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grant-it · 5 months ago

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The Weary Soul Rejoices

You and Severus spend Christmas Eve night together while tip toeing around your attraction to each other.

Word Count: 4.3k CW- student reader, unestablished relationship, slight angst, forbidden mutual pining

The Slytherin dorms had a tendency to be cold, especially on a winter night like this one. Sitting in front of the fire was the only place you wanted to be right now- mainly because it’s the only place you felt warm and welcome. It’s Christmas Eve, and the majority of all the students have left until the semester resumes. More Slytherins lingered in the castle compared to the other houses, yet it was still like a ghost town in the dorms. It was nice though, usually this place is loud and chaotic but tonight it’s calm and comforting.

This will be your seventh Christmas Eve sitting in front of this exact fireplace. You didn’t really have a family to go back to for the holiday. Estranged from your father and your mother long dead, it’s never a hard decision whether or not stay at school. You let out a sigh while staring into the fire. The pops and crackles have hypnotized you for who knows how long. The realization of this being your last Christmas at Hogwarts begins to set in. Where will you be next year? Perhaps in a place of your own. Merlin forbid you have to spend a bleak and depressing Christmas with your father, never speaking a word to each other unless necessary. Soft footsteps coming down the stairs break you out of your trance.

“Hey.”

Daphne emerges from the steps that lead to our rooms. She’s bundled up in her scarf and gloves, a light pink covering her cheeks. Daphne has always been kind to you ever since you punched a boy who was trying to hex her little sister.

“Me and the others are going to sneak down to the quidditch pitch, they’re already waiting outside. Hopefully at this point, Snape will be up for the night so, it will be pretty easy getting out of the dungeons. Gonna come with?”

You Ignore the invitation.

“Why the quidditch pitch? It’s freezing outside.” You ask, subconsciously curling up closer to the fire. She shrugs, tying her scarf tighter. “The snow from this morning is untouched down there, guess they want to make snow angels or something to celebrate Christmas.” She scoffs. “I’m just going because I feel as if I’m losing my mind. There’s absolutely nothing fun to do here over break.” She tilts her head, noticing you not moving to follow her. She purses her lips and starts walking to exit the commons. “Well, have a nice rest of your night! I’m kind of jealous. Being in the snow will be fun for like, five minutes.” She mumbles the last part before stealthy leaving, trying to not make any noise. Even though the door itself is loud enough to tip off anyone nearby.

A part of you feels like you should join them. You don’t particularly get along with the other students that have stayed, yet the lot of you were friendly enough. During your time at Hogwarts you never made any real friends- most likely from your lack of trying. But, making snow angels after curfew on the quidditch pitch-that you’ve never even stepped foot on- does seem like a nice send off to your last Christmas here.

It’s your last Christmas here.

It’s a sobering thought. With one final look into the fire, you stand up and head to your room to bundle up as much as you can. Wrapping your large grey and green scarf around you, slipping on your gloves and an extra cloak, you head for the door. Each step that brings you closer the urgency from just a few minutes ago fades away. What if by the time you get down there, they’re already coming back? And it’s freezing outside, you don’t necessarily own the correct clothes for rolling around in the snow. You glance back at the fireplace and puff out your cheeks. It’s not even that you really want to go with them, you just want to do something with your last Christmas Eve. All you usually do is mope around like a loser. You stand at the exit to the common room for a while, contemplating. Maybe you could sneak down to the kitchens, steal some champagne? If there even is any. Maybe you could convince one of the house elves to get you some. Shaking your head, you decide to leave anyway. “Let us see where the night takes us.” You say out loud, before quietly stepping into the hallway. When you are fully out the door, you turn around as the large stone snake slithers back down into the floor, hiding the door once again. You cringe at the noise that echoes through the dungeons. You wait for a moment to hear out for Professor Snape's footsteps, but they never come.

