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Merry Christmas, Severus by Shelby95
Chapter 1 : Merry Christmas, Severus
 
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Merry Christmas, Severus is based upon the Harry Potter series written by JK Rowling. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Bloomsbury Publishing, Arthur A. Levine Books, and Raincoast Books [Copyright©1995 to present]

Author's Note: So, a reviewer pointed out that they thought that I had stolen the mistletoe scene from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I just wanted to say that I did not, actually! I totally didn't even realize the connection; honestly, the fifth book/movie is my LEAST favorite of the series because Sirius Black dies and I just can't stand Umbridge. But no, I didn't steal it, but I definitely see that there's a connection now!(: Anywho, hope you enjoy it!


The full moon shone from above Hogwarts, twinkling slightly as several stars glowed around it. However, it was hard to find as many stars as you could usually see above Hogwarts due to the fact it was snowing fiercely. The wind was whispering -- or more like growling -- around the turns of the castle; the trees were bending and trying to keep their ground. As I walked to the greenhouses on the west side of the castle, clumps of snow were hitting me and sticking to my black hair. Although it was uncomfortable and burning my eyes, I ignored it, and continued in my path.

Finally I reached greenhouse number three, and with a flick of my wand, the glass door unhinged itself and I quickly strutted in. I ran my hands through my hair and brushed off my cloak, eyeing the area around me. The glass was covered in blankets of snow, and the plants seemed to all be shivering. I wondered why Professor Sprout had yet to cast a warming charm, but I ignored it none the less. I had a job: to get several ounces of Silverweed.

The thing about Silverweed is that it is best to be harvested when it was cold outside, hence why I put myself through the torture of walking when it was below 0 degrees outside to discover some. It’s quite an usual plant, used for several potions: and I needed it for my fourth year students soon. Not a lot, but enough so if Neville Longbottom explodes his potion he can start over again.

As I walked through the tall isles of plants, I searched for Silverweed. I regretted the fact that Professor Sprout had nothing labeled, and was thankful I knew what it looked like. Mustard yellow. Generally short. Chalky.

And then I found it in the sixth row of plants. But this plant wasn’t alone.

There stood Miss. Levins, my potions intern. She was only about 27 years old, majoring to become a potions teacher in The Academy, helping to teach new healers. She had already obtained her healer’s license -- studying from age 18 to age 25 -- but to obtain her teaching license in this particular area of interest, she must do several internships. She must be adequately educated in teaching not only potions, but herbology is well. She spent two years interning at Beauxbatons Academy -- she is originally from France and speaks both English and French fluently -- within a herbology class, and now she has come to Hogwarts for the next two years to learn how to teach potions.

Her incredible intelligence and motivation wasn’t the only thing alluring about her: this young woman was absolutely beautiful. She was quite shorter than me, I standing at 6’2” while she only stood at around 5’4”, and had entrancing blue eyes. They were a light cerulean, swirling with several lines of green. She had chestnut colored locks that were naturally wavy, yet she rarely wore them down. To maintain a professional look, she had a tendency of wearing them in a tight bun. Not only that, but she always wear a tight, charcoal pencil skirt and some sort of blouse with stilettos.

However, today she was not wearing what she usually did. She wore a pair of loose maroon sweats and a beige spaghetti strap tank-top, along with a sweatshirt that matched her sweats. Her hair was down, falling slightly past her shoulders, and she wore a pair of beaten up converse.

I didn’t even realize she was staring at me while I took in her appearance. I cleared my throat, and she spoke.

“Professor?” She smiled sheepishly, eyeing me. It was obvious that she had spoken while I was in a trance, and I swore at myself.

“Can you please repeat what you said, Miss. Levins?” I questioned in my usual eerie tone. She nodded at me.

