The Christmas Gift

The Christmas Gift

Chapter Two: Kisses and Tears

That Christmas dinner was, for Severus, truly memorable. Beyond the shadow of a doubt the best Christmas he had ever had. He ate, and drank, and talked, and made her laugh, all as if he were a normal person... all as if he weren't a rotten apple fallen from the tree... And the beautiful young woman sitting across from him at the table, who he had done his best - his worst? - to antagonise for seven years for no other reason than the fact that she was a Gryffindor and Harry Potter's friend seemed to actually enjoy his company. He found himself wishing fervently that he could do more to help her than to merely turn himself into the court's jester, but that seemed to be easing the sadness in her eyes and he knew he shouldn't ask. And he was so damn grateful that she didn't, at least apparently, pity him.

Hermione would never have believed if someone had told her what amazing company her former professor made for. It had been such a pleasant dinner, filled with interesting conversation... and the man had an outstanding sense of humour as well. She had never seen him relaxed before, but it seemed to bring out the best in him... either that or he had suddenly been taken by the holiday spirit, but she didn't think it likely.

Midnight came, and Hermione's only concern was not having bought Severus a present. They were so deep in conversation, in fact, that midnight would have gone by completely unnoticed by the both of them if it weren't for the melodious chiming of her clock. Hearing the chiming, however, Severus was suddenly afraid he might be overstaying his welcome.

"Miss Granger, you must be tired. Forgive me, it was inconsiderate of me not to have noticed the time."

"Not at all, professor. I had a wonderful evening." She wasn't exaggerating a bit. Now that he was leaving, Hermione knew she would go to bed and sleep perfectly well because of the evening they had shared. It wasn't as if she had forgotten what had happened - her parents' faces would always be etched in her memory - but he had helped her during a critical moment and she was sure everything would be easier now. She briefly wondered what his story was, and why he didn't have anything better to do at Christmas than to spend it with her, but it wasn't her place to ask.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Granger."

"It was my pleasure. I'll walk you to the door, professor."

On a subconscious level, Hermione was aware something had changed. Somewhere down the line of her loneliness it had become personal; while at first she didn't want to be alone, now she didn't want him to go. Which was why she stopped him yet again as they reached the door, using a strategy she would later blame on one too many glasses of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey.

"Look, professor! We're under the mistletoe!"

Severus was unfamiliar with the tradition. "Excuse me?"

"The mistletoe. We're under the mistletoe." She met his eyes with her own and leaned closer, her cheeks aflame. "It's tradition to kiss under the mistletoe."

And she did, in fact, kiss him. Full on the lips. At the beginning Severus was too amazed to do anything. Then he became aware of what was happening and answered her with a kiss of his own, gentle, restrained, and yet so filled of unspoken passion and repressed hunger Hermione nearly wept. In a few short seconds all of the years she had known him played in her mind from a different perspective. How lonely he must have felt, how used. So many years of pain... Idiots like Fudge, pointing an accusing finger at him, not because he bore the Dark Mark but because he had had the courage to admit it. To show it and seek redemption. And because he didn't have the money, of course, or he would go from lowly Death Eater to respected patron in a flash.

Severus was trembling when he pulled away from her, cursing himself for his lack of self-control. He had known she was distressed, and had seen her drink a few more glasses of Ogden's than her fair share, how could he have taken advantage of it? Gods, he so disgusted himself! Yet then she looked at him, pressed closer into his embrace, silent tears coursing down her cheeks, her voice a whispered plea.

"Don't let go. Please don't let me go."

Severus was dumbstruck. "I..." Then she hesitantly placed both of her hands on his face and started exploring it, almost as if she were blind. He didn't move an inch, afraid something would crack if he did, unaware that he was holding his breath. He was a very private man, and had always been a very lonely one as well; this searching of his face felt more like an intrusion in his closely guarded space than even her kiss had been, albeit not wholly unwelcome. Finally, when the tension became too much to bear, he brought his strong hands to her face and gently wiped away her tears. Not even knowing why, Severus was certain that, at that moment, he would have given anything to take away her pain, even if for himself. His arms came around her tentatively.