You wandered through the halls of the castle, time slipping away from you. Your thoughts keeping wrapping back around to Professor Snape. As your thoughts often do, to be honest. During your fifth year he started to catch your eye more. First of all because his face is quite pretty, and second- you relate to him. Before all of that it was mainly just intimation and a smidge of fear. His presence has always been extremely intense. He doesn’t light up a room but you always know when he’s entered one. You felt drawn to him, your eyes always searching him out when he could be nearby. It’s safe to say you will forever be grateful to excel in potions- the extra attention you get because of it always makes your heart skip a beat. The fact that he is the head of your house is also a bonus. You wonder how he’s spending his Christmas Eve. Probably the same way he spends every other night, slouching over his desk, handing out failing grades like its candy. He’s bathed in candle light, with a calm expression on his face. Though that’s a bit hard to imagine. Not because you don’t think he can’t be calm- you’ve just never seen him like that. Maybe he’s listening to music, perhaps even muggle music. Snape seems like a Nat King Cole kind of man. That last part is a reach though, Snape isn't the type to indulge in anything remotely festive. You let out a giggle at the thought, shoving your hands in your pockets. You've stopped in front of a window that goes all the way up to the ceiling. Through the dark you can make out the quidditch pitch on the horizon- as well as Daphne and her friends walking back up. You feel a small tug at your heart.

Maybe you don’t like to indulge in anything festive either.

All you did these past years is sit alone in front of that fire place, attending the Christmas feast the next day because you had to, then going back to being alone. Even on your very last Christmas Eve at Hogwarts you prefer to walk around a deserted castle instead of spending it with people you could call your friends- that is if you tried hard enough to actually talk to them. You’ve let a few stray tears fall past your eyes, not even noticing you had started to cry.

“Fuck..” You whisper, sniffling as you dry off your face with your glove.

“What are you doing?” A low voice from behind you makes you jump out of your skin.

“Merlin!” You whip around, putting your hand over your heart. Professor Snape stands before you, eyebrow raised at your reaction. He was halfway in the shadows, emerging from an empty classroom.

“You scared me half to death, Snape!” You close your eyes, calming down from the jump scare. Looking back up at him, you feel your face heat up. You had just been thinking about him and what he was up to, you’ve practically manifested him. You clear your throat, unable to stop the blush from spreading all over your face. You’re in some deep trouble though, no doubt. It’s way past curfew and you’re wandering about the halls.

“I was just talking a walk. Needed some air, I guess.” You sniff again, hoping any signs of your tears are gone. He tilts his head at you, staring deeply into your eyes. You have to look away from him-the intense stare making your heart beat faster. He lets out a large sigh, taking a few steps closer to you.

“Why are you upset?” He asks, begrudgingly. You chew the inside of your cheek, looking back outside the window.

“I’m not upset. Not really.” You put your hands back in your pockets, glancing at him. “You’re not going to get onto me about being out past curfew?” You question.

“It’s Christmas Eve. And you were crying. I’m feeling uncharacteristically…generous.” He draws out the word generous, making you shiver. Hopefully he thinks from the cold. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Professor Severus Snape? Being generous?

“Thank you, Sir.” You say, looking back out the window. Snape follows your gaze. Thankfully, your fellow students are out of view now. The two of you find yourself in a comfortable silence, and you sneak a look at him. His side view could very well be your favorite way to observe him. His hooked nose, the way his hair falls down around his ears, and the way you can look into his eyes without meeting them. It’s not the usual perspective you get to experience. Suddenly his eyes move over, catching you staring. But you don’t look away.

“Professor, if you don’t mind me asking, do you celebrate Christmas?”

He is the one to break eye contact, looking up into the night sky. For a moment, you think he’s chosen to ignore your question entirely. Just as you began to beat yourself up in your mind, he speaks.

“Perhaps…not in the way others traditionally do.”

You slowly nod your head. That’s a very typical non-answer answer that he would give. He seems to notice your dissatisfaction, and rolls his eyes.

“I don’t do the silly decorations, dreadful caroling, or watch those foul excuses for a movie where they all realize the, lack for a better word, magic of Christmas.” He sneers.

