Just Pretending (For Christmas) by Timorous

He would never know how this whole thing had spiraled to here. Maybe it was that unsung desperate hope for familial connection, for approval? Maybe it was his pride, strong and unwilling to undo such a silly little misunderstanding? Really though it was his cousins Bertha, Howie, Donald, and Bertram Snape, along with a bottle of whiskey and a dare.

Massaging his head, Severus stared at the open letter sitting on his coffee table.

The blasted letter, bringer of doom, instigator of the worst headache he had ever experienced.

The lilac purple cursive, written with a gel pen, scrawled across the page was written by grandma Werthman, the sister of Tobias Snape's mother, and Severus’ great-aunt.

Eight years ago his cousin Bertha had somehow figured out what his address was and, being the overly friendly woman she was, she had inducted him into their family. They were muggles, but they had faint memories of a young Eileen and her strange abilities, and also the strange things that a baby Severus had done. An extensive, low class muggle family; friendly, loving, rough around the edges, and ultimately something Severus had never realized he needed.

Letting out another melodramatic sigh, he glared at the letter again.

Merlindammed Irish whiskey, and Bertha, and Bertram, and the rest of the Werthman cousins, and their ridiculous summer parties. They'd bet he'd never made it with a girl, and he said he had, then they demanded proof, and what followed was the most eloquently given cock and bull story about women, and a one night stand, a child, a falling out and the dramatics of him never seeing his son, and then the mother's dramatic death. The last bit had been the clincher to the story, the cherry on the top, but it had also been his undoing. Severus had always been excessively loquacious when he became three drinks past tipsy.

Ever since that July night his entire family had been hounding him to find his long lost son. And now Grandma Werthman had driven the final nail in the coffin. This Christmas they would be welcoming the boy to the family.

Despite the woman's sweet appearance, she was a devil to not fulfill her wishes. The disappointment she cast was like a dark cloud which stung more than any belt Severus had been lashed with. So now he was left with two months to find his darling 12 year old child to bring back, one which did not exist.

He hadn't lied about having various romantic intrigues, but those had never lasted, nor had they led to a love child. He half wished they had. Where did one find 12 year olds on loan for family gatherings?

He shook his head. Clearly he needed to start figuring something out. Disappointing Grandma Werthman wasn't an option.

Harry stared in perturbation at the headmaster as he continued his speech. It was something about being calm and supportive during such difficult times. Harry however was stuck on the bit that came before that. Christmas break the school was closing. As awful as the prospect of Christmas with the Dursleys was, he knew it wasn't possible. They were vacationing in Brighton, they wouldn't be home to collect him, and they certainly wouldn't drive from Brighton to pick him up.

Maybe he could ask to stay with the Weasleys? But weren't they going to Romania to visit Charlie? There was always Hermione, but she'd been gushing about a holiday to France her parents were planning.

As he sorted through his options, Harry started to panic a little. What was he supposed to do, sleep in the backyard at Privet Drive and eat out of garbage bins?

Clenching the sleeves of his robe as he worried, he barely even noticed when the speech ended and dinner was served.

"Harry, you should eat something."

Hermione's hand came into view, a pot pie being deposited on his plate.

Harry frowned, shaking his head and looking up at his friend.

"I'm not all that hungry."

Hermione had already mastered her matronly look of disapprovement and she flashed it at him while shoving a roll into his hand. He took it and began nervously nibbling at it after another pointed look from his bushy haired friend.

Dinner passed, Ron voraciously tearing into his food, Hermione conducting some “light reading” and Harry staring off, nibbling at a roll, and pondering on his predicament.

Hermione glanced up, “you know, whatever it is you’re worried about Harry, you should talk to a professor.”

Harry’s face soured and he lowered the roll he had been eating. Ron rolled his eyes, and opened his half stuffed mouth to give an unintelligible retort on Harry’s behalf. Hermione let out a sigh and shook her head, book being pulled up to cover her face.

“I’m just saying Harry, it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

It was less than a month before winter break and Harry was no closer to figuring out what to do than he had been when he’d first gotten the awful news about the school closing. With a monster roaming the halls, and the incidents escalating, it was also even more unlikely that Dumbledore would change his mind about it. Harry had considered just marching up to the Headmaster’s Office, demanding that the school be reopened, and Dumbledore acquiescing with a surprised smile.

The fantasy certainly wasn’t getting him anywhere, that was for sure, and after concocting half a dozen plans to just bum it out on the streets in London, his Gryffindor tenacity had been outdone by the small bit of self-preservation which existed in him; it was supposed to be a bitterly cold winter, the worst seen in many years according to the gossip among the students.

So Harry was left with dwindling options, really only one at this point, and as a result he was standing outside Professor McGonagall’s door, nervously clenching and unclenching his hands.

After several more moments of thought, he raised his first and rapped at the door.

It opened.

“Mr. Potter? What are you doing here?”

“Uh, well,” Harry froze up a little bit, mind fastforwarding to what was seemingly an inevitable negative answer.

She raised her brow and Harry flushed with embarrassment.

“Come in, Potter, and we can discuss whatever it is.”

Feeling as though he were walking into the Lion’s Den, Harry meekly entered.

Once inside and the door shut, McGonagall swept over to her desk and took a seat, hand waving at him to do the same. Harry sat on the very edge of the chair and stared at his Head of House in consternation.

“Do tell, Mr. Potter, what brings you to my office?”

Harry shifted in his seat and his eyes flickered between the items on her desk and the woman herself.

