The Great Hogwarts Christmas Gift Exchange Debacle of 1996

~The Great Hogwarts Christmas Gift Exchange Debacle of 1996~

Part 2 of 5: December 23

Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Luna arrived by Portkey at number twelve, Grimmauld Place late the next morning. Lupin immediately showed them to the guest wing to make themselves comfortable, assigning them to various spare bedrooms - Harry and Ron halfway down the corridor on the right, Ginny and Luna a bit further on, towards the back staircase, Hermione alone in one of the smaller rooms on the left. He was careful to keep them away from Snape's room - he still felt guilty about insisting that Snape not share the master suite with him while the kids were in the house, so as consolation, the least he could do was ensure the man was as far from Harry and Ron's games of Exploding Snap as possible.

After a light lunch of tea and sandwiches, the group assembled in the front parlour at Lupin's behest.

"Professor Dumbledore has hinted that he'll be stopping by this afternoon to set up some sort of... er- entertainment for us this week," he told them. "Nothing too frightening, I hope," he added, smiling indulgently at the wary teenagers. "Usually it's something quite harmless, like a Secret Santa exchange."

Ron made a face. "A Secret Santa thing?" He scowled at Lupin and slumped back against the sofa. "If I get Snape, I'm going back to the Burrow."

Lupin laughed. "If you get Professor Snape, Ron," he said in an amused but lightly warning tone, "you will conjure a lovely gift for him, just as you would for any of the rest of us."

"That's quite all right, Lupin." A low, smooth voice filled the room suddenly as a new figure appeared at the door. "If Weasley is that keen on leaving us to celebrate Christmas without him, I certainly won't go out of my way to change his mind."

A warm smile spread across Lupin's face before he even turned around. "Severus," he said slowly, drawing the word out in tones that would not necessarily have sounded flirtatious to the kids, but would have conveyed a multitude of promises to the man at the door. "So glad you could join us." He turned then and let his eyes take in the black-robed form in the doorway, his heart suddenly beating faster. Room full of teenage wards or no, that man could inspire the most utterly inappropriate desires in him.

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," Snape drawled in a bored voice, surveying the group in the parlour. His lip curled into a sneer when his gaze landed on Harry, who, Lupin noted, returned the loathing glare with equal intensity. Finally Snape's eyes came to rest on Lupin, and stayed there much longer than they should have. He pursed his lips in the barest of knowing smiles, then headed for the liquor cabinet.

Damn it, Lupin thought sadly, trying to remind himself why, exactly, he had thought it would be such a good idea for Snape to have a separate bedroom while the kids were in the house. He watched as Snape poured himself a Scotch, and almost laughed out loud at the realisation that he too was going to need a great deal of booze over the holidays if he was to forget his blasted vow to keep his hands off Snape.

But his self-pitying musings were interrupted by the arrival of a second new voice, much older and cheerier than the first.

"Oh good, good, splendid - everyone's here, then?" Dumbledore stepped into the room and cast a knowing smile over its occupants.

"I think we've got them all, Albus," Lupin called. "All those who wanted to come, at any rate."

"Well, the rest of the Order certainly wanted to come, Remus, but I'm afraid that there are some other tasks that require their attention." He gave Lupin a significant look, then let his gaze fall on Harry for a brief moment.

Lupin sighed. Yes, he knew that well enough. Dumbledore was becoming increasingly convinced that Hogwarts was not as safe for Harry as it should be - as it used to be. None of them could pinpoint what had happened, but after the events of the year before, when Voldemort had managed to get inside Harry's head and flash him the most horrific images while the boy was at Hogwarts... well, there were a great many questions that still needed answering.

Dumbledore didn't want him staying at the school this Christmas, not while Shacklebolt and the Aurors had such important raids to carry out against some of Harry's worst enemies. They had decided that the best location for him would be Grimmauld Place, with his friends. Molly and Arthur had agreed to send Ron and Ginny to keep him company (and truth be told, Lupin suspected that the two of them were grateful to have some much-needed time alone with Percy, to attempt to reforge that relationship). Hermione had come as well, of course, and Ginny had invited her friend, Luna.

Lupin and Snape, meanwhile, had been charged with the task of keeping Harry and the others safe over the holidays. Severus, as one could imagine, had been decidedly less than thrilled with the arrangement, grumbling for weeks about having much more important things to do, like watch paint dry, for instance. Well, Lupin thought with a smirk, he would simply have to make it worth the man's time. Maybe there would be ways around that separate-bedrooms business, after all.

"That's all right, sir," Hermione piped up from across the room. "The lot of us are happy enough here." Lupin was so wrapped up in his renewed thoughts about the Potions Master that he didn't notice Hermione's eyes settling on him as she spoke.

Dumbledore also pretended not to notice. He clapped his hands together, then patted his robes in search of something. "Well," he began enthusiastically, that knowing twinkle firmly lodged in his eyes, "since you are all away from the usual festivities at Hogwarts this year, I thought I might instigate some entertainment for you here."

Snape snorted and made a face, tossing the amber contents of his glass down his throat and rising from his chair by the fireplace. "In that case," he said icily, "I believe I am needed elsewhere."

"Nonsense, Severus," said Dumbledore warmly. "I think even you might enjoy this."

Lupin stifled a chuckle as he heard Ron on the sofa whisper to Harry in a sudden panic, "Please don't make him be Santa Claus, please don't make him be Santa Claus, please don't - "

Harry elbowed him in the ribs, and Ron yelped and fell silent.