You get the urge to laugh, but settle on just smiling.

“I want to agree with you, but l fear I love the silly decorations.”

He looks back down at you and scrunches up his nose, as if he’s smelling something repulsive. Making a noise of disagreement, he puts his hands behind his back.

“Soon the holiday will be over and we will all be better for it.” He mumbles. Your smile fades a bit at his comment, and you look down at your shoes.

“It’s my last year here. And I don’t usually give a care for the holiday but now that it’s my last one at Hogwarts it feels…different. More sad.” You admit. You can feel the tears begin to build up again, and you dry your eyes before they can spill over.

“It... was always going to come to an end.” Snape says in such a quiet voice, it’s practically a whisper.

“I know, I know.” You take a deep breath in and out and compose yourself. You hate the feeling of crying, and you're sure he doesn't want to deal with you crying either. You both enter another bout of silence- this one filled with a bit of tension.

He crosses his arms. “It seems there's no helping it.” He says to himself, before turning on his heel and starting down the hallway. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, opening your mouth to question him before he cuts you off.

“Come along, it’s getting close to midnight.”

Disappointment settles into your chest. You should have known a peaceful moment between you and him wouldn’t last very long. Now he’s going to escort you right back to the dormitory, back to being alone. Trudging along after him, you both descend further down into the castle.

Reaching the dungeons once more, you realize he isn’t taking you back to your dorm, but to his office. You pick up your pace to walk next to him.

“Professor? What are we doing?” You ask, not being able to help the smile growing on your face.

“Celebrating Christmas.”

Soon you’re at his office and he opens the door, gesturing for you to enter first. You’ve been in his office a handful of times before. All because of a detention here and there but that’s extremely normal for anyone who’s had the luck of having him as a Professor. You take in the space. Nothing has ever changed. It’s a good-sized room, in the shape of a semicircle. Enough for the sole reason of working at a desk. Books and jars of various ingredients line the walls, and upon his desk in neat stacks were student’s papers waiting to be graded. Only a few candles are lit this evening giving the room a cozy glow. Even though the walls are all bookshelves, stacks of books overflow onto the floor. And there is something tucked in the corner that you have never noticed before. A record player.

“Sit.” He says before disappearing behind a door that you assume leads to his living quarters. You take a seat in the chair in front of his desk. It’s odd being in here without the feeling of being a deer in headlights, fearing whatever detention he has lined up. You look out the window on the back wall, the soft light of the moon seeping into the room. A gentle flurry of snow has begun.

He reemerges, and as you suspected you catch a glimpse of what looks like a small flat before he shuts the door again. A tray with two cups of tea float onto the desk.

“We’re having tea?”

“One cup. Then you go back to your room.” He says, before sitting down in his office chair across from you. He grabs a cup and sets it down in front of him, relaxing into his seat. You do the same and clutch the warm cup in your hands, an unmistakable joy beginning to fill your body. You’re very happy you decided to leave the dorm tonight.

“Thank you for the tea, Professor.”

He nods before taking a sip. You wonder if this is his idea of cheering you up. Or perhaps he also didn’t want to be alone when the clock strikes midnight.

“I use to love Christmas as a child. Before a gloom took over my house.” You say. You’re not sure why, but the urge to confine in him grows with every passing minute. Perhaps it’s because he’s actually acting like a human being with feelings instead of just a cold professor. Another part of you thinks maybe he knows how you feel.

“I’ve never loved Christmas. I had an aversion for it in childhood. It wasn’t until I became a student here at Hogwarts did it become tolerable.” He frowns. You wished to know why he hated Christmas as a kid. But, you usually know when to not cross a line.

“I’m lucky that I have good memories of Christmas from when I was younger. Yet, it’s just moments. Mostly involving my mother before she got sick. Her watching me open a gift she probably got me months beforehand. She’d pinch my frozen cheeks when I came in from the snow.” You smile into your tea. “She came from a muggle family. My father didn’t, so he never really cared for Christmas. But I think he came around to the idea after marrying her. Then all the sudden she was gone, and honestly so was he.” Looking back up to him, he already had his eyes on you. Flustered, you sip your tea. “Sorry. Don’t know where that came from.”