“Well, you see, Professor, I can’t go home for winter break.”

“Why ever not?” she asked with a frown

He shifted again, “well, um, my aunt, and uncle, they’ll be on holiday, and they can’t come pick me up.”

She smiled in amusement, “that is very easy to fix, Mr. Potter, a teacher can easily take you there and pick you up at the end of the break.”

Harry frowned, stomach swooping as he lost his grasp on his arguing point. Uncle would beat the tar out of him, and Aunt Petunia, oh boy, there was no telling what she would do.

“But, you see, I can’t,” he said lamely.

Her eyebrow raised and her lips thinned. Harry desperately cast his mind around for some sort of reason which would keep him away from the Dursleys.

“My aunt’s sick,” he blurted out.

Her expression changed and it galvanized Harry into finishing his awkward lie.

“Real sick,” he said emphatically, “and, the trip, it is to help her get better. They wouldn’t be able to, keep me, it would be hard on them.”

The moment understanding crossed Professor McGonagall’s face Harry knew he had managed to pass it off.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that Mr. Potter, of course we will try to arrange something to help keep the burden from your family.”

Harry tried to look like a good little grief-stricken nephew and quickly exited the office.

Severus had less than a month to find a brat to pose as his son. He was getting desperate and highly considering “borrowing” one of his students, just confounding them and passing them off as mentally ill. An easy memory charm at the end and a quick lie and no one would be the wiser.

He shook his head as he strode toward the Great Hall, he’d pondered the idea and every time he came to the conclusion that it was an absolutely idiotic idea.

But what else could he do? Say the boy had also died in a tragic accident? Merlin have mercy the whole thing was completely out of hand.

Shaking his head again, he paused as he heard Minerva’s voice coming from the teachers’ lounge. He paused and back tracked. She had said something about a student needing somewhere to stay.

As she continued speaking, outlining the plight of their resident Potter menace, he felt an idea alight in his brain.

Severus grinned, an awful, horrible, grinch like grin of triumph. Turning the corner he glided into the teachers' lounge.

"My, my it seems to be quite the predicament, Minerva."

The transfiguration teacher cast him a withering glare.

"And what would you care of Mr. Potter's placement over the holidays?”

His lips turned up in a cold smile.

“Why, the safety of all our students is of the highest priority to me.”

Severus could tell that she was restraining herself from rolling her eyes.

“If Mr. Potter is in need of a home for the Winter Holidays, I am more than happy to offer my own.”

The teacher’s lounge entered a state of shocked silence. Even Trelawney, who had been muttering to her teacup about the quickly hastening doom of her classroom rug (one of her more precise prophecies in Severus’ opinion), stared in utter silence, eyes blinking behind her enormous glasses.

Severus had never enjoyed much gawking, especially now. Turning on his heel he swept from the room.

It would take some convincing he was sure, and the matter would need time to ruminate in the minds of the teachers, but the end all situation was that no one wanted to take on a brat for the first holiday of the year where they didn’t have to interact with children.

He knew each and every one of them had intricate plans; McGonagall a trip to the Bermuda’s with her partner, Flitwick a train trip along the magical Trans-Siberian railroad, Trelawney, well, he wasn’t sure what she did, but giving her a child for the holidays was out of the question, she would bring them back in a body bag claiming that their fate had been decided by her brew of hibiscus and lemon grass, and her cat Kittymeister the Third.

The fact of the matter was that he was their only choice.

Walking away with a grin of satisfaction, Severus couldn’t help but feel like he’d undone the proverbial Gordian knot of his present life.

A week before the start of the Winter Holidays, after an anxiety riddled two weeks of waiting and waiting, Harry was called to the Headmaster’s Office. This was it, this was the answer. In half-excitement he imagined that he would be staying with Professor Dumbledore himself. What sort of home would the ancient wizard have? Going by the many strange objects in the man’s office, Harry had no doubt that the man’s house was a proverbially magic menagerie. He began ascending the steps to the headmaster’s office.

Dumbledore was also a lover of candy, the entire winter break was no doubt going to be filled with delicious foodstuffs, no rules, and as much candy as he could eat.

By the time Harry reached the door, he had convinced himself that it would be the headmaster he would be staying with.

He knocked, and a moment later the door swung open. Standing inside was Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore.

Harry froze.

“What’s Snape doing here?”

“That’s Professor Snape, Mr. Potter.”

The cool, smooth tone which always promised humiliation and punishment made Harry’s stomach drop. The only reason he could be here was if-

No, it was too awful to consider.

Snape wouldn’t, couldn’t.

“Harry please come in, and do remember to address your professors respectfully.”
Harry took a few faltering steps into the office. Glancing at McGonagall he noticed the sympathetic look on her face. He felt sick.

“Now my boy, Professor McGonagall has told me all about your predicament. Fortunately Professor Snape has opened his home to you.”

Harry paled, mouth dropping open, and horror overtaking him. He was about to say something when a sharp look from his head of house caused him to stop short. It appeared that her sympathies only went so far. Harry felt betrayed.

Glaring at his potions professor, he couldn’t help but feel jipped. A holiday with Snape was sure to be ten times worse than anything Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia could dole out.

“What do you say Harry? Professor Snape is being very generous.”

Harry turned his glare on Dumbledore who merely smiled even wider. He looked to Snape, whose sneer was equal to Harry’s own upset.

“Thank you, professor Snape,” he said monotonically.

“There,” Dumbledore said with a happy grin, “that settles everything.”