"What is it, sir?" Ginny rested her hand on her chin eagerly, eyeing the Headmaster.

Dumbledore continued to search his robes, finally reaching into a hidden side pocket and locating his target. He produced a long, cylindrical object about the size of his forearm, wrapped in red crepe paper, the ends tied off with golden ribbons.

Luna eyed it suspiciously. "Oh," she said, slight disappointment colouring her tone. "A Gryffindor sort of 'entertainment'?"

Snape looked over at her in some surprise, then smirked.

"No, my dear, not quite." Dumbledore chuckled. "Gryffindors shouldn't have any advantage here, despite the coincidental colours. The Christmas Cracker is quite impartial when it comes to the school Houses."

Lupin and Snape's brows furrowed simultaneously in sudden recognition of the object before them, while Luna's eyes narrowed in uncertain contemplation. The others looked utterly confused.

"Oh, Albus," Lupin began, "do we have to? That thing is a bit - " He fell silent and grimaced as Dumbledore shot him a look. But his protest had only ignited the curiosity of the teenagers.

"What is it?" Ron asked eagerly. "What's a Christmas Cracker?"

The cylinder sprang to life at the question, leaping out of Dumbledore's hand and onto the coffee table in the centre of the room. "I'm a Christmas Cracker!" it hollered, hopping up and down on one of its ends, a small tear appearing in the ribbon at the top end to mimic a mouth.

Lupin put a hand over his face in horror and winced, silently cursing Dumbledore. Oh yes, he'd seen this bloody thing before, and it was one time too many - as far as meddling anthropomorphic objects at Hogwarts were concerned, this thing made that wretched Sorting Hat look as benign as a loaf of bread. He chanced a peek through his fingers to find Ron poking at the Cracker with his wand.

"Trying to get fresh, are we?!" the Cracker shouted in outrage, jumping out of Ron's reach. "Well, I never!"

"Do you sing?" Harry asked, sitting forward on the sofa.

The Cracker whirled around to face him, and Lupin felt quite certain that if it had possessed hands, they would be placed firmly on its hips. "Sing?" it cried. "No, I don't sing." The mouth turned to Dumbledore. "Honestly, Albus, do I have to put up with such questions?"

Dumbledore chuckled and plucked the Cracker up from the table, clutching it firmly in his palm to keep it quiet. "Quite the little sprite, isn't it?" He glanced at Harry and winked.

Luna suddenly let out a very bored-sounding, dramatic sigh and fell back against her chair. "I suppose that thing is going to tell us who we most want to give a gift to this year, and what the gift should be, right?" Her wide blue eyes looked intensely at Dumbledore as the other six heads in the room swivelled towards her in surprise.

Dumbledore smiled at her indulgently. "Ah, Ms. Lovegood, as usual, you do your House proud. You are correct - that is indeed the purpose of the Christmas Cracker."

"Who we most want to...?" Hermione repeated, frowning. "But that's very subjective, isn't it, sir? What if the same person ends up with six gifts, and everyone else nothing? Wouldn't it be more logical to set up a proper exchange, so that each person is assigned another person to whom - "

"My dear." Dumbledore held up his hand. "Christmas is never logical."

She clamped her mouth shut and looked at him in disbelief.

"I think you will all agree," he continued pleasantly, "that this holiday should not only be about gifts of the material kind. Neither I nor the Cracker expects you to go out and actually purchase anything. For some of you, this will already have happened - in which case the Cracker will likely simply discuss your gift with you. If you have not yet purchased any, keep in mind that not all gifts are material goods, and the Cracker will remind you of that as well. There are many types of gifts that one can present to a loved one at Christmas, remember." He paused and cast a knowing glance around the room.

Lupin followed his eyes. Harry and Ron were looking rather dumbstruck on the sofa; Hermione remained perturbed that her much more rational idea had been disregarded; Ginny seemed quite intrigued, and Luna just looked bored. Snape, as could be expected, was looking as though he wished very much that he could pinpoint the exact moment in his life when the road had forked and he had chosen the path that had led him here - and go back to take the other.

"Because of the rather untraditional nature of this gift exchange," Dumbledore continued as Lupin returned his gaze to the old wizard, "I would discourage you from appointing any particular moment for gift-giving. In many cases, the gifts one presents to another are very private affairs. Thus, I will decree only that all gifts be presented, in whatever form they take, by midnight on Christmas Day."

"Unhand me, you devil!" The Cracker had evidently become tired of biding its time in Dumbledore's hand, and began to wriggle in exasperation. "On with it! I haven't all day here, you know. It's a very busy time of year for us Crackers..."

Chuckling again, Dumbledore took the Cracker and left the room for a moment.

When he returned, he smiled brightly at the group. "Very good! The Cracker has been set up at the kitchen table. All you need to do is pull the ends of it, the way you would with a regular cracker, and your private consultation shall begin. Leave it where it is when you are done; it will prepare itself for the next person. Any questions?"

Just one, thought Lupin miserably. How the hell do we get you to stop being such a well-meaning, but nonetheless outrageously interfering old sod?

*********************************************

One at a time, they each ventured uncertainly into the kitchen for their private chat with the Cracker. The others, in the main sitting room, would hear a loud crack and sometimes a shriek, if the noise caught the person unawares, then there would be silence. Upon returning to the others with soot-covered hands and a rather dazed look on his or her face, the person would then usher in the next poor soul to repeat the routine.

When Lupin emerged, Snape gave him a questioning look from the far end of the sitting room, where he stood against a bookshelf, arms folded across his chest.

