"Well, at least I won't have to spend my Christmas Day trying to figure out how to change you back from being a cat this go around," he murmured against her ear as everyone else was destroying the wrapping paper their presents had been contained in.

It didn't matter from nearly sixty-six year old Thomas to the two of their great grandchildren who were both just months old they were all enthralled by everything. (Ten month old Wayne was a little more aware than two month old Marianne, which wasn't unexpected.)

The Harrisons would be over later, choosing these days to do their own celebrations. Severus was pretty sure, despite assurances otherwise, they felt as though they were intruding. Fifty years since they'd made the decision to welcome those four children into their homes and raise them as their own. Well, he wasn't sure why they felt they were intruding. They never said, and it wasn't just Hermione and Severus who invited them to join in. Maybe they just liked celebrating the bulk of their day with their actual blood relatives. He truly didn't know. All of their children and grandchildren had gifts and stockings here.

The adult children and grandchildren got smaller tokens as gifts, whether they be Prins or Harrison.

"You're hilarious," she said.

"It was pretty funny, truthfully. You gave me a good bit of amusement."

"I'd get mad at you for saying so and for laughing at me, but I know that you needed the amusement, so I'm glad that my misfortune could provide it to you."

"That is too kind of you."

"Right? Besides, you have no way of knowing whether I was just a diversion."

"What?" he asked, the humorous gleen in his eye extinguishing a bit.

"You don't really think it was just me who took the potion, do you?"

He arched a brow at that. He, honestly, hadn't really given thought to who else she might have given the potion to. At the time, he was irritated that he had to aid Poppy in healing the thief who'd stolen from him. So, why she'd done it, the purpose behind it, or that anyone else might have partaken in her dangerously made potion hadn't occurred to him. Stupid, perhaps, but at the time he'd been focused on other things and it just never occurred to him to ask. He just hadn't thought much beyond she was trying to do something she shouldn't have been.

"You didn't?"

"We did, and got the information we needed."

"So that was on purpose?"

Silence, and he stared at her. That this witch had a secret this late into things was baffling to him. Not that he felt betrayed or anything. She didn't know everything he'd done between 1960 to 1996 the first go around. (Or the second for that matter.)

"It'd serve you right if it was, but no," she said. "And we didn't really get the information we wanted. Some, just not as much as we would have liked." The last part was said with a roll of her eyes and a bit of a pout. Not quite as convincing of one as he'd been witness to in the past.

He laughed harder then because she truly sounded put out at having to admit that, and she scowled at him.

"You know," Philip's son Maxwell said. "It's entirely not right that you have inside jokes at your age."

"I think your grandson is calling us old, Erik."

"My grandson? He's yours when he's being insufferable."

"No, that is not how it works. Disrespectful males go to you."

"Believe it or not, Maxwell, there are lots of things about your Grandmother and me that you do not know, nor will you ever."

"Did you really meet her when she was eleven?"

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Yes, I did."

Why did all of them find that so unusual? He didn't marry her when she was eleven!

"Thomas and Millicent met when they were eleven."

"Yes, but you weren't eleven," Maxwell added.

He was right, and he supposed that was why there was curiosity behind their meeting when Hermione was only eleven.

"He was a prat," she said.

"She was an insolent…"

"Careful, Dear…language."

He huffed.

"And yet, you're here," Stephen said.

He was Willem's youngest. He was the only one to this point who was still single. Not surprising as he was only a fourth year at Hogwarts. Severus thought he'd caught him eyeing young Hermione a time or two. He was certain his Hermione thought he was going to have heart palpitations over the idea of Hermione Granger getting together with a wizard who was a blood relative.

"We are," they both said.

"I think it's sweet," Philip's wife Lisa said. "And romantic. My parents are still together, but I honestly couldn't tell you if they love one another let alone like one another. I've never had any doubt with you two from the first time I met you that you like and love one another."

"Most days," Hermione said.

