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Part I: Beginnings
Severus stirred the smoking cauldron with an expertly poised hand. Steam danced up and caressed his pale face, framed by his raven hair which was tied back at the base of his neck. He smirked as the contents bubbled, bright orange with a hint of golden yellow. The appearance and smell combined were outrageously pleasing to him and though he did not used to revel in silly holidays that revolved around erecting and decorating an evergreen in one’s home, he had grown to enjoy the holiday with all its warmth and light.
Three years ago, he ruminated, the spiced tea had not been so pretty. Nor had it smelled quite right…
The icy wind whispered of wintry precipitation not yet fallen and smelled strongly of frozen clouds as he stood freezing on the stoop of her small flat recalling the silliness of the mistake that brought him here. In his arms was a frustratingly foolish parcel that had accidentally found its way into his possession. He was expecting a book, what he received was an annoyingly soft, burgundy knitted blanket. He assumed it was warm, but did not allow himself to test it as it was not his to test. He examined the shipping label, which had been partially soaked then dried then scraped by delivery owl.
Granger …
His heart leapt into his throat. Of bloody course it was Granger’s post he’d received by mistake. Their time as professor and student was well enough behind them and Granger had only turned out to be one of the most annoyingly forgiving and kind of the war heroes… He saw her around once in awhile and exchanged polite pleasantries, but he did not allow his subtle interest in her impressive intellect and outstanding kindness to entice him to speak to her more than was socially expected.
So here there he stood. Freezing. Cloak billowing. Hair blustering. Blanket in box in hand. Waiting. For her to open the bloody door so he could inquire as to where his parcel was and to give her this incredibly soft—
Oh! Severus! The door swung open with a rush of heat and the smell of cinnamon and allspice.
Miss Grang—
Come in! It’s freezing out.
Oh. Yes, alright. He strode over the threshold and his vision was immediately filled with the sight of an evergreen tree covered in… decorative snowflakes, items apparently made from craft sticks, baubles, bells, and photographs. The whole thing was wrapped thrice with tinsel, a strand of threaded popcorn, and lights that flickered red, white, and green. The smell proved that the tree was real, but beyond the smell of the tree was the smell of something burning…
Ah! My spiced tea! Hermione’s smile was wiped from her face as she bolted to the kitchen. Severus placed the parcel under his arm and followed to maintain that she did not burn the whole street to the ground on account of answering the door. When he saw the congealed, brown mess inside the pot he grimaced and held his breath.
It seems your sugar has burned to the bottom of your pot… He smirked. It felt odd to be commenting on her brewing under the circumstances.
Well, of course I have! My mum always makes it, but I wanted to give it a go. She just doesn’t give me all the precise measurements in her instructions... and you and I both know that I’m more intuitive in other practices, NOT brewing potions… They shared a smirk and the memory of her accidentally polyjuicing herself with cat hair.
Would you like me to take a look?
Ah, Severus, is that why you popped over on Christmas Eve? To check on my tea? He noticed a pink glow to her cheeks and as soon as the last word slipped from her lips she took her bottom one between her teeth as if to try to trap the thought that had already flown between them.
I did not, in fact, come over to check on your tea brewing endeavors. I came because I have a parcel that belongs to you and I’m hoping you have the one that I was expecting… But I do not mind attempting to solve your little problem while I’m here. He held the package out between them. He didn’t see the point of owling her about the parcel when the blasted creatures were the one to mess up the post to begin with. They were overworked during the holidays, apparently.
She smiled and jested as she took the parcel in her hands Dropping in, bringing a gift, and fixing my brew, my how lucky I am!
Severus rolled his eyes but could not resist smirking in return. He felt something warm and heavy fall over him. Nothing supernatural in the magical sense… this was something inside his chest.
He went to work, pulling up his sleeves as he often did, the hammering in his chest causing him to forget completely the faded gray dark mark that scarred his arm. His hands fluttered over ingredients scattered along the countertop near the stove. He reached for the ingredients list, cleared the pot of its burnt offense, and began stirring the first three on the list into the heat in precise motions. He paused often, feeling her eyes on him as he read the list carefully. Intuitively, he adjusted the heat and increased the speed of his stirring.