"In you go, Luna," Lupin called with a smile, nodding towards the kitchen, then he shook his head and sidled up to Snape, assuming the same stance as the other man as he assessed the quiet conversations among the others in the room. "Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot or not," he whispered, "that old man's a bloody menace, with these infernal games of his."

Snape gave a silent snort. "And he knows entirely more than he should about... things," he agreed.

Lupin glanced over at him. "Like what?" he asked, his voice tinged with alarm.

But Snape just shook his head and continued staring down the teenagers on the other side of the room. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Lupin," he answered casually, pausing in his survey of the parlour to cast a smouldering glance at his lover.

Lupin met his eyes and held the other man's passionate gaze, a smile touching his lips. "Everything about you concerns me," he purred in Snape's ear, suddenly wanting more than anything to dart his tongue out and run it up Snape's throat in a long, leisurely lick. He bit his lip.

"You think so?" continued Snape, dropping his voice to match Lupin's.

"Mm-hmm." Lupin nodded, watching as Luna emerged from the kitchen and was immediately surrounded by Ginny and Hermione, asking her what the Cracker had told her. A wicked idea suddenly occurred to him, and he inclined his head slightly towards Snape, his eyes focused straight ahead, at the others in the room. "I want to taste you," he said softly. "Everywhere. Right now."

Snape's breath quickened, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he too stared straight ahead, his face like granite, but his eyes fogged with lust.

"Dad told me not to trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain," Ginny muttered to Luna, after sharing what appeared to be her own less-than-satisfying conversation with the Cracker. The kids laughed and gathered around her, consoling her with their own tales.

Snape took advantage of their distraction to lean imperceptibly closer to Lupin. "Then do it," he challenged.

"Patience, Severus," Lupin whispered. "You wouldn't want it to be over too quickly, would you?" His fingers clutched at the elbows of his folded arms as they stood together, to all the world like colleagues barely on speaking terms with each other, making forced small talk in the middle of a children's Christmas party.

But Snape met him head-on. "It wouldn't be," he assured him. "I'd let you draw it out, nice and slow, until you thought you could break me with one more lick. But I'd surprise you, Lupin. I can last a very, very long time when engaged in such enjoyable activities." He leaned in closer, his voice like liquid silk. "Very, very long..." he purred.

Lupin had to physically bring a hand up to his mouth and bite on a knuckle to keep from moaning. "Long," he repeated, almost whimpering now. "And hard?"

"So hard," confirmed Snape, still outwardly stone-faced and unaffected by their game, though Lupin was quickly becoming a puddle of quivering drool against the bookshelf.

"Well, that looks to be everyone!" The sound of Dumbledore's voice and his hands clapping together in finality broke the trance, and Lupin sprang away from Snape, darting a meaningful glance at him over his shoulder. "Now," Dumbledore continued, his twinkling blue eyes surveying the room from behind his half-moon spectacles, "it would of course be best if you all refrained from revealing to one another the nature of your conversation with the Cracker."

"I've got a conversation with a cracker I can tell you about right now," Lupin heard Ron whisper to Harry, and he almost snorted as Ron rolled his eyes and flicked his head imperceptibly towards Dumbledore.

Harry guffawed, quickly covering his mouth with his hand as Snape shot him a deadly look from across the room.

"All will be revealed in time, I'm quite sure. Now, I'll leave you to get to work on your gifts, shall I?" Dumbledore smiled indulgently at Snape and Lupin in turn, then nodded to the kids. "Happy Christmas to all, then." He headed towards the front door but betrayed no signs of actually using it, as the only sound the parlour occupants heard of his departure was a soft pop.

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"Ah, boys, there you are." Lupin turned and smiled at Harry and Ron as they entered the kitchen later that afternoon. "Fresh batch of Festive Cheer, just about ready. Grab a couple of glasses, why don't you?"

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Festive Cheer?" He peered over Lupin's shoulder at the contents of the blender, then turned and whispered to Harry, "Who knew? It is a bad cocktail."

"Not to worry, Ron, I can't have Dumbledore stopping by and finding the lot of you passed out drunk - the minors in this house are getting the virgin variety."

"Thanks for rubbing it in," Ron muttered to Harry, who covered his mouth to stifle a laugh.

Lupin ignored that, taking the glasses Ron had handed him and beginning to fill them with pink frothy liquid.

"Uh, Remus," Ron asked tentatively, "what's in that stuff? Er- the virgin variety, that is?"

Lupin shot him a look, then kept pouring. "Pineapple juice, orange juice, cranberry juice, ginger ale, and just a hint of maraschino cherry nectar."

Harry made a face. "Sounds like it's for two-year-olds."

"Oh no, Harry, definitely not. Sirius invented it when we were back at school - er, I mean, when we were well over eighteen - " he smiled slightly to himself - "and the secret ingredient is a shot of firewhiskey."

Ron suddenly looked much more interested. "Really?"

"Yep. You can barely taste it with all that sweet stuff, but believe me, it is powerful. Oh, the Christmas parties your grandparents used to throw, Harry, when Sirius lived with them. He and James would whip up a batch of Festive Cheer and watch the elderly relations get drunk off their rockers, thinking they were just tossing back juice." He paused to laugh out loud, staring wistfully across the room at nothing in particular. "I joined in a few of them, when my parents would let me. Those were some of my happiest Christmases, you know."

He trained his gaze back on the boys, reaching out to hand them each a drink, but Harry's arms remained firmly at his sides.