“I said that I had taken up the liberty of gathering your Silverweed for class next week. I know how busy you get with grading papers and whatnot, and I figured I would do you a favor. I cut them instead of crushing them -- I figured you would want the students to do that themselves to see if their skills are exceptional or not,” She spoke in a sure tone, but I could tell she was nervous that I would be upset. I had a tendency of not being the most polite person in the world... obviously.

“That’s perfectly alright, Miss. Levins. But please in the future tell me before I waste my time coming down to gather something you have already gathered for me,” I knew that my tone was harsh, but it was difficult to wipe off my rough exterior. She nodded at me again.

“Of course, professor. I apologize,” She smiled gently and turned her back away from me, gathering all of the Silverweed into a plastic bag. As she reached over to her right to grab some that was in a clump, a plant I did not know reached over and bit her.

“Dammit,” She swore loudly, dropping the bag on the table and clutching her hand. I walked over to her, eyeing her injury.

“Give me your hand,” I demanded, avoiding her eyes. From my peripheral vision, I could see her looking at me reluctantly before handing me her hand.

I muttered a healing curse and the cut was gone. After that, I was struck by how soft her hand was and her warm touch. It was several moments before I realized how awkward this was, and I released her hand, coughing.

“Thank you,” She whispered, and I nodded at her. To avoid any more cumbersome events, I turned my heel and began walking out of the greenhouse. As my footsteps pounding loudly against the cement, I heard her call out.

“Professor,” She said and I stopped. I didn’t turn around, but she continued talking, “would you mind helping me with these bags? I have several of them, and I don’t want to risk dropping them in the snow and contaminating anything.”

I was perfectly aware that she was capable of performing a levitating charm to get them to the castle. And however my mind said to say no, I soon found myself saying, “yes”.

I walked over to her again, grabbed several of the bags, and spun out of the greenhouse. I heard her tennis shoes following me, though they were quickly lost when we were outside. The snow fell around us, and I glanced over at her, who now walked beside me. I loved the way the moon illuminated her eyes, and they seemed to be dancing. I sighed heavily and averted my gaze, avoiding thinking sinful thoughts.

It was a long walk to the castle, and even longer walk to the dungeons. With each step, it got more and more awkward, and I was incredibly thankful when we had finished packing up the Silverweed into the cabinets and were now standing within my classroom.

“Well, I will see you tomorrow, Miss. Levins,” I spoke with a dismissing tone, yet neither of us moved. It was several minutes before she breathed and began walking to the door. I followed her, preparing to open the door for her and proceed to my studies. Yet as she stood in front of the door, my hand on the doorknob, she spoke.

“Mistletoe,” I glimpsed upward and indeed, there was a bower of Mistletoe above us. The green leaves snaked around the red bulbs, and there was a light cover of snow upon them. I wondered how they had possibly gotten there, seeing as I had not cast them.

I peered back at Miss. Levins, and she shifted her weight at my gaze. I was aware of how close we were, and I could feel the heat radiating off of her body. I questioned my next move: kiss her? Don’t kiss her? I could potentially ruin our professional relationship. Maybe she doesn’t want to be kissed.

Yet I didn’t have long to think before she took another step toward me, putting only a few inches between us. She let out a small smile, and before I could think it through, my body was leaning toward her. My lips met hers with a small spark, and she and I stood there frozen. Soon, though, she kissed me back and they moved with perfect rhythm.

I am unsure of how long we stood there staring at each other after our kiss. Honestly, I wanted to take her into my arms: yet I chose not to. And with great effort, I opened the door and she walked out.

I watched her go, and when she was several feet from me, she turned around. Her delicately manicured nails played with each other, and she took a breath before speaking.

“Merry Christmas, Severus,” It was the first time she had ever spoken my first name, and she smiled brightly at me. I smiled back, unable to help myself. She rotated and continued walking back to her quarters, her footsteps echoing against the walls.

“Merry Christmas, Abigail,” I whispered, closing the door once she was out of sight and smiling to myself, “merry Christmas indeed.”




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