"Begrudgingly," Severus said.

God it was cold in the dungeons, particularly when she was standing here debating on the wisdom of this course of action. She'd checked his office as their head of house, but that was empty. She presumed he was down here, but it was a guess. She had no idea where he'd go otherwise. She just knew that he was here in the castle. Well, that he had stayed for break. She supposed he could have gone somewhere for the evening. His rooms were an option, too, but she didn't know where those were. She wouldn't try to go there even if she did know where they were. She wasn't crazy enough to do that!

"Either come in or go away. Your indecision is going to give me a headache, which might or might not result in you being on the receiving end of a hex."

His voice came from somewhere on the other side of the door leading to his office for his role as professor. It always struck her very … luxurious that he had two offices, but when she thought about it, it made sense. Not every potions student was a Gryffyindor and they could need help, too. So the two offices kept his two types of business separate.

She knew he wouldn't really hex her. Well, any student. Over the past year, though, since he first approached her about helping him in her spare time. Well, she thought they'd forged a sort of friendship. Unconventional as it was. He was still her professor and she was still his student. Every once in a while, though, they'd talk for a moment or two, as if those roles weren't there. It hadn't happened often, but a few times so that she considered him a friend. She'd asked him for advice more than once on things that had nothing to do with potions, or even magic. He'd always spoken to her as if she was a peer. That was to say, he didn't talk down to her as if she wouldn't comprehend what he was saying. Or as if he was a professor and she was not, and that meant he was superior to her.

She appreciated that.

So, friends.

Maybe?

Certainly not just acquaintances. Not that she ever spoke to him outside of their evenings in his lab. She thought more than once she'd caught him watching her as she ate this school year, but it was hard to say if he was watching her or their table in general for any shenanigans someone was engaged in that would result in points being taken.

He did not like Gryffindor losing points.

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had forged some sort of … odd truce at the end of last school year. This led to Draco Malfoy being at Harry's birthday party in July. At that party, Hermione and Draco had talked more than just cordially. Stephen Prins had been at the party, too, and he and Hermione had talked for well over an hour about various classes and professors. The four of them were rather chummy now, and could be spotted together in the library most evenings, even if Stephen was ahead of them by two years.

She took a deep breath and pushed the door open. He said she could come in and, if she knew Professor Snape well at all, he already knew it was her. Of course, there weren't many students who stayed behind, so the process of elimination would tell him who it was. She'd know in a matter of minutes whether this was the most foolish thing she'd done.

"Happy Christmas, Professor," she said. "I missed you at dinner."

"Mm," he said.

It wasn't an actual greeting or response, but at least he hadn't told her to get out yet.

"Anyway, I, um, brought you some cookies. The elves assured me that you would get dinner."

"Yes," he said.

"You didn't go home then?"

"Home?"

"Yes, Sir, I presume you have one. Somewhere outside of Hogwarts."

"And yet you are here, Granger."

"Oh, yes, well, my parents wanted to do something this Christmas that I couldn't join them for. They …" She stopped explaining then. He likely didn't care what her parents were doing, or why she'd chosen not to go with them. He hadn't asked what her parents were doing. "Anyway, they're having fun I'm sure."

He hadn't moved. He hadn't even really looked at her since she'd come in. Okay, Hermione, get out before that changes.

"Anyway, I, um, will set the cookies down. I made them. Take from that what you will."

She set the plate of cookies down and then reached into the pocket of her robe. She took a box out, tapped her wand against it so it would return to its original size. She set it next to the plate of cookies, pointing her wand at it to fix the bow that had gotten a little crushed. She was kind of glad for whatever mood he was in tonight because she wasn't sure whether he would hex her for the gift. It was far too … personal than their arrangement called for, but she'd seen it, immediately thought of him, and couldn't resist.

"I won't bother you anymore tonight, but I am here over break. So if you had brewing you wanted assistance with."