"No thanks, Remus," he said in a quiet but unmistakably bitter voice. "I'm not really thirsty."

Lupin's face fell. "Oh," he said, feigning nonchalance. "Sure, Harry, no problem. I'll just leave it here, in case you want some later, hmm?" He forced a smile and placed the glass on the counter.

Ron quickly grabbed his tumbler out of Lupin's other hand and took a deep gulp. "Oh yeah, it's good, Remus," he enthused, his eyes darting between Lupin and Harry. "Good old Festive Cheer." He drained the glass and let out a satisfied sigh.

Lupin gave him a half-smile and clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, boys, why don't we go see what sort of damage the girls have done with the decorating?" He followed them out of the kitchen, pausing briefly at the door to glance back at the lonely drink sitting on the counter, and a streak of blinding grief shot through him. A second later, it was gone.

*********************************************

The damage the girls had managed to do with the decorating, it turned out, was considerable.

"Oh, Professor Lupin, I'm sorry!" Ginny moaned as Lupin, Harry, and Ron entered the parlour, their eyes wide as they took in the scene.

"Ginny!" Lupin sputtered, his mouth agape. "What happened?!" The parlour was in complete turmoil - chairs overturned, tables broken, bookshelves upended and their contents strewn all over the floor.

"Careful, she's coming back this way!" screeched Hermione, racing in from the corridor and attempting to slam the door closed behind her. Luna and Ginny ran over to help her.

"Hermione! What's going on- who's out there?" Lupin was rapidly regretting having ever agreed to play parent to five teenagers, even if only for a few days. Barely one day in, he had apparently already completely lost control of the situation.

But Hermione wasn't quick enough - though even if she had been, the great towering figure that burst through the doorway likely could have knocked the door over with one push of a finger.

"Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!" The girls and Ron started screaming in terror, while Harry and Lupin quickly reached for their wands.

"Stupefy!" they yelled in unison, and the mammoth form stopped in its tracks before it could tear the door off its hinges. It fell to the floor with a great thud, the group in the parlour scrambling out of the way.

"You let a troll in, Ginny?" Ron hollered. "What the hell were you thinking?!"

Ginny was cowering under an overturned table, shaking with fear. "It's not- not- "

"It's not a troll, Ron," Lupin finished, stepping forward carefully to examine the creature.

"We tried to Stun it, Professor, but we must not have been strong enough," Hermione explained, biting at her fingernails and peering apprehensively at Lupin.

"That's all right, Hermione - a beast this size would certainly take more force than the three of you could conjure, and that's no slight against your skills." He crouched down and took a good look at the unconscious being on his sitting room floor.

It was female, certainly, and a beautiful female at that. Long blonde ringlets framed a cherubic face with rosy cheeks and dark lashes. She wore a brilliant white satin gown that covered her from neck to ankle, and on her back, now slightly crumpled after her fall, were a pair of exquisitely embroidered wings. She looked oddly familiar.

Lupin rose and scanned the room again. "Ginny," he asked slowly. "Where's the Christmas tree?"

She crawled forward and plucked a small object from where it had rolled under a sofa cushion, then handed it to Lupin. It was the tree, shrunk to the size of his palm. He glanced back and forth between the Stunned creature on his floor and the miniature tree in his hand, adding up all the possibilities, then broke into a grin.

"OK," he said to the girls, a curious gleam in his eyes. "You'd better tell me what happened."

Nobody spoke for a moment, Ginny still apparently in shock, and Luna too entranced by the figure on the floor. Finally, Hermione piped up. "We- we were just trying to put the angel on top of the tree, Professor," she began timidly, glancing at Ginny. "And we just thought we'd try to levitate her up there, you know, and - "

"No," Ginny cut in wearily, rising from the floor at last. "There was no 'we', Professor, it was my fault. And I know how to levitate things!" She shot a glare at Hermione, who just shrugged meekly. "I saw Professor McGonagall do this thing in the Great Hall when we were decorating there the other day - she made the angel sort of come alive and float up to the top of the tree, made it dance around up there, and it was really neat..."

Lupin glanced back at the troll-sized angel on his floor and chuckled. "Aaaand, so you thought you would try that here?"

Ginny nodded, her eyes on the floor. "I'm sorry, Professor! I thought I heard what charm Professor McGonagall used, but I guess I got it wrong..."

"I'll say," Ron cried. "That thing could have eaten us for dinner!"

She ignored this, though her face flushed. "Somehow it reversed them, so that the tree was on top of the angel instead of the other way around," she continued, feeling more confident now that the rampaging angel had been Stunned. "And then she just sort of... came alive."

"Do you think she's hurt?" Luna said suddenly, gazing at the angel.

Lupin smiled gently at her. "Um, no, I think she'll be OK. She's not really alive, anyway - just a Charmed object." He straightened and looked at them all expectantly. "Well, class," he joked, "why don't we practice our cleaning and repair spells for awhile, hmm?" He waved his wand and in a flash of light, the angel reappeared on the floor at its original ornament size. "You should be able to handle the rest, I take it?"

The kids glanced around the room with a collective sigh, then reluctantly starting pulling out their wands.

*********************************************

Leaving the group to clean up the parlour, Lupin retreated to his bedroom for a much-needed reprieve. His face broke into an amused expression as he realised the room was already occupied, and he quickly closed the door behind him, muttering a strong locking spell.

Snape was lying flat on his back on the bed, still as a corpse, his hands folded neatly across his chest.

