A Christmas Gamble by Whitetail
Past Featured StorySummary: In the Wizarding World, Father Christmas exists. Of course, not all witches and wizards know this, because only children who would not receive presents otherwise are given a present from the man himself. But when something unexpected comes up Christmas Eve, he’s in the market for two substitute Santas to tag-team his complicated route. Who better to ask than the boy whose name has been on his list almost ten years running, and the man who has forgotten what Christmas once meant for him? Either Father Christmas is crazy to put Harry Potter and Severus Snape on the same team, or he knows something they don’t. One way or another, it’s going to be one heck of a gamble if he wants all the gifts delivered on time. Entrant in 2013 Holiday Fic Fest.
Categories: Fic Fests > #15 Winter Fest 2013, Snape Equal Status to Harry > Comrades Snape and Harry Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required)
Snape Flavour: Snape is Kind
Genres: Action/Adventure
Media Type: None
Tags: None
Takes Place: 1st Year
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: A Christmas Gamble
Chapters: 9 Completed: Yes Word count: 24757 Read: 32651 Published: 10 Jan 2014 Updated: 11 Jan 2014
Of Bells and Bookmarks by Whitetail

It was the last day before the Christmas holidays, and Harry was waiting patiently for his hiccup draught to boil fifteen minutes before bottling it. Professor Snape was stalking from one end of the room to the next and looking particularly foul, causing the more nervous of the first years to shrink in their seats as he swept past. The clock read twenty minutes to the end of the class, the time when the students would at last be free for the Christmas holidays. Most of Harry's classmates were at the stage where they were to let their potions boil, and chatter had broken out despite Snape's glares, the contagious excitement of the holidays causing a breakdown of even Snape's reign.

"Oy, Dean, what do you think you'll get for Christmas?" asked Seamus in a low voice.

"Well, I asked for comic books, so hopefully I'll get some of those," said Dean with a grin. "You?"

"No idea, but I bet it'll be great," Seamus added.

"Ron?" Dean inquired.

"Oh," said Ron, flushing slightly as he prodded the flames on his fire. "My Mum always knits us jumpers … I'll probably get some baking too. I dunno."

"If your Mum cooks half as well as Fred and George go on about her cooking, I'll take some any day," Dean said, to Ron's pleasure.

"I hardly think we should be talking of such frivolous matters when we should be watching our potions," hissed Hermione.

"Aw, come on Hermione," Ron said good naturedly. "What did you ask for this Christmas?"

Hermione took a fervent glance at her potion, which was naturally the perfect colour and consistency. After a moment of hesitation, and a fair bit of encouragement from the others, said that she was hoping to get a set of three books detailing the travels of Newt Scamander, the famed Magizoologist.

Harry and Ron looked at each other and grinned.

"Sounds great, Hermione," Harry told her, earning him a smile.

"And you, Harry?" Seamus asked suddenly. "What do you think your family got you?"

Harry felt his smile slip. He cleared his throat.

"No idea," he said before hastily checking his potion.

He lost the train of conversation for a while as the question continued down the line, coming out of his thoughts only by the laughter of the others.

"Father Christmas isn't real," snorted Seamus to Julia Baxter, another first year Gryffindor. "Come on, Julia, it had to have been your parents."

"No, he is real," insisted the Julia, her brown eyes filling with tears. "He is. He brings me a new book every year! And it's always addressed to me, from Father Christmas w-with l-love!"

"It's your parents," insisted Seamus, turning from her to look at Dean, shaking his head. "Doesn't know it yet."

"Seamus, Julia's right - Father Christmas is real," Harry said. Julia stared, relief evident on her face. The room fell silent, Harry's proclamation catching the ears of every skeptical eleven year old in the room.

"What, you too?" Seamus said, aghast. "Harry, you honestly believe -"

"I know," Harry said, "I know for sure because … because …"

"Touching, Potter," Snape said, swooping down on them, having at last had enough with the talk. "However much I would love to hear the incontrovertible proof you have on the existence of Father Christmas," - Snape sneered, causing the Slytherins to snicker - "all of this inane chatter is not allowed in my classroom. Five points from Gryffindor for talking, and get back to work."

"Hey, Harry wasn't the only one talking!" Ron said angrily. "That's not fair."

"Not fair?" Snape hissed, livid. Then, a crooked grin spread across his face and he added, "Well done Mr. Weasley for pointing that out. You are right. Mr. Potter wasn't the only one talking. Let's see, five from you, five from Granger, five from Finnegan and Thomas, five from Longbottom, and five from Baxter. There, I believe that is fair. Now work!"