He looks away.

“Tis the season.” He drawled out. You try to find a way to change the subject, ashamed of your oversharing.

“You said you started “tolerating” Christmas after becoming a student, why?”

His finger circles the rim of his tea cup- and you actively avoid watching him do so.

“I suppose it was forced upon me. It’s difficult to avoid the holiday in a place like this.” His smooth voice is like music to your ears.

“This school does ooze Christmas spirit. With the lovely, silly decorations.” You joke, and to your surprise the corners of his mouth raise into a soft smile.

“Agreed. Ooze is a perfect word to describe it.”

You laugh, and his eyes meet yours. You feel your face heat up again, and you wish with all your might for it to stop. His eyes roam all over your face, obviously taking note of your flustered appearance.

"Why didn't you go with the other students tonight?" He says, eyebrows furrowed. His question surprises you, mostly because you thought Daphne and the others actually got away with it.

"How did you know they had left?"

He smirks. "You're not usually one to ask foolish questions. I had spotted them walking back from the very window you were crying at."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You know practically everything that goes on in the castle as soon as it happens."

"That I do."

You start to piece this new information together.

"Professor, how long had you been standing there? I mean...were you behind me that whole time and I just didn't notice?" The question slips out of your lips. He freezes up- his smirk falling.

"And...what were you doing in that classroom?" You ask another question. You aren't thinking before you speak, all the dots connecting too quickly in your head. He had heard you coming and hid in a classroom? To avoid you? To...watch you?

"I thought you were Madam Pomfrey. I'm late on my pepperup restock so I thought it would be best to...avoid her." He looks away from you and sips his tea.

"Oh." You aren't convinced.

It's a sight to behold- he's hiding it, but he is definitely blushing.

"If you saw Daphne and her friends, why didn't you go get them?"

You're digging yourself a grave, but it feels too late to stop now. He doesn't speak, weighing his words. His eyes glance over to you, then back to his tea.

"I decided you were in need of my attention."

Feeling like your soul is leaving your body, you take a sip of tea.

"I appreciate you cheering me up instead of busting them." You say, trying to play it cool and act as if you didn't just catch your Professor in a lie about watching you from the shadows. You wished you found it creepy, but unfortunately it's quite the opposite.

"They will still be given punishment come the 26th. I'll let them have a day to think they got past me."

"Oh Professor, that's just evil." You tease. He shrugs, smirking once again.

"Breaking curfew and leaving the castle after said curfew. That's enough to earn polishing every piece of silver in the Great Hall."

"Have you forgotten I'm breaking curfew as well?" You raise your eyebrow.

"I have you here with me." He brushes off your question. Unsure as to why exactly, those words make your stomach flutter.

Neither of you know what to say next. The two of your awkwardly sip your tea.

"I think it's nice you'll let them enjoy their Christmas. Thats the real reason you're waiting to reveal you caught them, isn't it?" You ask, his eyes sliding back over to you.

He doesn't respond, which is an answer enough.

"I won't tell anyone." You smirk.

He clears his throat at your comment and looks at the clock.

He suddenly gets out of his chair, and you start to think you've said something wrong, but he makes his way over to the record player stashed in the corner.

“This,” He takes a record from a shelf. “Is how I celebrate Christmas.”

He sets the record down, and lowers the needle. The satisfying crackle fills the room as he comes back to sit across from you. With a bated breath you stare at him. He seems embarrassed as he refuses to meet your eyes. The soft music starts, and you almost gasp.

Nat King Cole. O Holy Night.

“I’m not a religious man but, my mother loved this song. She would play it once every year before she passed. It’s…the only thing we ever did for Christmas.”