"I am aware and will let you know."

"Thank you. Good night, Sir."

"Good night, Granger." He was quiet after that until she had her hand on the door to leave again. "And thank you for the cookies," he said, almost timed with her pulling the door closed.

"Oh, you're welcome, Sir."

She let the door close behind her and made her way quickly away from his office and out of the dungeons. She still wasn't entirely sure it wasn't a mistake, but he had said thank you. She was fairly certain Professor Snape never said thank you to anyone!

Severus stood after she'd left. It might have been fifteen minutes later, it could have been an hour. He wasn't sure. She had certainly cut to the quick, and the heart, of the matter. He had nowhere to go.

His home was depressing.

His mum?

He still wasn't ready to forgive and pretend they got along and had a normal family. He had no desire to see his sire, and that was all Tobias Snape was in Severus' eyes. He couldn't see her on Christmas Day without seeing him. So, that wasn't an option.

He'd remained quiet because she'd come, bearing cookies, wishes of a happy holiday, and a gift no doubt. He knew the cookies weren't the impetus that brought her here to his dungeon office. 

He'd remained quiet because he found over the past year as they spent time together brewing and experimenting (something she seemed to enjoy as much as he did), that she wasn't nearly as annoying or tedious as he thought her originally to be.

Whether it was Marie's heart to heart with the girl last November, he really had no idea. Other students, though, seemed to notice it, too. So it almost had to be her conversation with Marie. She had friends now. A few anyway, which was sadly more than the one he had even today. His friend was off doing who knew what over the holidays. Footloose and fancy free because of the Wolfsbane potion that he brewed for him. That Erik had invented with him as his assistant, and had given him credit on.

One of her friends he knew was Professor Prins' youngest grandson. The other was Lily's son. And the third, oddly, was Draco Malfoy. He'd heard tell that the four of them had quite a time at Harry's birthday party over the summer. (Not that he put much stock into rumours. He listened, though.)

She and Draco weren't close friends, but what had started last year as insulting superiority on young Malfoy's part had turned this year into a begrudging respect that this witch might just be able to give him a run for his money when it came to intelligence. And the best marks of their class as a result. Her potioning skills were certainly superior. He could only presume that was also true in the rest of their classes. He paid little attention to what other professors said about her specifically because he knew full well what she was capable of.

Whether she'd accomplish it remained to be seen.

Slytherins and Gryffindors getting along. It was … odd.

So, less annoying meant he might have been tempted to invite her to sit with him and talk. That was just nonsense. He was two weeks shy of turning thirty-three years old, she was thirteen. What could they possibly have to talk about? Why would she want to spend her Christmas Day night talking with him?

His floo lit up and his mentor's head appeared.

"There you are, Severus. Are you free?"

"Yes, Sir. Come on through."

The floo being connected was residuals of his mentor's time here at Hogwarts. Evidently, Albus hadn't disconnected the connection Erik had to various places in Hogwarts, including his former office. Severus rarely used it as Erik was usually here, and honestly he most days forgot the ability to contact anyone this way was available to him.

"Well, I can do that, or you can come through to me. You know our home is always open to you."

"I'm fine," he said.

He knew his response came out sounding harsher than he meant it to. They'd invited him for going on twenty years (before he finished as a student at Hogwarts). Initially he'd said no, not wanting their grandchildren … his peers, to see he had nothing to do (though he realized now that they likely knew anyway). Then after leaving Hogwarts he just felt as if he'd be an imposition, as if Erik was asking him out of some sense of obligation. They already had dozens at their dinner table each holiday. Why would they want one more mouth to feed?

"Very well, one moment." He heard his voice, obviously talking to someone in the room he was in (Marie presumably). "Coming through then, Severus," he said. His head was gone and a few minutes later he was there, exiting his fireplace.

