Severus stared at the calendar in the staff room, a chipped mug of tea in his grasp. Minerva, having just filled her own mug, came up beside him.

"You look ill," she said dryly, eyes flicking from Severus to the calendar. He didn't pay her any attention.

"Twelve days until Christmas," Severus said hoarsely, staring blankly and forgetting for the moment just who he was talking to.

"Since when have you cared?" Minerva said, stopping mid sip and lowering her mug. She leaned in slightly, looking into his eyes. "Are you ill?"

"What's wrong with Severus?" Flitwick asked curiously, paying them some attention once he noticed Minerva's strange behaviour.

"He's counting the days until Christmas," Minerva said, narrowing her eyes. Severus slapped her hand away from his forehead as she tried to take his temperature.

"He's definitely sick," said Flitwick.

Severus scowled, cursing himself for forgetting the company he was in. "I'm only looking forward to the majority of these blasted children going home."

"False alarm, everyone," said Minerva, looking exasperated but relieved. "The Grinch is doing just fine."

Severus finished his tea, thumped his mug on a table, and swooped out of the room, Minerva's insistence that she was only joking ringing after him.

Honestly, he actually didn't care all that much about her comment. He only left for the effect. That, and he was furious with himself. He was so furious, in fact, he wanted to hit himself over the forehead. Hard. What was wrong with him? He had been a successful spy for years! And look at him, making comments about Christmas like a normal human being. He'd always cursed the holidays before this. Severus himself, of all people, should know that.

Who ever thought he'd be pretending that he was such a Grinch?

For a moment he pictured the look on Minerva's face if he had told her the truth, and he smirked. She'd be dumbstruck and speechless for days if she knew exactly what task he'd accepted last Christmas.

Right. Severus's stomach clenched again. The task. The task. Twelve days until Christmas, the morning of which everything had to be in order for. Eleven until Christmas Eve arrived, the night Father Christmas was supposed to work wonders.

And Father Christmas was currently scowling at singing suits of armour, and glaring at students drunken on yuletide cheer. Severus Snape, undercover Santa. Dear Merlin.

Had he gone mad?

Severus had considered a few times the possibility that he was delusional. More than a few times, actually. Despite the events of last December, he sometimes wondered if he didn't have brain tumour that accounted for the whole strange idea. But no, there was no denying it. It was real. And right now, the whole being Father Christmas thing was a lot scarier with Christmas twelve days away. It was one thing getting coerced, (more like kidnapped, made to take over a very complicated delivery route with his least favourite student, forced to make children smile - appalling - and then coerced) into taking over the business by a friendly old man looking to pass on the title, but to actually run the operation yourself, in secret? Extremely intimidating. Severus was definitely out of depth.

But even so, he had to admit, things were going well. They were on schedule at the workshop, and had only encountered minor mishaps. He'd dropped by the workshop nearly every evening this month just to make sure things were going well. All the gifts were being made, and they were even ahead. Completely aware of the cliché nature of his decision, Severus had spent hours the other day double checking the list in the big book to make sure that every child in Great Britain recorded as having no gift coming to them by others was marked down so Father Christmas could make up for that. It looked like they had everyone marked down as having a gift set to come to their location recorded on the list (his list, Merlin, that was something he still couldn't get used to). Looking at the sheer numbers, he was very glad for the other Father Christmases covering their own countries.

It made Severus feel secretly good, though, to know that he was making sure that magical children without a gift coming to them this Christmas would receive one, like he had as a child. Of course, he'd never dare admit this. He'd also never dare admit that it filled him with an odd sort of wonder at the fact that a child's magic could be located with that amazing book, and that this magic could reveal whether they were loved or cared for, or in this case, whether they have someone in their life able and willing to give them a gift.

The deadline for delivery of these gifts was approaching fast, and for the first time in his life, Severus actually felt in the spirit for the most part. Maybe it was because Christmas had always meant loneliness for him, even as a child. He'd been forced to watch everyone else partake in Christmas, either in getting gifts, or in having family to love them. He hadn't really had  that either, his only joy that mystery of Father Christmas' gift at the foot of his bed. Now, he sort of felt like was making up for all the sadness. It was strange to feel so little heart-ache this time of year, so little emptiness. It almost scared Severus how good of a mood he was in because of this. Besides the heart-stopping terror of knowing he was responsible for giving gifts to more children than could fit in Hogwarts, of course.