Not daring to grumble about it, everyone began to bottle their potion samples.

Harry slapped his down hard on Professor Snape's desk. Malfoy, who was behind him in line, sniggered.

"So, what's Father Christmas going to bring you this year?" he taunted.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said, his face set.

"How can you still believe that garbage?" Malfoy said with a laugh, blocking Harry's way. Harry glanced at Snape, who simply watched.

Seething, Harry replied, "Well, just because you're such a brat that your parents had to pretend their gifts were from Father Christmas doesn't mean I'm wrong!"

Before Malfoy could get a chance to retaliate, Harry had darted around him, making a beeline for the door. As he did so he glanced back to see if Snape was going to stop him to take points away for insulting Malfoy, but to his amazement he didn't. Yet, Harry found the puzzled, thoughtful look on Snape's face to be more bothersome than if he had taken points.

On the way back Harry had to endure all manner of jabs about what he had said, although they were mostly good natured. Hermione looked at Harry in a sad sort of way, like she thought it was sweet he still believed, but that he was sorely mistaken. Harry would have loved to prove it to her, but he didn't feel like revealing the fact that his relatives hated him and would never in a million years give him a gift. He'd brought the most recent gift to Hogwarts even, and it had a note from Father Christmas in it. It was a book, like Julia said she was given every year.

Dean and Seamus prodded fun at Harry. Their comments lacked cruelty though, and were clearly just aimed for fun. Oddly enough, Ron hadn't said a word. It was lunch, and to avoid the others, Harry, Ron and Hermione decided to grab a few sandwiches and go eat them elsewhere.

"Ron, how come you haven't laughed yet?" Harry said thoughtfully as he took a bite of ham and cheese sandwich. "Or at least said I'm wrong."

"Wouldn't be nice, right?" Ron said around a mouthful of chicken and ham.

"Yeah, but you're not this quiet usually," Hermione added.

Ron just shrugged.

"Do you believe in Father Christmas too?" she said, surprised.

Ron flushed.

"You do?" Harry said, excited.

"Well …" Ron added, "I'm not really that sure … I mean, well … never mind."

"Go on Ron," Harry said quietly. "I won't laugh."

Ron was silent a moment, then continued. "You know how my family's really … we haven't got a lot, right?"

"Yeah," Harry said.

"See, when I was five … Mum couldn't afford the wool to make us jumpers even - Dad had been really sick for a while and couldn't go to work. He ran out of sick pay so he had to just take regular old leave without pay, and … Mum and Dad told us that we wouldn't be getting anything from them on Christmas. That we'd just be getting a Christmas dinner, and that was really only thanks to the fact that magic can turn less food into more, so at least we would get to eat, but … I was really upset, and so were they. And I remember wishing that Father Christmas would come, and Ginny crying - we shared a room back then, before we added onto the house when things were going better. And I told her to really believe, because maybe Father Christmas would come after all, right? I wasn't sure if I believed myself, but I hoped, and well …" Ron shook his head. "We woke up and there was this stack of gifts under the tree for all of us kids. Just little stuff, really. A set of action figures for me, a teddy bear for Gin, a book for Percy. And little notes from Father Christmas were tied to each of them."

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said, her eyes full of tears. She rushed forward and hugged him, and Ron shot Harry a bewildered look.

"But that's just it," Ron said when Hermione finally let go. "My parents were shocked. They said that they didn't give them to us, and my Mum was crying because she was so glad. Not even Percy was able to believe it was them. He just said it must have been a kind friend of Mum and Dad's that knew, but I don't know. We never got gifts from Father Christmas like that again, but every year after that Mum and Dad were able to scrounge something up for us, so I guess we didn't need them. I don't know who it could have been, because Dad would never talk about how bad it was, and the only relative we have that actually has any more than us is Auntie Muriel, and she always just sends a big Christmas card addressed to Mum and Dad and the rest, and peanut brittle."

"He is real, Ron," Harry said. "I know it. You aren't wrong."

"And how do you know, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Because …" Harry began, looking to Ron. Ron had spilled his secret, so why not Harry? "Well, my relatives don't like me. They always give Dudley tons of presents, and they never give me one. Well, sometimes they do, but it's always a joke. Once for my birthday Uncle Vernon gave me an old pair of his socks, which were pretty full of holes. He laughed. Anyway, every Christmas morning when I was in bed, supposed to stay out of the way while my relatives opened gifts, something would be there on my shelf that wasn't there in the night. They always had a note too, like Ron's present. It was never anything big - usually something I could hide to keep my cousin from breaking it. Sometimes my relatives would find it later in the year and try to take it away, but it always showed up again the next day in my cupboard. You know, the cupboard in my room, that is." Harry felt his heart jump into his throat. Hermione and Ron didn't seem to look into his statement. "It couldn't have been them. It had to be Father Christmas."