"You know, for someone who denies those vampire rumours so vehemently, you certainly do nothing to help your case," Lupin pointed out, leaning against the door and watching the man on the bed.

Snape neither opened his eyes nor moved a muscle. "And for someone who claims to be a professional teacher," he muttered, "you certainly allow an appalling quantity of loud, childish games among the students visiting your house. An Exploding Snap tournament you've no doubt organised?" He opened his eyes at last.

"Ah yes, you and your infernal headaches," Lupin drawled, sauntering over to the bed. "Didn't you ever play Exploding Snap as a kid, Severus? It's really not a bad game. See, you have to - " His enthusiastic explanation died on his lips as Snape opened his eyes again and shot him a murderous glare.

" 'Exploding Snap'? You are actually allowing those wretched brats to play a game with the word 'exploding' in the title?"

"No, in fact it was Voldemort - he dropped by to kill Harry in a very noisy fashion, you know, as a special Christmas treat to himself. So good of you to come down and help us out when you heard the commotion."

A smile tugged at Snape's lips. "Not at all. I assume the boy has managed to live, yet again?"

"Naturally."

Snape closed his eyes. "Exploding Snap," he repeated. "Ridiculous. Sounded like Weasley had blown up the sitting room."

"Well, actually, that is the more accurate version of events..." Lupin sat down on the edge of the bed and reached a hand out to trace against Snape's thigh. "Poor Severus," he continued, in a softly mocking voice.

Snape turned and glared, his features like ice.

"Are you sure you're not just jealous that they didn't ask you to play?"

Snape snorted. "Oh, honestly, Lupin. I think you should know by now that I don't play games."

"Mmm," Lupin mused, his hand becoming more insistent in its exploration of the other man's leg. "So you say. But I wonder if I couldn't change your mind?" He let his fingers trail lightly to the inseam of Snape's trousers.

Snape quirked an interested eyebrow and shifted discreetly, moving his legs ever so slightly apart. "I don't play games, Lupin," he repeated, but his tone was low and husky.

"I think you'll play this one with me," Lupin insisted softly. "Besides, you've decided to do your napping - quite inappropriately, I might add - on my bed rather than yours. That makes you fair game for me."

"You piqued my interest earlier," Snape murmured, propping himself up on his elbows and gazing down his body at Lupin. "I can't be expected to maintain inhuman levels of resistance to you, can I? Now, what was that about tasting me... everywhere?"

"You didn't seem all that interested at the time," teased Lupin in a low voice, pulling his shirt over his head and climbing onto the bed, casting a predatory gaze at Snape.

"Oh, I was interested," whispered Snape. "I've been interested all fucking afternoon because of you..."

Lupin felt his pulse quicken and his veins thrum as they always did when he was this close to Snape. He'd spent the better part of a year convincing himself that this was a perfectly normal physical reaction to the astonishingly good sex they had on a regular basis... but he knew now that it was more than that, much more. Sex with Snape wasn't just about bodies anymore... sex with Snape was about diving into the very depths of the ocean and coming out of it shattered and gasping for air, but a better man for it - and a man desperate to do it again and again, forever.

He couldn't actually tell Snape that, of course, lest it ruin the precarious balance they'd silently agreed on in their relationship - spectacular sex, sometimes even a few laughs over a decent bottle of Scotch, in exchange for no discussion of emotional attachment. A cheap blow job on the sly, while the kids were busy downstairs... this wasn't what he wanted, this wasn't enough.

But when he raised his eyes to Snape's, he found that familiar flush of arousal on the man's usually pale face, heard that normally steady breathing quicken in anticipation, and he knew that he would never be able to demand more than this from him - just like he'd never be able to walk away from it.

He reached aggressively for Snape's waistband and lowered his head.

*********************************************

After pitching in to help clean up the wreckage wrought by the rampaging angel, Hermione sneaked back up to her room and pulled a very special gift out from under her mattress. Smiling mischievously to herself, she finished her wrapping and quietly tip-toed down to the library while the others resumed decorating the tree in the parlour. She crept over to the grand mahogany desk at the far end of the room and placed her package squarely in the middle of it, moving a couple of quills and inkwells out of the way to make room. Then, she arranged the gilt-edged envelope on top of the package and stood back to admire her work. Her handwriting danced across the front of it, seeming to wink at the recipient and cajole him into opening it, the sweeping black ink forming the letters perfectly -

~~ For my favourite Professor ~~

She giggled to herself as she headed to the door. It was terribly naughty of her, she knew, to have written what she did in that letter and still insist on calling Remus 'Professor,' but it also gave her a little thrill. If all went according to plan, she was going to be a very different girl - no, woman - when she woke up on Christmas morning.

As she joined the others in the parlour, accepting a glass of punch from Ginny, her mind drifted back to the image of Remus reaching for his wand and in one swift, graceful movement, felling that giant angel with the powerful force of his magic. He was such a great wizard, so strong but still so humble... She thought again of that package and the letter she had written him, sitting in the library waiting to be opened, and congratulated herself on her cleverness.

She could hardly wait to see his reaction.

*********************************************

"Mmm, all right, Lupin, you win. You may finally have hit on a game that I will consent to play."

"And, further," Lupin pressed, "that you like to play."

Snape smirked. "Indeed. I can't deny it." He cast a mischievous look at Lupin. "What did you say it was called, again?"

Lupin could barely get the words out, from the grin spreading across his face. "Why, 'Exploding Snape,' naturally."

