” the younger wizard conceded. “But I will only come for the feast- none of your silly gift exchanges or having my eardrums burst from the sounds of dunderheaded children and equally dunderheaded staff pitifully attempting to sing Christmas carols,” the last bit coming out as a sneer.

The headmaster’ eyes went back to their normal twinkling, if not a bit more brightly than before. “Wonderful, my boy. You’ve made a wise decision,” Albus chirped sagely, patting Snape’s shoulder, while the Potions Master stepped out and walked purposefully ahead, since he had in fact been coerced into this delightful form of torture by the insufferable coot. To add to it all, said coot seemed to be walking with a definite spring in his step.

oooooooooo

Harry sluggishly made his way from Gryffindor tower to the Great Hall. Without his friends at the castle with him, Harry didn’t feel there was much need to celebrate the season. But the headmaster had insisted that he at least come to the feat, however. (Via Hedwig, while the boy was opening his small pile of presents that morning). So, it was with hunched shoulders and shuffling feet that Harry entered the Great Hall. Seeing as how all the parents had wanted their children safely at home during the holidays this year, and Harry was the only student in the castle, there was only one table in the large Hall, set even then for very few.

Harry was a bit late, so he hurriedly scooted into a seat between Professors McGonagall and Flitwick. “Good morning, Mr. Potter,” said Professor McGonagall genially. “I trust you’ve had a pleasant Christmas morning so far?” Harry nodded politely. “Yes, professor. Ron and Hermione sent some brilliant gifts. Hagrid even made me a little wooden dragon; it’s wicked!” Harry shot a quick smile down the table to a blushing Hagrid. Harry turned back to his transfiguration teacher, who was giving him a warm smile. “And Mrs. Weasley sent me a new homemade jumper with a tin of fudge,” Harry finished. He then turned his head at the sound of a loud snort.

“Not even gracious enough for the unquestionable mountain of gifts from your doting aunt and uncle to even mention them? Or were there so many that you simply could not have time to tell us about them all?” Snape sneered, causing Harry’s face to burn in shame. Minerva instantly put a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder, along with a glare and sharp, “Severus!” aimed at the brooding Potions Master.

Harry studied the design on his place intensely, tears blurring his vision. Why did Snape have to be so hateful? But then again, under no circumstances was Harry about to tell him that he had never received once single present from the Dursleys. Not unless you’d count a tissue, which Harry didn’t. He tried to inconspicuously wipe his suddenly runny nose on his sleeve. McGonagall seemed to notice, though, and gave his shoulder another little squeeze.

Thankfully, before things could get any worse, the headmaster clinked his fork against his goblet, and signaled the start of the feast. “ Here is to hoping that all of your Christmases will be merry and bright. Have a wonderful day, and try not to drink too much eggnog-“ this earned an eye roll from Snape-“that being said, let the feast begin!” Dumbledore finished, and food began appearing in mounds on the table. Despite setbacks caused by lack of friends present and his potions professor’s harsh words, Harry couldn’t help feeling his spirits lift at the sight of all the scrumptious-looking food. He took stock of his options, and dug in.