Still, he could not deny he was rather enjoying the atmosphere this particular year (not for lack of trying). The castle was decked out in tinsel and wreathes and the twelve tall trees were set up. The students would be going home in eight days, and Severus could hardly wait. That would give him a few days to really get things sorted out, when it didn't matter if he was gone most of the day. Besides, it would be easier to steal Potter to the workshop.

Another part that made him wonder if he had a tumour in the more vital regions of his brain. He'd agreed to let Potter be his assistant.

He also blamed the previous Father Christmas for the fact that he actually liked the boy now. He liked Potter. Now that was a shudder-worthy realization. Severus supposed he wasn't entirely to blame, as Potter had shown a much less bratty ride after being dragged along into the whole fiasco with Severus last year.

So, a few classes more, and then he would be going off to the workshop.

Later during class, Severus could not help but notice that Potter was practically vibrating in his seat with the excitement for Christmas. Severus, as they'd agreed a few days previously, gave Potter detention. It was the perfect cover to whisk him off to the workshop tonight. Potter made an excellent show of scowling (Severus noted the eerie similarity to his own scowl, and congratulated himself for Potter's progress). Previously, Potter hadn't done quite as good a job of looking upset, and his friends had asked him what was up with him, nearly smiling when he got detention. Thank goodness the boy hid it better now.

***

Evening came around, and as soon as 7:00 hit, Potter showed up, more punctual than he ever had been for a real detention, something mildly irksome to Severus.

"Ready to go?" Severus asked him, and Potter practically jumped up and down with excitement. Severus handed Potter the pot of floo powder, then took a handful himself.

"The Workshop!" Potter cried as he stepped into the emerald flames.

Severus followed immediately, and after the dizzying sensation of travelling by floo, he stepped out of the giant, ornate fireplace and into the main workshop. Potter was already standing at the railing.

"Father Christmas, sir," said a familiar house elf, dressed in red and green over the gold of the rest of the house elves working below.

"How many times, Merry - you don't need to bow every time you see me," Severus said, although he made sure his words didn't come across as irritable, for the Christmas Elves got rather mopey if you did, he'd found.

Severus stood at the wood railing and looked down to see how things were going. All around elves were looking up, and grinning toothily, waving if they could. Potter waved back eagerly, and even Severus nodded his head.

"Father Christmas, sir, your jacket, and Master Harry's," Merry said, holding up the deep red jacket made for within the workshop, which Severus took and threw over top his robes. Potter got the smaller green one. Severus had thought it odd at first (stupid, actually), but the house elves insisted that wearing the colours around the workshop helped them spot Severus, and made them feel more in the spirit. These jackets were similar to the warm, fur-lined ones that were in the cloak room for outdoors, but thinner.

"How's production going?" Severus asked Merry, who strode alongside them as they went down the large, spiral staircase that wrapped around a great tree trunk, harvested to use as the support.

"Very well, sir," Merry said eagerly. "We only have the Z's to go through, and then we are done all the gifts. We double checked the A-N gift storage room up front of the workshop, and it is complete. I have someone doing a check of the O-Z room. "

Severus glanced to his right, for this storage room was in the back of the shop where they were, and sure enough he could see a small set of ears and Christmas hat darting around in it.

"Can I go check on the reindeer?" Potter asked, and Severus nodded.

"I will join you when I am finished here," Severus called over his shoulder as Potter ran for the staircase. "And it's cold - put on all your winter clothes, not just the coat and boots!"

Merry gave him a warm smile, and Severus rolled his eyes.

"Just watch, he won't put on the hat, and he'll forget his mittens," Severus said.

"Master Harry is lucky to have someone watching out for him," Merry commented serenely, although the statement, as always, seemed to hold more meaning beneath it. Severus swore that elf would have Severus adopt Potter if he had his way.