Snape squeezed his eyes shut and groaned into his pillow. "That's truly awful - you do know that, right?"

Lupin settled in next to Snape's warm body, his palm placed protectively over the other man's still-heaving chest. "My puns are nothing less than clever and inspired," he pronounced solemnly.

"No," Snape shook his head across the pillow sadly. "I'm afraid whoever told you that has been feeding you a pack of lies. Come on, I don't suppose you want us caught up here together."

He started to rise, but Lupin pushed gently down on his chest. "In a minute, hmm?" he whispered. "Just... stay here for another minute."

Snape settled himself back against the pillows and placed his own hand over Lupin's, squeezing gently. As long as you want, love, he said in his head.

As long as you want.

*********************************************

When Snape finally managed to untangle himself from Lupin, he slipped out of the master bedroom and headed back to his own small guest room. But halfway there, he heard the unmistakable sounds of more fucking Exploding Snap coming from another bedroom down the corridor. Suppressing a grin at the memory of Lupin's version of the game, he turned abruptly on his heel and glided down the stairs. He still had to work on his speech, to figure out what the hell he was going to say to Lupin when he gave him that... gift he'd planned. If there was no peace to be found in his own bloody bedroom, he thought wearily, surely those blasted children wouldn't be anywhere near the library during their school holidays.

He found the library pleasantly empty, as expected, and quickly fell into the high-backed chair behind the desk, settling a hand over his face. He let out a sigh as he resumed his contemplation of the madness that had led him to decide that proposing to Remus would be a fabulous Christmas present. He hadn't had this much trepidation about joining the bloody Death Eaters - why on earth was he so nervous about this?

He lifted his hand to run it through his hair, and at that moment noticed, for the first time, a neatly wrapped package on the desk in front of him.

"For my favourite Professor," the card on top of the package read. He frowned. One of these children had left him a sodding gift? Here? Today? It was still two days before Christmas. He recalled what Dumbledore had said - that gifts could be given any time before midnight on the twenty-fifth... but surely none of the students in this house had a burning desire to present any such gift to him.

He glanced at the package again. There was no way he was anyone's favourite professor - if he was, then his carefully orchestrated reign of intimidation and terror in the classroom over the past fifteen years had failed miserably. But there weren't any other "professors" in this house. Lupin certainly didn't count. Oh, sure, those blasted children insisted on calling him "Professor Lupin" at times, but that was only out of habit, or possibly stupidity. He hadn't taught at Hogwarts for nearly three years - and children have notoriously short memories.

No, there was only one person for whom this gift was intended. Sighing dramatically, he reached for the envelope and carefully unsealed it. Might as well get this over with, he thought glumly.

*********************************************

Professor,

I know this gift may be a bit unexpected, and you may think it's more elaborate than you deserve, but before you can say any of those things, I just want you to know how much your kindness has meant to me over the years, especially this past one. I have learned so much from you, from your vast collection of knowledge... I really feel like we know each other, like we understand each other. I've given this a lot of thought, and I'm of legal age now - I'm considered an adult who can make my own decisions... and what I've decided is that - I love you.

There, I've said it. You may think me a foolish girl with a crush, but I assure you that I am much older than my years, and what I feel for you is genuine. We have so much in common! I truly believe that you are the man for me, and I know that you are the only one I want. If you feel the same, come to my room on Christmas Eve. Let me show you how I feel about you; I can be anything you want me to be.

Happy Christmas, love. This book is only a token. Your real present will come tomorrow night, if you want it.

Yours,

Hermione

*********************************************

His jaw agape in absolute horror, Severus Snape stood staring at the letter. Hermione Granger? In love with... him? It was preposterous! He felt his stomach roll over. The idiot girl! Foolish crush, indeed - he'd show her just how foolish she was being. Someone must have put her up to this, he thought angrily. Probably Potter and Weasley, trying to make a fool out of him - or worse, to set him up with the girl in a compromising position and get him fired. He dropped the letter onto the desk and stormed around the library, fuming.

But Granger didn't idly take orders from Potter and Weasley, he reasoned after a moment. No, if anything, she was the one calling the shots in that circle of idiot friends; surely those boys did not dare a trip to the loo without her permission. They would never have conned her into this. What, then, was the explanation?

The bile rose in his throat again as he tried to suppress the only plausible one: she actually meant this. This letter, this gift, this invitation to defile her the following evening - she was serious. He shuddered at the thought and quickly sat down in one of the room's great armchairs before he fell over, cradling his head in his hands. Of all the things he needed this holiday season, he thought bitterly, a chat with a hormonal teenager about how it would never work between them was not at the top of his list.

After allowing himself a moment of self-pity, he glanced back at the package still sitting on the desk and sighed again. Well, he might as well open it and know exactly what he was dealing with here, before confronting the girl. He returned to the desk and picked up the gift - a book, according to her letter. It was wrapped in a smooth, glittering paper of royal blue tones, with no bows, ribbons, or other frivolities. Well, Snape thought, at least the girl had decent taste in wrapping paper.

He tore the paper away and found a gilded, hardcover book in his hands. It really was beautiful - a reissued version of an old classic, it seemed. Snape ran his fingers over the smooth spine in appreciation, then opened to the title page.

Frankenstein

by Mary Shelley

His face could not have contorted itself into a more pained expression of incredulity and distaste had a family of Blast-Ended Skrewts just paraded through the room. Another note fell from the opening pages, and Snape continued to stare, horror-struck.