Within five minutes he had completed the combination and the earlier brown concoction was now a beautifully perfect orange with a hint golden yellow.
Well, that was quite impressive. She remarked.
It’s all in feeling the ingredients melt together and knowing the precise moment to add the next… Anyway, there you have it. It’ll be ready for drinking in about an hour. Do you have my parcel?
Severus, I’m afraid I don’t. It may yet arrive?
I suppose it’s a possibility. You’ll floo when it does?
Or you could stay…
He stared at her quizzically. He’d just been invited to stay and wait for his parcel. On Christmas Eve. He was afraid if he opened his mouth that he would not be able to come up with a reason not to. Truth be told, he did quite enjoy the smell of the tea brewing and the company was not terrible…
At least stay until the tea is done! You must try some of it, especially since you brewed it. It would hardly be fair if I had it all to myself.
He gave a single nod in reply and she leaned against the bar top and began to inquire as to how he had been, sharing that she had been busy with family gatherings for the holiday but was looking forward to a quiet Christmas Eve night and was especially excited that he’d brought her new blanket over because What’s more festive than a warm blanket, warm fire, hot tea, and pleasant company at Christmas?
She was flirting with him.
Pleasant company seems to contradict your desire for a quiet Christmas Eve, no?
Severus, she half smiled and her eyes, damn it, they sparkled, I said I was looking forward to a quiet Christmas Eve, not that it is what I preferred… I do like good company. Besides, you’re not exactly the most talkative person. I imagine you like to sit fireside with a good book and delicious drink and soak up silence…
I find the fact that you imagine me at all is quite flattering. The blatant flirt flew out of his mouth before he could even think to rephrase it. He felt his face heat slightly and he turned to fiddle with the brewing tea.
Let’s move into the living area and be by the fire… I may have some books that will hold your interest for… oh…. 37 more minutes until our wonderfully festive tea is done!
So in they went. Her flat was small and the fireplace was wonderfully warm. He removed his outer cloak and draped it on the back of the sofa. There were no chairs in her living area, only a sofa that could comfortably seat three people. She led him over to her bookcase and he selected a book he’d been reading at home. She made her selection and they sat on opposite ends of the sofa. As the seconds passed by they fell into a very comfortable silence. Pages turning, fire snapping. He actually found it all quite audibly pleasing. She pulled her tiny bare feet up under herself and then, with a start, hopped up. I need my new blanket! She skipped into the kitchen to grab the parcel from the table. She wrapped herself in the burgundy fluff and he found it much less repulsive now than when he first discovered it as it flowed down around her like an all encompassing hug. Part of him, a very timid part of him, was quite jealous of the blanket.
When she sat back down she smiled broadly at him and sat with her back against the arm of the sofa, facing him, and bent her legs up so that her feet sat on the cushion between them. She wrapped the blanket around her and poked her arms out so she could hold her book.
Are you quite comfortable now? He jested.
Yes, quite, thank you. She giggled. He wasn’t sure what was funny, but he did enjoy the sound. He hadn’t ever noticed her laugh before…
The minutes passed on and he could feel her presence growing beside him. She was just sitting there. Reading her book. Being normal. And he was becoming more and more aware of her entire existence and every turn of the page. He could hardly stand it anymore. Finally, thank Merlin, the tea was finished.
Hermione summoned mugs of the hot brew and they both admired the perfect color and festive smell of the citrusy drink. They sipped in silence until Hermione whispered This is simply wonderful, Severus. Really. I’m so glad you stopped by or I’d be alone, drinking brown sludge and wondering what you were doing with your holiday. She sunk down behind her mug at the confession.
He finished his tea in a gulp and smirked at her, glancing sideways. He was completely useless when it came to relationships with women. He’d had a few fleeting romances, but nothing quite as exciting as liking someone so brilliant and knowing she liked him in return, I can tell you this is the happiest holiday I’ve had in a very long time. Quite the pleasant accident, it would seem…