He followed Merry in front of the face of the enormous clock, its gears clacking away smoothly behind them, in rhythm with the hundred or so elves working steadfastly. Severus had decided the big book should stay inside the workshop for reference, rather than have the elves make a list from it and then bring that to the workshop. The previous Father Christmas had been able to live in the workshop, and had made a detailed list for the elves with suggestions for individual gifts for each child. Severus didn't have as much time, so in addition to himself giving suggestions, he'd moved the book in here so the head elf, Merry or any of the twelve Star Elves (Severus thought the name was supremely stupid, but he supposed he'd inherited it) Merry managed could decide what to give the children based on descriptions of their likes and dislikes in the big book.

The Star Elves were the elves best at making toys. They were nominated and voted to become the managers for each Christmas season, and became part of the Head Elf's team to manage the other elves. It was stunningly democratic. Completely opposite of Hogwarts' happily governed Elf population. Even Merry, head elf due to his wisdom and age, could be given a change of position if the elves petitioned for a new Head Elf. Severus had yet to meet any other group of house elves that were more keen on rights than this one. He decided it must have something to do with the first elves to have joined the Order of Christmas' branch in Britain did so by their own volition. Apparently some even managed to get themselves freed by doing very terrible jobs - in the places where bad house elves were given clothes rather than beheaded, of course.

Severus did the usual tasks he did when visiting, approving gifts and charming a quill to skate over the tags for today with a note to the children and a Love Father Christmas.

He'd inherited that part too. Though he did agree that it worth something, having remembered reading the tag on his gift as a youngster bearing the same message.

The elves could have done that part. But Severus, loathe though he would be to admit it, insisted on doing that himself. It was a simple spell, and while it made his writing look different from if he did it by hand (probably a good thing considering how illegible his writing was) the message did come from the heart. Even if Minerva joked that he was a Grinch who didn't have one.

When this was done he bade the elves good luck, and told them to get some rest, for goodness sakes (they didn't listen much to that, he'd found) and then went to find Potter.

He went to the coat room, and threw on his own winter clothing. He'd honestly rather have had the green jacket and trousers, but unfortunately red was the colour that he was supposed to wear by tradition. Potter got a small green jacket and trousers. He pulled on the warm, fur-lined hat, and the mittens, and tromped out through the thick snow and to the barn, where the Reindeer would likely be getting some love from Potter.

Sure enough, Potter was brushing them. All the Reindeer had their own stalls, but they were open and they were free to roam and visit each other. Thankfully they were very friendly creatures, and did not fight.

Atlas, the head reindeer, pranced over to Severus, and nuzzled his pockets.

"I haven't got carrots, you great lump," Severus said, but as he said so he reached for a brush gave him a scratch on the back.

"I think Atlas missed you," Potter said, laughing as the reindeer twitched and snorted happily as Severus rubbed his back.

The gate to the outside pen was open, and Royal and Rain, the two oldest reindeer and long-time mates, came in, stamping and huffing, though evidently with pleasure.

"Ah, Rain, how are you, old girl?" Severus said fondly, scratching her forehead slightly. She closed her eyes to his touch, her spotted coat silky smooth to Severus's hands. Royal bunted Severus slightly. "I know, I know, she's all yours."

Royal snuffled, bowed slightly as reindeer were apt to do, then led the way through the small group of reindeer around Harry so Rain could lay down. Halcyon, Rain and Royal's foal, long grown, paused in chewing to bump noses with Rain.

There was a slight commotion as Severus felt his hat lifted off his head. To his amazement, one of the reindeer had it on his antlers, and was running coltishly around the stable. Potter doubled over, laughing as the reindeer came back and held the hat too high for Severus to reach. Severus jumped slightly, trying to get it.

"For the love of Merlin, Pants, give me back my hat," Severus said exasperatedly.

"Pants," wheezed Potter between laughs.

Pants looked down, hearing his name being laughed at, and stared at Severus' big doleful eyes.

"I'd change it, but you know that doesn't work," said Severus dryly, recalling last year's Father Christmas saying that the first thing you call a reindeer is the only thing it will respond to for the rest of its life. "It isn't my fault you stepped on the old Father Christmas' foot."