I know, I know, maybe the whole 'the monster within'

trope is a bit obvious for you, but still, it's one of

my favourite books, so I thought you might like it.

Happy Christmas with love,

H.G.

The monster within?! What in the flying hell had happened to that girl's normally dependable, if over-exercised, brain? Clearly, she had never declared a secret burning lust to an off-limits authority figure before, but Snape very much wished she had run this plan by one of her idiot friends before committing to it.

Surely even Lavender Brown would have had the sense to say, "You know, Hermione, perhaps confessing your love to Professor Snape and gifting him with an appallingly self-indulgent novel about the eerily autodidactic spawn of a potions experiment gone wildly awry is not the best way to ensure a comfortable holiday season?"

He shook his head slightly as he felt the onset of a headache unfurling at the base of his skull. What in the bloody hell was he supposed to do about this?

"What have you got there?" a familiar voice floated into his thoughts.

Snape froze. This didn't seem to be the sort of situation one should discuss with one's lover. Oh, well, it's just an outrageously inappropriate gift from an infatuated student who I most certainly have never ogled in any way, not that you'll likely believe me.

"Oh, just another useless gift from a parent of one of my not-entirely-hopeless NEWT students," replied Snape casually, turning to face Lupin and tucking it behind his back.

But the other man had seen that said gift included several hundred pieces of paper with words typed across them, bound at one edge and wrapped in a solid cover - in other words, a book. He was across the room in seconds, pulling it out of Snape's hands.

"Ooh, Frankenstein!" he said excitedly, giving a low whistle as he appraised the polished cover. "Wow, Snape, this is gorgeous. Can I look through it when you're done?" He continued turning the book over in his hands, inspecting every corner of it, then opening it and thumbing through the pages with such reverence and care that one would have thought they were breakable.

Snape watched him for a moment, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips at this display of such child-like wonder. He wished he could just give Lupin the damned thing and be done with it; everyone would be happy. Instead, he reached out and let his hand brush Lupin's as he gently prised the book away. "Sorry, you incurable bibliophile, but I'm not keeping this."

Lupin's eyebrows shot to the ceiling, and Snape almost laughed out loud upon seeing that the poor man must think he meant he was going to throw it in the rubbish bin.

"Why?" exclaimed Lupin. "Give it to me if you don't want it! I love that story."

Snape eyed him with keen amusement as he set the book down on the desk, thankful for an excuse not to have to explain why he wasn't keeping it. "You must be joking," he began, preparing himself for one of his favourite games with this man: the intellectual debate. Well, one of his favourite clothed games, at least. "Frankenstein? Is it the trite, absolutely nonsensical plot you prefer, or the utter disregard for even Muggle principles of science?"

Lupin grinned and cleared his throat, ready to adopt his most professorial tones. This was one of his favourite games, too. "It's neither, Snape. I like it because Shelley beautifully captures the sense of powerlessness we all feel over our internal demons, our inner monsters."

Snape gave himself pause at that, his mind floating back to Hermione's note, but then let it go. "Oh please, Lupin! It is hardly original or terribly intellectually taxing to create as a literary symbol of the 'monster within' a... what is it again? Oh yes, an actual monster." He folded his arms over his chest and eyed his opponent smugly.

But Lupin surprised him by chuckling. "Oh, Snape," he began, in that mocking tone he liked to use when he thought he was about to score a point. "You think it's the monster that represents our internal demons?" He paused to feign more laughter and dab at his eyes. "You see, old chap, this is precisely where scientists run into trouble when they try to analyse literature - you view everything in black and white."

Snape grimaced. Damn. Cornered again. Lupin was the master at giving vague non-answers in these contests of theirs, while revealing just enough tantalising glimpse of fact that Snape was forced by his own curiosity to ask the requisite follow-up question - All right, what does the monster represent, Lupin? Or, conversely - Who represents our internal demons if not the monster?

But he didn't get a chance to ask those questions, nor to compose a brilliantly witty retort on the virtues of science over literature, because at that moment someone knocked on the partly-open door. At least they both had clothes on, he found himself thinking as a head poked in - but upon seeing who it was, he quickly banished all grateful thoughts.

"Professor - " Hermione began, but stopped upon seeing them both there. "Oh, er- I mean, Professors... um..."

"Hermione!" Lupin cut her off with a broad, welcoming grin and waved her forward. "Come in, come in, you may be interested in this discussion Professor Snape and I were just having."

"Lupin, I don't think this is the time - " Snape began, his lips pressed tightly together.

"Nonsense! Hermione enjoys a good debate, don't you?" He turned to the girl and winked.

She shuffled forward nervously, her eyes darting between the two men.

"We were just debating the plot of Frankenstein," Lupin continued, as Snape winced and turned quickly towards the window.

"Oh, really?" Hermione asked cautiously, a slow smile spreading across her face.

"Yes, now, Professor Snape is being a bit bull-headed over here, insisting that the story is - what was that word you used, Severus?" Lupin turned inquiringly to the other man for a moment, then snapped his fingers mockingly. "Oh, that's right - 'trite,' I believe was the word. But I say the tale has indescribable literary merit. What do you think, Ms. Granger?"

"Oh! Um, yes, well, I quite enjoy Shelley's writing," she ventured uncertainly.

"See!" Lupin clapped his hands in triumph. "I knew that Hermione would agree with me. Looks like you're wrong again, Snape." His eyes sparkled mischievously.