You were speechless, and decided to stay that way. You both sat and watched the snow fall outside his window, listening to the dulcet tones. You could tell Snape was deep in thought, as were you. You had tried to not let your thoughts linger too much on your mother this year, to no avail. The deep melancholic longing never gets any less painful. Every time Christmas comes around you feel the hole your mother has left in your heart a bit more. She was such a beacon of light. Even though your father can be cold and cruel, you know it’s because he misses her. As do you.

Your eyes moved from the snow, to Snape. You watched the back of his head and felt as if you were in the presence of a completely different person. You didn’t know that he also lost his mother. You’re honored that he is even sharing this with you, a topic that you are certain he does not speak of to anyone. As if he felt your gaze upon him, he turned around. Your eyes didn’t break contact as the song reached its end. He had a vague look of pain on his face, no doubt a part of him going back in time to his mother. And you could tell he was fighting the uncomfortableness of showing this side of himself to you. His hand was resting on the table and you had an overwhelming urge to reach over and grab it. Just as you slowly started lifting your hand from your lap, the song had ended. His eyes flickered down to the movement of your hand before he looked away from you. He rose out of his chair, turning off the music before the next song could start.

Sheepishly, you returned your hand to your lap. As he was putting the record away, you glanced at the clock. Two minutes past midnight. Christmas Day.

Snape walked to stand in front of the window, his back facing you. Just as you were about to speak, he turns around.

"Time... doesn't wait. It violently moves forward. Things will constantly change until your last breath. You must also move forward, and accept it." Snape slowly begins to walk toward you. "You can be sad, like how you are tonight. But you cannot dwell."

He's now standing in front of you, and you have to crane your neck up to look at him. The sudden monologuing catches you off guard- his words hitting you like a slap in the face.

"The worst thing you can do for yourself is stay stagnant in your grief. Grow with it." He puts his hand on your shoulder. You take in a sharp breath.

"What if I can't?" you ask, looking up at him desperately. He shakes his head, and lets his hand fall back down to his side.

"You must." He says firmly.

As you take in his words, he goes back around his desk and starts to put your tea glasses back on the tray.

"Have you, Professor? Grown with your grief?" You stare at the ground. He's paused what he's doing and you know his gaze is on you.

"Look at me." His gravelly voice instantly makes your head raise and your eyes cut over to him. He has a serious look in his eyes and you fear you've finally overstepped.

"That shouldn't matter to you. Heed my words. You cannot go through life passing things up because you're still in the past." He says with a sharpness, before his expression softens just the slightest.

"You spend too much time in your own head. Come out."

You stare at him in awe. He's right. You've spent so much time feeling sorry for yourself, the past seven years have flown by. And you had nothing to show for it. You don't go out with friends to make angels in the snow.

He's trying to tell you to not end up like him.

You stand up and he straightens his posture. You're seeing him in a whole new light and you can't look away.

“Merry Christmas, Professor Snape.” You whisper.

“Merry Christmas.” He whispered back. Neither of you move.

You wish you could cross so many boundaries that stand between the two of you.

“Thank you for this.” You finally say. He gives you a slight nod before striding around his desk to the door.

“Now...off to bed with you. You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with the Christmas-stricken children tomorrow.” He deadpanned. You let out a small laugh and shake your head. The way he can switch up his mood is astonishing.

He holds the door open for you as you give him one last smile, venturing out into the hallway. You don’t even make it three steps before he speaks behind you.

“Thank you.”

You turn back and look at him. He stood in the middle of the doorway watching you, not a flicker of emotion showing on his face anymore.

"You know...I don't think we ever stop growing. Like you said, things are constantly changing." You bite your lip as if to keep in your next sentence.

"Maybe I'll come visit you for Christmas next year and we can do this again."

The corners of his mouth lift into a wistful smile.

"Maybe."

Giving him a small wave, you turn and continue back to your dorm. That isn’t exactly how you thought you’d spend your Christmas Eve, but it’s better than you could’ve even imagined.

When you get back, and you cozy up into bed, you feel excitement for what the next day will bring. You hadn't felt that way in a long, long time.

Oh, night divine.

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