Pants snorted a little, but lowered his antlers enough for Severus to get his hat.

"Yes, it's good to see you too," Severus said to Pants, whose ears perked up a little. Potter had finally stopped laughing, and now lay in the straw, being nuzzled by Calypso and Caspian, who had recently become inseparable as a couple. "Well, Potter, we had best get back."

"Awwww," Potter moaned.

"I do not want to hear it. Get your mittens and hat." Potter's eyes widened. "Potter, I told you not to forget -"

A loud, siren-like wail filled the air. Severus jumped badly, and the reindeer snorted and stamped their feet. Severus paled.

"Sir, what is it?"

"Fire," croaked Severus.

No. No, no, this wasn't happening, Severus thought.

Severus ran out of the stable. Already an orange glow was painted across the snow, the dark night sky illuminated. House elves had come streaming out, and were grouping according to their work teams.

"Merry, what's going on?" Severus shouted, fear infused in his voice.

Merry ran over. "The kitchen, sir, something caught. The alarm didn't go off as soon as it should have -"

Severus watched in horror as flames burst out of the back of the shop. Already house elves were snapping their fingers, shooting huge streams of water into the air where the fire was around the back.

"The big book was saved," said Merry. There was a loud whistle, which appeared to have been made by one of the elves. Merry relaxed at the sound. "That means we're all accounted for."

"Good," Severus said, and with no further, printed down to the side of the house. He pulled his wand out, and shouted aguamenti.

Potter ran to his side. The fire roared up above the wooden shingles. The entire back half of the workshop was going to be ruined.

"No - go to the barn. Stay there." Severus gave the boy a small push, as all around more house elves were joining in. The flames were dying fast now, but the damage had been done during the evacuation. Potter let out a choking sound, but he did as he was told.

The house elves had it covered, so Severus stumbled back, the heat searing his face as he watched the scene. The sooty steam rose up in a fog, hot and turning to great billowing clouds as it cooled in the winter air.

It had been so fast. It had all been so fast.

After about ten minutes, the wreckage was out, and the fog had cleared somewhat, giving Severus the first glimpse of the wreckage. He stared in disbelief at the sooty, blackened pools of slush all around. Portions of the roof had caved in where the kitchen was in the back end, and the workshop had gotten it, bad. The building was wood, and old. Severus felt a stabbing, painful jab in his chest when he realized that one of the gift storage rooms was directly parallel to the kitchen. The flames, put to an end, left just smoke and ash. A burned out shell was what had become of half the workshop.

The elves stood around, their Christmas aprons blackened by soot, tears running down their dirty faces. Severus nearly followed suit, his eyes prickling from more than smoke as he went first into the back of the building. The kitchen he avoided completely. Through the hall he went, in through the door to the floor of the workshop, built into the hillside. The whole interior was scorched, water ruining what wasn't. However, it looked like the front sitting room, office, and cloak room, and the Yuletide Time Turner survived, for the flames did not reach past the far end of the workshop, where those rooms lay above it and behind the walls. The spiral staircase was burned and blackened, but still able to reach the portion of the workshop above the hill. There was another toy storage room near there. But the toy room at this end, was a sight to behold. Severus entered it.

Dolls lay melted, books sodden wrecks, toy cars were blackened, and stuffed animals lay sad and limp in the sooty puddles. The wreckage sizzled, and Severus looked above as the snow started fall in through the ceiling, turning to slushy sleet as it got closer to the warm wreckage. This was half of the gifts. They not be salvageable.

Severus stumbled out of the workshop, and stood at the back door, staring down the sloping hill at the elves, standing there in masses, sobbing bitterly. Apologies floated up at him. Merry was standing in the snow, looking at him.

"They're waiting, sir, for you to say something," he said quietly.

Severus stared at the masses, at the wide, teary eyes looking up from under Christmas hats.

"What do I say?" whispered Severus, feeling as though he had fallen into cold, icy water, and found there was no bottom.

"Anything." Merry looked up at him, determination on his eyes. "Master Jeremy, the old Father Christmas, picked you for a reason. I believe in his decision."

