Yours, Severus Snape.

Chapter 3 - Yours Joyfully,

Dear Professor Snape,

I had intended to resist, and not write to you until after the 25th, alas I find myself incredibly bored only 3 days into the holiday. Having successfully completed my homework I find myself searching for intellectual stimuli, something that doesn't appear to occur very often at the Weasley residence.

Do not get me wrong, I enjoy their company and appreciate the Weasley's offer of lodgings over the Christmas period. However I find myself dreaming of the Hogwarts libraries. The only books on the Weasley's shelves are household spell guides which, judging by the endless food and spotless kitchen, seem to be serving Molly Weasley well.

I do hope that you have spent a small portion of your time off with the remaining staff at Hogwarts, Sir. As they say, Christmas is a time for loved ones. Who knows whether we will have a Christmas at all next year, given the state of things.

You will notice that I have resisted the urge to spew out every detail of the Weasley's Chirstmas festivities, as I fear you would not find it very enjoyable to read. In exchange for this favor, I beg you write back and tell me all about your plans for the day.

Your reply will be my most anticipated gift to open this year.

Yours joyfully,

Hermione Granger.

----

Miss Granger,

It does not surprise me in the least that you dream of the school library. It would be incredibly amusing should you ever get to see my own private library. I possess such a collection of first edition novels and rare finds, that a mere glance would bring any bibliophile to their knees.

My plans for Christmas are as always; I shall share a meal with the Hogwarts staff and remaining students, and then return to my quarters to indulge in as much Firewhiskey as my stomach can handle. This has been my personal festive tradition since my sixth year at Hogwart's and I do not suspect it will die soon. 

Your pitiful account of the lack of educational material at the Weasley household (where I assume you are to stay until you return to school), has forced my hand in breaking one of my other festive traditions. 

Yours kindly, 

SS

---

A pecking at the widow of the bedroom she shared with Ginny had awoken Hermione early on Christmas morning. The sky outside was still a dark, scattered with glittering stars and there was a layer of frost that covered the grass on the Weasley's front lawns. The windows were beaded with condensation and the window sills damp to touch. 

She pushed open the wooden window pane enough for the tawny owl to drop the parcel in its claws onto the window sill, before it flew off. Hermione hastily shut the window, her fingers already tingling from the cold air. She glanced behind her at Ginny, who was still snoring lightly despite the noise Hermione had made. 

A brown paper-wrapped parcel with a letter attached had been delivered. Hermione opened the letter curiously. There was only one person with whom she had been communicating with via owl, and Hermione thought she knew him well enough to know that Christmas presents were not something he regularly indulged in.

Indeed, the letter and parcel had been sent by Professor Snape.  Hermione couldn't help but grin as she tore open the brown paper, to reveal a book with an aged leather cover. A Compendium of Complex Potions and Magical Drafts said the title. Hermione ran her fingers over the ancient cover, wondering how much this must have cost the Professor. She opened the front cover and a must smell of dust and damp invaded her nostrils. 

She tore open the attached note, failing to hide her excitement. 

Dear Miss Granger, 

Treat with care, this book is older than the two of us combined.

Enjoy yourself, 

Severus Snape. 

Unable to resist, Hermione lit her wand under the cover of her blankets and opened the first chapter.

---

Severus lay on his sofa on Christmas day, having consumed far too much turkey, pigs-in-blankets, roast potatoes, stuffing and roasted vegetables, sipping heartily from his 2nd glass of firewhiskey. 

Miss Granger had been right, he wasn't sure whether there would be Christmas the following year. The Dark Lord's plan had progressed at a pace that he hadn't expected, Dumbledore had been infected with a curse that was rapidly spreading through his body and the Malfoy boy would surely kill Dumbledore (or get himself killed) before he had completed his end-of-term exams. 

War as inevitable. Severus had spent a lot of time considering whether the Potter boy had the balls to see it through, or whether he would give up at the earliest opportunity. The longer the war lasted, the more likely it was that Severus would not make it out of the other side. But if the Dark Lord were to discover his true loyalties, he would be a dead man regardless. 

"Christmas is a time for loved ones", Granger had written. It was bizarre how his letters from the brazen Gryffindor had sneaked their way into his life. He was becoming increasingly fond of his conversations with Miss Granger, although every time received a reply, he wondered whether it would be his last. Either the Witch would give up or he would cease to exist. 

She was his little secret.

"Christmas is a time for loved ones" he thought, again. Damn the young woman who had gotten that into his head. It was unbearable. He thought of the rest of the faculty who spent their Christmas's making merry and playing cards in the staff room. Severus had never once joined them. He thought of Dumbledore, the man who had been kind to him when no one else had, who was running out of time in this life. He thought of the young Miss Granger's smile, one that he didn't deserve. 

"Fuck it. fuck it all." Severus grumbled, snatching his cloak off of the hook and storming upstairs to the staffroom to join Dumbledore and the others.

He hated it when she was right.