But both looked troubled. Ron's brows were furrowed, and Hermione looked ready to cry. She gave Harry a hug too.

"I have a few of Father Christmas' gifts here, actually," Harry added brightly when she pulled away. "I kept all his notes too. The rest are in the cupboard though. Aw, Hermione, don't cry. It's not that bad."

Ron looked alarmed, and Harry didn't know what to do.

"Harry that's horrible!" she said through tears. "Y-You have to t-tell Dumbledore!"

"Nah, he was the one that put me there in the first place," muttered Harry. "Hagrid said so. It's for my protection, or something."

"But H-Harry …"

"Relax, Hermione," Harry said. "Come on, we should get going if we're going to get our charms books before class."

Harry sped forward, and quickly struck up a conversation about Quidditch with Ron, and the matter was soon put aside. As the days went by, and Christmas holidays grew nearer, Harry was able to avoid the subject, dismissing Hermione's concern and telling her every time that he was better off at the Dursleys', where he was protected. Hagrid had reckoned You Know Who was still out there anyway, and from what Hagrid had said Dumbledore clearly thought that Harry was safer there. So Harry fed them the same garbage he'd been told, and even though he hated the idea, Harry thought there was probably a very good reason for it. He saw no sense in telling the headmaster what life was like at the Dursleys'.

 ***

Christmas Eve seemed to arrive at last, after days of painful waiting. Harry looked forward to Christmas more than he ever had, because for the first time ever he would get a proper Christmas dinner, and get to spend it with his best friend Ron, Hermione having gone home. The day was snowy and cold, the skies a blinding white. The previously planned snowball fight among Harry and the Weasleys was abandoned for warmer pursuits when afternoon showed no improvement. It was well into the evening when the chess tournament was finally at the point where it was almost coming to a close. They had two boards going - Ron's and Percy's set.
Harry was taken out of the running by Ron, naturally, and sat watching Percy and George battle it out to see who would play him for the winner (Fred had been trounced by George previously). George appeared to have the upper hand at the moment, but Percy relayed his directions to the pieces, leaving more than one of George's men smashed on the board.

"Eat dirt, Perc," George muttered, scowling.

"How intelligent," Percy replied in a bored tone.

"Just because you read more books," George said absentmindedly, "and I come up with complicated schemes that raise the moral of the school …"

"With Fred's help - so you only have half a brain then," Percy pointed out.

"Really -" began George, glancing at Fred with a grin.

"-that," Fred added.

" -is,"

"- completely,"

"- not,"

" -true."

"Point made," Percy muttered, resulting in laughter from the rest. Harry snorted into his hot chocolate, almost spilling it.

"Speaking of half a brain," Ron piped up jokingly, "Oy, Harry, you were going to lend me Quidditch Through the Ages, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry said with a laugh, shooting a look at Ron. Half a brain indeed, he thought as he tried to recall where he put it.

"What's up, did you lose it?"

"Er yeah, I think … I think I left it in the Great Hall at dinner," Harry said, cringing and hoping it was still there. It was a copy that he had bought through the mail, knowing he'd want to read it more than once and having found out from the older students that it was a very popular book and was always on loan. He hoped nobody had stolen it. "I'll be back soon."

"You'd better be!" Ron said with a grin, "you'll want to see the stupid look on Percy's face when I beat him."

"Who says I'm going to lose?" Percy and George said at the exact same time, as Percy's pieces decimated the last of George's.

Fred snorted with laughter, which earned him a flying peppermint smack dab on the forehead courtesy of George.

"Thanks, you prat," muttered Fred as everyone burst out into laughter.

"Be back soon," Harry called to them before getting up and heading for the portrait hole.

The chatter of the common room faded away as Harry left. He walked through the castle quietly, enjoying the silence of the empty corridors. It seemed that the students were spending the chilly evening in their common rooms. Harry pulled his arms in to his chest, the old jumper of Dudley's doing little to keep out the draught of the corridors as he made his way toward the Great Hall. The faint sound of Christmas music was drifting down through the castle, and Harry suspected it was coming from the staff room, which as he recalled wasn't too far away. Fred and George had debated pulling a few good pranks while the staff had their Christmas party, but decided against it, reasoning that if they refrained, McGonagall and the others would be in a better mood and less quick to punish later in the holiday if things got a little rowdy.