As far as Severus knew, the Prins' were the only ones who had the ability to floo to and from Hogwarts outside of the headmaster's office. They could from their rooms as well from Severus' understanding. For things like this it was handy. And one of the reasons Severus "forgot" to mention it to Albus.

"Happy Christmas, Severus. I thought I might find you here. At least I don't see papers in front of you. That means maybe you took the day to relax. Did our invitation get lost?"

"No. You have…"

"There is always room for family at our table, Severus."

Family? Is that what Erik considered him? Yes, Erik and Marie had both said so over the years, but he'd just assumed they were being kind. Did they really mean it? And if so, why? What had he ever done to earn that moniker from them?

"I see the doubt in your eyes. Yes, you are family to both Marie and me. I have told you that before, but evidently you're too stubborn to understand that I am sincere in saying so. You have taught my grandchildren and their children in a position you relieved me from. That, to me, is family."

"Others have…"

"Others did not take my position. Others are not sitting in the very office that I sat in for numerous hours for the fifty-five years I taught. Others have not danced or brewed with my wife," he said and Severus felt himself blush.

For some wizards that would not be a teasing offense. Erik glanced at the cookies and the gift on the side table. Severus felt his cheeks heat that someone had … seen them.

"Ah, someone else was here? Am I interrupting? I apologize…"

"No," he said quickly. "A student, taking pity on me."

"Oh, I doubt that. If it was pity it would just be cookies. They seem to have left you a gift, too. Well, I'll share Marie's eggnog with you if you share a cookie with me," he said, holding up a pitcher of what he presumed was said eggnog.

He summoned two glasses suitable for eggnog from an elf, gesturing to the other chair next to the fireplace. The chairs weren't as new as the ones in his quarters, but they were nice. They'd come with the office. He imagined Erik and Marie spent more than a few hours in front of this fireplace together over the years. Erik filled Severus' glass first and then his own. He set the pitcher down and held up his glass.

"Happy Christmas, Severus."

"Happy Christmas, Erik."

They clinked their glasses and Severus took a sip, unsure what to expect. He'd had good eggnog and he'd had bad eggnog. This, though, was more than just good.

"Is there anything your wife cannot do?"

"If there is, I haven't found it yet. Aside from knowing when to quit anyway."

"Do you feel as lucky as most consider you?"

"Yes," his mentor admitted. "I am incredibly so. In truth, I thank Merlin that things worked out the way they did. I was on a lonely path before I met Marie, much as you are, Severus."

"I am fine."

"I know that you believe that you are," he said. "I did, too."

He could tell that Erik didn't mean it.

He wasn't being sarcastic, but somehow Erik knew him better than anyone else did. There were times he thought the older wizard even knew what he was thinking. Rumour was that he was one of the best legilimens in the wizarding world. He had in fact shared that gift with Severus many years ago. He didn't think he would use it on him without permission. He'd know now if he was attempting it, but that wasn't the case when he was younger. It wasn't that type of knowledge though. It was deeper, as if he truly understood him on a fundamental level. He got that impression from his wife as well. It was nice, but disheartening at the same time.

"One day, Severus, I will share my memories with you. All of them, and you will know as well what I speak of. It is not the time yet, though, to embark on that path."

It was … nice he had to admit. It was well after midnight when his former professor and mentor returned home. His parting words stuck with him, even though he knew he was joking.

"Thank you for giving me a reason to escape the madness for a while. Between you and me, my wife is a slave driver after a full house like today was. The Harrisons always come over late in the evening, after spending the day with their in-laws or at their respective homes. Sometimes I think they just like avoiding the chaos. I don't have anywhere to escape to!"

He winked as he gathered some floo powder into his hand and was gone.

Once alone again, he stood and, after using the facilities, returned to the plate of cookies that they'd made a bit of a dent in between the two of them. And the gift. Erik hadn't moved it or even asked who his visitor had been. He took it with a sigh and returned to his seat.

