Merry Christmas, Professor Snape
Warnings: none! Just a big ol’ bunch of holiday cheer!
It was in your seventh year that you decided to act upon your idea. The idea had started already in your second year at Hogwarts, around Christmas, when you noticed how your head of house always seemed extra gloomy when Christmas arrived. So, in your seventh year, you gathered all of your friends in your common room, some were fellow N.E.W.T’s potion students, others were younger students who you’d learned all shared a wish to stay at Hogwarts at Christmas, either because they wanted to get away from the tyranny that reigned in their family or for some other reason. You sat them down and explained your plan, they all agreed.
You handed out jobs to everyone, you handed an envelope to two third years whom you knew to be good at getting around unnoticed and they immediately set off towards the professors’ private chambers, some of the older students were on kitchen duty, some of the younger who insisted on helping with the food was allowed to help with peeling potatoes and what not. Others decorated, some of the students who were better at transfiguration and charms assembled the table and the tree, some muggle born first years had started to cut paper hearts and other decorations for the tree and you smiled as some pure-blooded students, young as well as older gathered around them, asking how they made them and if they could show them how. Someone had gone up to the muggle studies tower and stolen a computer (it hadn’t been long since some students who were tech-savvy had come up with a way to make the computers work outside of the tower, though no students ever talked about it loudly, it was too risky) and the music started to play. For the first time in years, you saw your housework together in a way it only used to do when there was a Quidditch match coming up. The time flew by and suddenly it was time. You asked if everything was ready, each thing on the list was ticked off - all you needed now was the guest of honour. You waited, but nothing happened. People were itching with anticipation.
“Maybe he didn’t get the note?” A first-year piped up.
“No way, we made sure he would notice it, right Arthur?” Said one of the third years, Arthur nodded. “There’s no way unless he’s suddenly gone blind.”
And with that everyone went quiet, the music had been turned down when the clock had stricken 7 o’ clock and you’d all sat down waiting for the sound of the door opening.
Suddenly you heard something scramble outside the common room, everyone looked towards the opening. And then, the familiar billowing cape appeared coming down the stairs. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as they watched the potions master appear with a curious look on his face, he barely reached the end of the staircase before the students roared out a “Merry Christmas!” and he was first reached by the youngest students present, none of whom seemed to be afraid of him, which you could tell he found unusual as he glared at them with wide open eyes.
“We decorated for you, we even made some of the decorations without magic!” Said one, especially energetic first year. “We wanted to find some music and food you like, but you never talk about what you like so we just guessed.” Said another. Snape looked between the students, seemingly too shocked to say anything. When the younger students finished speaking to him all he muttered was a “….What?”
A few of your fellow N.E.W.T’s students laughed a little. You stepped forward, trying hard not to look too proud of how everything turned out. “We wanted to surprise you,” you explained, Snape looked at you, eyes still wide with shock and confusion, “We know you hate the Christmas dinners in the Great Hall, so we figured we’d make one that’s a bit more private.” You continued, gesturing to the long table behind you. “And no crackers!” A girl in your year said with a smile, several people snickered and Snape’s lips even seemed to twitch into something resembling a smirk for a second.
He looked around, taking in the sight of the Christmas tree, which was neatly decorated, though it was clear that the decorations were made by children, not that he really minded that, it made it more…Homely, somehow, he looked at the top of the tree where a silver snake was placed, he almost burst out laughing. His eyes travelled down to the bottom of the tree, where presents were placed, all packed in Slytherin colours, whether they were real or not was unclear. He looked at the table, that, sure enough, didn’t have a single cracker on it, instead, there were black, silver and green stars spread down the middle, with green and silver candles. He chose to ignore the clearly stolen muggle-studies computer and instead looked at his students. All of them wore excited looks on their faces, they were clearly proud of how they’d managed to get him down here. He took in the words that Y/n had said. “We wanted to surprise you,” they’d said, “We know you hate the dinners,” “So we wanted to make one that’s a bit more private.” They’d done all of this for him because they liked him and wanted to make everything better for him. Now that the thought dawned upon him, it was almost too much to bear. He realised he’d been looking at the floor for an awfully long time, he looked up again. The smiles were somewhat gone, some looked worried.
“We haven’t made you sad, have we? Sir?” A second year asked. Snape recognised them immediately, they weren’t too bright, but he knew their family history, which easily explained their tendency to fall into deep daydreaming.
“No!” He hurriedly answered, “No, it’s just - I don’t know what to say.” He admitted. The smiles returned to the students’ faces. “You don’t have to say anything, sir.” Said Y/n, gesturing towards the table. “Come, sit down.”
For the first time ever, it seemed that Snape had a Christmas dinner he enjoyed. He’d never thought his students to be such caring and understanding people, with their shared family history and all, but he found that the children that surrounded him were not only kind but far more intelligent on the subject of other people’s feelings than he’d ever imagined.
As the feast ended and people were huddled in small groups, talking and laughing, it was proposed to do the same thing next year, if Snape would allow it, of course. Snape answered that he’d truly like that very much.
Even many years after, those students would sit in their homes on Christmas eve and reminisce about the Christmas dinner they’d held, where for the first time, the potions master had seemed content, clinking his goblet with the N.E.W.T students’ and laughing as people told anecdotes and, seeming as an immense gift of trust to those students, later on, he’d shared stories about himself, purposely leaving out the worst of the worst, and instead told stories of the few good Christmases he’d had as a very small child.