Snape turned away from the window to face them again, his nerves on end, wondering why on earth he should give a damn about this wretched girl's feelings. "Well, 'trite' is a strong word, Lupin," he began awkwardly. "I didn't exactly say that. I just meant that it's a challenging book in its own way, but certainly one that I, er- enjoy... on its own merits, that is." He cleared his throat and glanced between the two of them - they both had expressions of utter bewilderment on their faces.

"Yes, well," Hermione said after a few seconds of pained silence. "I just came to tell you... both... that Harry and Ron have made dinner, so if you'd like to join us..." She trailed off and gave them each one last strained glance, then disappeared out the door.

"All right." Lupin turned to Snape in confusion. "What the fuck was that all about? She's a smart girl, Snape; I've had these conversations with her before! You don't need to dumb down your opinions for her..."

Lupin's words died away as Snape dropped ungracefully into the chair in front of the desk and tossed him Hermione's letter.

He picked it up wordlessly and scanned the page. When he raised his eyes again, Snape was unimpressed to see pure mirth mixed with the expected astonishment.

"And the book?"

Snape nodded.

He stared at Snape for a few seconds, then burst out laughing. "Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me," he managed at last, wiping his eyes.

"Thanks a lot," Snape snorted.

"Oh, now, don't get like that," Lupin cooed teasingly. "It's not that I don't see the appeal, of course - "

Snape shot him a deadly look.

"Well!" protested Lupin. "You sweep in and out of that classroom with your robes all aflare, with that sexy swish of your hips, and - mmm - that voice of yours, even listing potions ingredients, it's downright erotic." He sauntered behind the desk and placed a hand on either arm of the chair, bending over to whisper in Snape's ear. "If I was in your class, I'd dream about fucking you as well."

Snape moaned softly at the hot breath on his neck, gazing down the open collar of Lupin's shirt, momentarily caught up in a sudden urge to take the man brutally and repeatedly, right on this desk, right that second.

"Hey, Professor Lupin? Prof- Professor Snape?" Ron's tentative voice called from down the hall. "Your beans on toast is getting cold!"

Lupin rose sadly and exchanged a pained look with his lover. "Don't even think about locking that door," he warned. "We're going out there and eating whatever vile concoction they put in front of us, all right?"

Snape grimaced, mentally noting that he would persuade Lupin to make it up to him later. "Fine," he conceded sulkily. "And Ms. Granger?"

"Just act normal," Lupin sighed, running a weary hand over his face. "We can deal with that later. But might I recommend not going to her room tomorrow night?"

"Hilarious," Snape drawled. "You are a true comedian."

Lupin smiled. "We'll talk to her tomorrow," he said. "I'll come with you, if you want."

"I can handle it," Snape sighed, then his lip curled. "I'll make sure she never again thinks that I could be any sort of warm and cuddly boyfriend for her."

Lupin looked at him with some alarm. "Wait - what are you going to say? Don't you dare embarrass that girl, Severus." He shot the other man a warning glare.

"Oh, please, Lupin. You're the one who's always going on about how mature she is. Surely she can handle a frank conversation about why that letter was the single most absurd thing she's ever written in her life."

"No, Snape, don't you fucking dare." Lupin backed away and pointed a long finger at Snape. "Don't you even think of humiliating her! She's sixteen years old, for god's sake - she's full of hormones and uncertain about all the emotions she's having. And if I know her the way I think I do, she probably despises the boys her age. You have obviously captured her imagination, as some vaguely mysterious older man, and she's convinced herself that she's in love with you."

"Yes. A ridiculous notion."

"Ridiculous, yes, but not stupid. Snape, just promise me you won't make her feel stupid. She's at a vulnerable stage."

"Why are you defending her?" Snape snarled suddenly, rising from the chair. "Am I supposed to indulge this letter? Invite her to tea when the new term starts? Let her continue this wretched fantasy of hers?"

"Of course not. But everyone is allowed a lapse in judgement - especially teenagers!" Lupin's eyes darkened as he glared at Snape coldly. "You more than anyone should understand that."

The statement hung in the air like a poisonous fume.

"Yes," Snape finally hissed. "She's right on that path, isn't she? First comes the ill-advised declaration of love for a professor, then her next 'lapse in judgement' will be running off and joining the Death Eaters, hmm? You'll forgive me if I fail to see the connection." His voice was low and quiet, but held a deadly venom.

Lupin raised his chin defiantly. "It could happen, if she's torn to pieces by a man she's come to care about."

"I see." Snape clasped his hands behind his back and gazed at Lupin, calm fury raging behind his eyes. "Then perhaps I shouldn't let her down at all? Perhaps I should go to her tomorrow night, hmm?" He paused and stepped towards Lupin, leaning close to the other man's face, speaking slow and deliberate words. "Perhaps I should do what she's asked, and fuck her?"

Lupin's hands balled into fists at his sides.

"Or, wait..." Snape continued acidly. "Perhaps that's what you want to do? You do seem outrageously fond of the girl, Lupin, inviting her over for book discussions every weekend. Would it be amiss to conclude that you're jealous of her feelings for me?"

Lupin shook his head sadly. "Snape, it's not me who's jealous, and you know it. You have to stop trying to - "

"Remus, what the hell? Do you two want dinner or not?" It was Harry this time, calling down the hallway in an irate voice. "We're not your bloody servants, you know."

Lupin swore under his breath and turned away from Snape. "We can talk about this later," he snapped, striding to the door.

"I can hardly wait," drawled Snape, waiting several seconds before following.

They headed into the kitchen to join the others for dinner.

To be continued...