Severus nodded, but he had to look away, for the intensity of Merry's gaze hit him hard like a punch in the stomach, for the belief in his eyes was evident. Severus stepped forward slightly and cleared his throat nervously.

What could he say? The elves were weeping, holding each other, and some even looked like they were prepared to be scolded. Severus found a few words, and he ran with them.

"I do not want to hear apologies," said Severus, his voice carrying easily in the dead silence left following the fire. "I do not blame any elf for this. I am merely grateful everyone came out alright. The workshop can be salvaged ... in time."

He searched for more to say, wishing he knew what to do. But he didn't. So he floundered on, hoping what he was saying was the right thing.

"As you all know ... there are eleven days until Christmas Eve," he said, his words catching in his throat. He caught sight of Potter, broken like the elves, having returned to see what was left. "I know that isn't much time. Many of the gifts are destroyed. The room storing gifts for surnames O through Z is finished. Magic will not save those gifts."

There were gasps, and murmurs.

"I ... right now ... I do not have an answer. I wish I did, but I will have one soon. But for now, we should be grateful that the stable up the hill, and the houses for all of you elves remain intact. I propose you return to your dwellings. Take the evening off. The workshop will have to be fixed another time, and I will search for place where we may resume our activities in the meantime, and hopefully make up for what is lost. The gifts for children with surnames M through Y are gone, yes, but we still have gifts from A through N. That is a blessing we should count." Severus paused, thinking. "The elves at Hogwarts have been helping with gift distribution within the castle for a very long time ... and perhaps, if we are lucky, I can persuade some of them to come and help as extra hands in the coming days."

"Tomorrow evening I will return, hopefully with a solution. When morning comes I would like a crew of elves to make sure that the first gift storage room is fully accounted for as it appears to be. Another crew may board off sections of the workshop that were damaged, to protect the remaining undamaged areas. Some clean-up can begin while I search for another place with the space and resources for us to work with."

The Elves nodded morosely, and Severus could tell what they wanted was hope.

Hope, how could he ever give hope? He'd never been good at hope.

"We are still here, are we not?" he said, his voice lowering, causing the elves to shuffle inward. "Christmas is still Christmas without gifts. Even if it means we can only give children cards bearing a message from Father Christmas, it is the message that is important. The knowledge that they are cared for and thought of. Every Father Christmas has left that legacy of love, and ... we shall too. No matter what."

The elves murmured, nodding and agreeing.

"As for communication, any messages to me can be given to Merry, the most urgent being priority. That is all, for now. I will keep you updated."

Severus stepped through the crowd, the elves watching him go, already getting into their groups and looking to Merry and the Star Elves for support and guidance.

"That was good," Potter said to Severus, although it was evident he was upset. Severus was not surprised he'd returned from the stables. He didn't have the energy to chastise him.

"The fireplace in the sitting room should have survived," muttered Severus. "We will be able to get to Hogwarts without notice that way."

Severus' head swam as he led Potter there. They removed their winter clothing, and hung it in the coat room, which was untouched as well. Potter went through the floo first, and then Severus followed. For a moment, they stood there, not knowing what to do.

"We'll think of something," Potter said. "We will."

"You should be getting back to your common room. If anyone asks, you cleaned soot off the bottom of cauldrons. That will explain the smell of smoke, to some degree."

Potter nodded, and left.

Severus stared out the small window in his quarters, and closed his eyes. He had half a mind to floo call the old Father Christmas. Jeremy, that was. But he would not be able to help anymore than Severus, and there had never been any mention of a spare workshop.

Besides. Severus was Father Christmas now.

He lay down in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, not bothering to clean the soot off his face and get the smell of the fire from his hair.

His very first year, and already he was letting everyone down. Minerva was right. He was the Grinch. Only he hadn't meant to steal Christmas. The way things were going, it was looking that way.

"I should have just stuck with what I know," muttered Severus. "I should have just stayed a teacher, and nothing else."

He shut his eyes tightly, and tried to forget the image of the workshop, all orange and flames against a dark sky.