Funny, he lived alone and always had as an adult, but this was very much his seat. It had been Erik's favoured seat when this was his office he remembered. They'd had many of their own conversations while Severus was a student and since he'd become a professor in this office together. He'd been surprised it had been left here, but found it comfortable when he'd tried sitting in it. Like it was made for him, which was just ridiculous to think, even at Hogwarts. As it happened, their living quarters had been just on the other side of this office, given Erik was head of Slytherin house. He recalled the first time he'd been invited there, to their private quarters.

He had been twelve and in awe at the very homey feel to them. It was clear that there were years of history for them here. Professors did not invite students to their quarters. It just wasn't done. Severus realized then that Erik thought of him as more than just a student.

He liked him.

That had meant so much to him. He'd listened to Erik's thoughts on apprentice opportunities and gladly looked over the materials, knowing his professor and mentor would give him a glowing recommendation regardless of which he chose.

And then he'd retired.

Instead of making Severus leave all that was familiar to him, he'd retired and basically said he only would if Severus took the job. This castle, this school, was his home and he admittedly was a little bereft at the thought of having to go elsewhere to share his knowledge with the future generations of witches and wizards.

He sighed at the tightness in his chest as … feelings overwhelmed him. He hadn't had many people in his corner throughout his life, but he knew Erik Prins would always be one of them. And this office, even though the Prins' and their influences were absent from it these days. He swore there was an innate familiarity to it.

Home.

Dare he think it.

Family.

He tore open the wrapping and then opened the rather small box, surprised to see not potion accessories or a bookmark. Rather it was a stick pin with a lion's head at the top.

Professor Snape,

I hope that you will forgive any apparent forwardness, however, I noticed more than once when we have been brewing that your cravat sometimes interferes with the process by getting in your way. As you seem to think you need to be formally dressed even in your lab while I'm present, I saw this and thought that it would assist as well as keep in line with your house affiliation.

Happy Christmas,

Hermione J Granger

It was probably not a gift that he should accept. Actually, no probably about it. It was nice. Very nice. More than a thirteen year old should have spent on a gift. Especially on him. He held the stick pin up, regarding it. He could find no fault with the craftsmanship. The lion's head was detailed without being too big, as to get in the way of his work. It wasn't too ornate either as to appear gaudy.

He cast his patronus.

He'd never understood where it came from. He wasn't even sure he'd ever seen a swan in person. A swan is what it was, though. It wasn't as corporeal as it should have been, though. As if it wasn't done yet. For all that he'd mastered - and invented - and thought he excelled at, he knew that this spell's total completion eluded him. Tonight wasn't the first time he'd wondered what exactly it was waiting for? He was almost thirty-three years old, shouldn't it be finished by now?

"Thank you for the cookies and the gift. I am not worthy of such a gift, but your thoughtfulness is appreciated. Happy Christmas."

His swan sailed off like the graceful and proud creature it was. Then Severus picked up the pitcher of eggnog Erik had left behind and poured himself another glass.

"I have plenty at home," he'd claimed.

He couldn't imagine a home like that. Filled with love and laughter, an abundance of items to the point that leaving a good portion of something behind for someone else was of no consequence. Never mind they'd opened up their home to children orphaned in the muggle second World War, and still had a relationship with those children today. Certainly, including four more children in things was an expensive endeavour. He'd gone to school with a few of the Harrison's children. Two had been a year ahead of him if he recalled correctly. He never saw evidence that they, or their parents, had been treated any differently by the Prinses.

He wasn't a poor man by any means. He lived frugally and indulged in very few extravagances. There were times like this, he wondered what he was saving it for anyway? There were no prospects for anyone to spend it on or with. Yet, he kept saving.

He cast another patronus after a moment's hesitation. Guilt? Something else? He wasn't sure, but it sat there, waiting for his message. Clearly, it wasn't going to answer him.

"Happy Christmas, Mum."

With that, he finished off the eggnog and headed to his quarters and his bed.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com