"I won't. I've got you now, don't worry, I won't let go."

Even if a small part of him was aware that he shouldn't be doing it, that what she needed was a black cup of coffee, definitely not a needy Potions Master, he couldn't resist her pull. No one had ever looked at him like that, as if they needed him; even those who did need him, in fact, acted as if it were their God-given right to order him around, let alone... let alone a beautiful woman pleading him to stay. It was too much, he couldn't fight it in the name of what was right. He felt a sudden urge to say her name, to taste it and let it roll on his tongue.

"Hermione."

She looked up in understanding. His name was like a prayer on her lips, making him tremble.

"Severus."

And he was lost. Lost in her arms, her kisses, lost in her. And Gods helped him if he ever wanted to be found.

Hermione's reasoning had left her quite some time ago, if it had been with her at all during that night. All she could think of was that it was right. It felt right, he felt right. And when, amidst kisses and tears, she led him to her bedroom, she was certain she wouldn't regret it in the morning.

---

Severus awoke first, quickly grabbing his wand as his instincts kicked in and he realised he was in unfamiliar surroundings. Then he opened his eyes and everything came back to him. Hermione. Hermione, knocking him down, laughing with and not at him, offering him a place to spend Christmas. And then offering him so much more... he fought the urge to be sick. He had left Hogwarts not to be pitied, and yet he had allowed her to give herself to him out of pity... what other reason could there be? He had taken a pity fuck from - no, scratch that, he had taken advantage of - a drunken, distressed eighteen year-old former student on Christmas. 'Gods, Severus, you could have sunk no lower.'

The walls closing in on him, he could stay there no longer. With a flick of his wand he was dressed; the second flick took him to the Hogwarts' Gates, where he practically ran to the solitude of his dungeons, disgusted with himself. And still there was a treacherous part of him that wanted nothing more than to go back and take whatever she was still willing to offer, pity or no pity. He knew he would never be able to forget her, and he was in no fit state to try. Although it was only eight o'clock on Christmas morning, Severus bolted for his nightstand and grasped a vial of Dreamless Sleep. Christmas Eve was still too raw for him to deal with. Gratefully closing his eyes, he was asleep in a second.

I gave it all, I took it back

And in the end there's nothing left except a shell surrounding

Emptiness and loneliness, a core of pain

I feel my pathway shining

So I lay me down to lie

And with the rain my lullaby

I drift away to Dreamless Sleep

Leave behind a life that died

A victim of a plague of ghosts

I was wrapped up in my guilt

Buried deep within my memories

A shelter of self-pity that I know the rain will wash away

I sense the storm arriving

---

It had been almost a month since Hermione had felt so good in the morning. She stretched in her bed, trying to understand why she felt that way. The she remembered. Severus. Her former professor, the 'greasy git', the Head of Slytherin and former Death Eater himself. The unfair bastard that made Potions Hell. The tender lover in whose arms she had spent the night, the fiercely passionate man she had discovered inside the hardened shell. A contented smile played on her lips and she reached a hand to where she knew he would be. Except he wasn't. For the briefest of instants after having opened her eyes she harboured a tiny hope that he might have just gone to the bathroom; and yet when she called out his name she already knew there would be no answer.

Tears came to her eyes unbidden. Of course he had left, what did she expect? He had wanted to go the night before, she was the one who had almost begged him to stay. And he had pitied her too much to refuse. How could she have done it, how could she have thrown herself at him like that? She had thought he would make a wonderful friend, why had she ruined it? Gods, how he must have felt! Realising he had shagged his former student - and a mudblood at that - and that he was still in her bed. That he was still in bed with someone he more than likely perceived as a kid... He had made her Christmas worthwhile and she had repaid him by throwing herself at him.

And yet... he had seemed to want her... had she imagined the look in his eyes, the desire he had appeared to be feeling? Well, obviously, Granger, or he wouldn't have left. Had she really been that bad? She didn't want to think about it anymore. Actually, what was there to think about? It had been a one-night stand, it had been good and it was over. Nothing more and nothing less. Really nothing to think about. Returning to her bed, Hermione pulled the covers and hid on Christmas Day.