The Great Hall doors were open, the twelve Christmas trees reaching for the snowy ceiling up above. The candles hovering over top the tables were not lit, but the ones in the branches of the trees were, and they cast a warm, flickering glow on the hall, the tables sparkling beneath them. With a sigh of relief Harry spotted his book on the Gryffindor table. His footsteps echoed in the empty hall, and he picked up his book, putting it under his arm.

Before he turned around to leave the hall, however, he noticed that something had been slipped between the pages. Harry looked around for a second, then sunk down onto the bench and opened the book. Sitting between the pages was a bookmark of sorts, made from a shining gold metal. A crest was pressed into it. It was the head of a reindeer, and all around the bookmark edges the shapes of holly leaves were arranged, with sprays of berries. Two thin pieces of ribbon extended from the top, one silver and the other of a deep crimson.

Harry smiled down at it, wondering who had put it there, and picked it up to examine it further. As he did so he felt a sudden jerk somewhere just behind his navel, and then the hall flickered and died, wind rushing around him as he sped away from Hogwarts.

***

Severus Snape really wasn't one for parties. This year's Christmas party was no different. The staff members were loosening up a little, or as much as they could in a school. Even Minerva had had a cup or two of punch (Pomona's recipe was legendary among the staff, or at least those who liked punch, unlike Severus).

"Lighten up, Severus," Dumbledore said, coming over to stand by the fire, where Severus was sitting in an armchair. "Come join us for a game of cards."

"Not in the mood," muttered Severus, staring into the flames.

"You might have some fun," replied Dumbledore.

Severus just shrugged.

"Alright, then," Dumbledore said, patting Severus on the shoulder before leaving him be. "Next round maybe."

It was too loud, and the Christmas music from the wireless was getting on Severus' nerves. He wasn't in the mood for cheer, not when he felt so dull. Pushing away yet another colleague trying to hand him a bowl of pretzels or put a hat from a Christmas cracker on his head, Severus got up and sidled out of the staff room. His chest felt tight again, like it did sometimes when he was around people. He needed space, and a break from the merrymaking. Christmas was not merry for him. It never had been, not even when he was a boy. His family was poor and his parents didn't really care much to pay any attention to him. His mother was there sometimes but absent other times, lying in bed for days on end, sad eyes staring at the ceiling while Tobias drank downstairs. Especially during the cheer of the holidays. Oh, he had loved her alright, but he wished she had been less distant. It was like she disappeared when he was home for the holidays, sad and blue up in her bedroom.

It was no way to spend Christmas, and it was for that reason that Severus had never quite understood what all the fuss was about. Christmas to him had never been all that fun, if he was going to be honest with himself.

He walked away from the party, the last tendrils of cheery music releasing him into the night so that he could walk in silence toward the Astronomy tower. He ascended with a kind of fervour, bursting forth from the staircase and into the chill night, the wind having died down from earlier until only thick fluffy flakes drifted down. It was dark but for the lights of the castle windows, which shone in great beams that illuminated the snowflakes before being swallowed by the deep navy blue of the night.

Severus approached the railing, inviting the cold and releasing a breath he had been holding far too long. He pulled a pair of thin gloves from his pocket and slid them over his chilled hands before placing his forearms on the railing.

He closed his eyes, silence all around, not a breath of wind in the air. Very faintly he could hear the sound of snowflakes settling in his hair and on his cloak.
What was the point of all this? What was the purpose of celebrating being alone? Christmas. What was it even supposed to be? He knew what it was to children - gifts from their parents and being loved. But what was Christmas if you never had those things, really? Even as a child, Christmas was a reminder of what he didn't have. His parents never bothered to give him a single gift for Christmas, and maybe it was because they were too poor, but others in the same predicament made it work, Severus knew. Even just a homemade card, a folded paper swan, a new pencil, a hug and a kiss. It wouldn't have mattered what it was. Just knowing his parents cared would have been enough.

"Pitiful," muttered Severus, scoffing at himself and muttering under his breath in a mocking tone. "Look at me. Bitter and hateful because Daddy and Mummy didn't love me. Imagine what the students would think …"

He shook his head. Quite suddenly, a ringing erupted in his ears. Surprised, Severus shook his head a little harder, thinking he was hearing things. It was the sound of a bell, a small one, and it wasn't in his head after all, but elsewhere.

Severus whipped around, surprised to see that something appeared to have fallen from either the rafters or the railing, for a tiny silver bell was rolling across the cold stone floor. It rolled along until it got stopped by a small drift of snow inside the chill tower.

Frowning, he picked it up. It jingled for a moment, gleaming innocently.

The tower disappeared in a flash.

The End.


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