A Christmas Nightmare

5. THE END OF IT

Every single part of his body was stiff and hurting when Snape woke up. No surprise there - he had spent the night in his old armchair. The living room was cold now that the fire had gone out. Snape felt old and weary and disoriented. There had been strange dreams...As he stretched to get the pain out of his back, a thin book dropped to the floor. A Christmas Carol was the title on the cover. Snape froze and gave it a long calculating look.

'A Christmas Nightmare' would be more appropriate, he thought. A house-elf as a Christmas Spirit - and Hagrid! Oh well, rather embarrassing than scary, if we exclude the Dementor, and yet... He remembered Regulus' 'ghost' and swore. You will pay for this, Albus. I've got two weeks without students to think about payback. Two full weeks.

Did he really? Enchanted books like this were often tricky. Who said he didn't sleep and dream through the holidays?

Snape patted his robes, searching for his wand. He pointed towards the wall.

"Tempus appareat!"

The transparent image of an old ceramic kitchen clock suddenly hung in midair. The clock kept him waiting for almost a full minute, then announced in a tinny voice: "Now it is ... rattle Friday...December the...rattle 23^th...half past...two. Rattle. Pm. Rattle. First day ... of rattle tstmas rattle holidays. Rattle ...clonk." One of the clock's fingers had come off. Snape absently waved his wand in the general direction of the clock and let it vanish.

Half past two. So he had missed the departure of the pupils. Good, he thought. For once I won't have to make up an excuse why I didn't wave them goodbye with a tearstained hanky, like Mama Sprout. I should do something about my time announcer, though. Maybe get a contract with that Quicktime fairies...

Later, he decided. First he had to take a shower. And return a certain book.

"Ah, it's you, Severus. Long night, eh?"

Albus Dumbledore chuckled. He had added some golden lametta to the pink one that was already woven into his beard. "We missed you at the departure. Please, sit down. What can I do for you?"

Snape reached into his pocket and carefully pulled out the book. He was wearing gloves. Won't give the damn thing an other chance, he had thought. Better safe then sorry.

"I believe you forgot it in my office yesterday, sir."

"Yes...I have already been wondering where I could have possibly left it. Did you read it?"

Snape didn't hesitate. "No."

"Oh. What a shame - this is one of my favourites, and perfectly fitting as a Christmas lec-ture." Dumbledore fondly patted the faded cover and seemed to be looking through Snape.

"Of course, this one is a rather special copy. It was enchanted, you know, to give the rather old story a more personal touch for each reader." His shining blue eyes focused on Snape again. "Maybe you want to ke it for another day, and read a little?"

Personal touch! Snape suspected that the headmaster knew of his dreams. He had, however, no intention to talk about them.

"Thank you, sir, but there are five classes worth of essays waiting in my office. I want all of them corrected by the end of the holidays. I've got enough reading material, I'm afraid."

He hoped he had given a convincing show of polite regret.

"Yes. Well, then...I suppose I cannot covince you that we all would welcome you much on the Christmas dinner? I think some of the younger members of the Order have also prepared a little feast." Dumbledore was smiling again.

Snape bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying something he later would regret.

"No, Albus. I will be most content if I can enjoy the quiet time of Christmas in privacy. Now, as I said before, I have some work to do. Sir."

"Certainly, Severus, certainly. And thank you for the book, of course."

As he walked down the corridors - wonderful silent corridors, finally freed of the thoughtless, chattering crowd of pupils - Snape congratulated himself. He knew that Dumbledore hadn't believed him for a second, but as long as Snape didn't mention the nightmares, the head-master wouldn't bring up the subject either. He was simply too polite, unlike Snape himself. He smirked and set his mind to the difficult task of creating various scenarios of revenge. Actually, two weeks are pretty short for coming up with a proper method, even for a mind as inventive as mine. And not to forget all the essays in my office...it will take me several evenings for each class - evenings I ... Damn. He had forgotten the ten evenings of detention he had given to the Weasley boy. Oh well. That one believes everything. I will inform him that they are cancelled due to McGonnagall's interference.

Snape almost turned round for the staircase leading to the owlery, then changed his mind again. Why hurry? Monday evening, when all the pupils were back, would be soon enough.

It surely wouldn't hurt to give the boy two weeks to worry about the amount of work waiting for him. Snape decided Dumbledore had been right about one thing after all:

Everybody gets what he deserves.

THE END