The snow fell softly on the ground, covering the world with a powdery white blanket. The cold deterred any soul in search of an adventure; all relaxing within the warm confines of their home.
Severus too was warding off the cold in front of the fire.
However, he was not relaxing. That was evident by the way he was muttering to himself angrily, a dark look spread across his face.
His bad mood had a cause, though there would be some who'd say that the 'Dungeon Bat' had no need for a reason to be angry.
Severus hated Christmas.
He hated the Christmas cheer and he hated the presents and above all, he hated the giggling of excited children high on sugar and junk food.
Even the adults were no better. All of them somehow felt that Christmas was a time it was acceptable for children to become tiny monsters, all sense of discipline thrown out the window.
The clock struck six and Severus doused his flames with his wand. He was clad in his usual black robes and would undoubtly stick out like a sore thumb, but he did not care. Nothing could make him dress in Christmas clothes of those garish colours.
Locking the door to his quarters securely, he began the long trek to the Great Hall. Most people would prefer to not walk that far, but Severus appreciated it. It gave him time to clear his mind.
As the only sane one in the castle, Severus felt it was his duty to maintaince order. He had tried to complain, but the response was lacklustre at best.
"Come on, Severus, let them enjoy their Christmas. I remember how it was to be a child…"
That, of course, was Albus' view — not surprising in the least.
It was Minerva's response that surprised him.
"Everyone needs some time to let their hair down, so to speak. In fact, you ought to try that yourself."
She had looked at him so sternly that Severus had all but fled from her presence. There were times when she could make him feel like a misbehaving student, and that was one of them.
Finally he reached the Great Hall, wincing at the loud noise of inane chatter coming from within. Pulling himself to his tallest, he strode in.
Any hope Severus had of fading into the background was dashed the moment Albus invited him with a beam and a hearty voice. Severus hid his grimace and slid into his seat, glaring at anyone who met his eyes.
Soon everyone went back to their food, pushing Severus out of their minds, and he relaxed. Unseen and unheard was how he liked to be best. He lost himself in mindless thoughts, hoping for the evening to pass more quickly.
Nevertheless, it was nearly nine when Severus managed to take his leave. Reaching the silence of his quarters at last, he made himself a hot-chocolate and relaxed in his chair before the fire.
…
Harry gazed at the merriment around him wistfully, wishing he could join. As like his experience of past years, no one bothered to pay attention to him. He was, and had always been unseen and invisible, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Harry wished Ron were here. He had been so excited when Ron had told him that he'd put his name up to stay for the holidays, but soon afterwards he'd been called home, his mother writing that Christmas was a time for family.
Harry had waved Ron's apologies away with forced cheer — after all, anything was better than the Dursleys.
It didn't feel that way now. Harry poked at his food disinterestedly, keeping his eyes down.
A movement in his peripheral vision had him looking up, only to see Snape quietly getting up and walking away. No one except for Harry glanced in his direction.
No one had paid attention to him coming in either, Harry remembered, except for sending half a glance his way, attracted by Dumbledore's voice. Maybe, Harry mused, Snape was as lonely as Harry himself was.
That reminded Harry of the promise he'd made to himself when he'd entered his vault for the first time — that he would share his money with everyone.
He'd kept it too. He had bought presents for everyone he knew, even if his knowledge was as little as their name. Even for Professor Snape.
Harry remembered guiltily of the present wrapped messily lying under his bed. All the rest of the present Harry had given carefully, but he'd decided at the last minute that Snape didn't deserve a present. Not after the way Snape had been extra cruel in their last Potions Class before the holidays.
Harry was so lost in thought that he didn't hear a seventh year, Alexandre Rushton, calling his name. The boy's hand on his arm startled him so much so that he nearly upended a jug full of pumpkin juice sitting in front of him.
Becoming aware of Alexandre's attention on him, Harry blushed in embarrassment.
The seventh year smiled at him. "Can you pass the treacle tart, please?"
As soon as Harry passed it over, Alexandre returned to his conversation with Professor Flitwick on his opposite side and Harry sinked back into his slump.
It was almost midnight before the party was over and Harry was able to escape to Gryffindor Tower. He was feeling exhausted, but he had one thing left to do.
Ten minutes later, the present was delivered and Harry fell into his bed, conscience clear. No one was left out.
…
Severus was enjoying the last of the day, having found a good book to read. He sat in front of the dying flames of the fire, lost on a voyage with a couple of detectives chasing after a gang of clever smugglers.
He was at a particularly exciting scene when a knock on the door nearly had him jumping out of his skin. Grumbling, he left his comfy seat and strode towards the door, swinging it open. There was no one one there.
A practical prank, Severus thought sourly. His peace destroyed, Severus nearly banged the door close when a package wrapped like a present sittng on the floor caught his attention.
A detection charm told him it was free of magic, but that didn't mean much for a determined prankster.
Reluctantly, Severus picked it up, reading the tag tied to the ribbon.
For Professor Snape
His lips curled into a sneer. He would recognise that chicken scratch anywhere: it was from Potter.
He almost vanished it then and there, but curiosity got the better of him. It was always one of his persistent weakness.
He unwrapped it carefully, hesitantly. Underneath the wrapper was a box. Even more anxious, he opened the box slowly, half expecting for a jack-in-the-box or something equally unamusing.
It wasn't.
It was filled with six beautiful crystal vials, capable of holding even the most corrosive substance. He took one out, admiring the colourful colours reflecting on the walls.
His gaze fell on the clock on the mantelpiece.
11:59 p.m. Time for bed.
Without realising it, a small smile played across his lips as he placed the vial gently into the box.
This was the most valuable present he'd ever received.