A Matter of Honor
by Amy McWilliams (McAmy)

Book 3: Love and Honor

Chapter 13: Christmas Comes Again, Pt. 1

Hermione woke up because she was having trouble breathing. The source of her problem was the large ginger-colored cat who had decided to sleep curled up over her heart. Opening her eyes, she saw a bottle-brush tail swishing slowly back and forth and refrained from grabbing hold. "Why do I always get this end?" she asked, rolling to her side. Crookshanks meowed in protest, but was then distracted by the packages at the end of the bed.

"I love that even teachers get their presents in bed," she noted sleepily, as the cat nosed the ribbon on a present from her parents.

"Hmm," murmured Hermione, choosing to open their gift first. It was a lovely, floral-patterned throw--not too bright, and not too flowery. The note read, Dear Hermione, We love you and miss you. We know you are busy, but do come for New Year's if you can. Mum and Dad.

Hermione sighed. "Well, Crookshanks, I guess I'll be going to the parents' for New Year's." She turned to her other presents: chocolates from Ron; Gryffindor-striped gloves and a bottle of color-changing ink from Harry; The Big Book of Movies and Emma Thompson's Sense and Sensibility screenplay from Greg and Bill ("We didn't want you to get rusty," the card read); linen parchment from Hazel; lemon drops and a book on Gaelic runes from Dumbledore; a pair of tartan plaid house shoes from Minerva; homemade treacle fudge from Hagrid ("It's the wizarding world's version of fruit cake," she noted to Crookshanks); a leather-bound copy of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall from Remus; chocolates from Sirius; catnip-stuffed toy mice from Sprout, Hooch, and Pomfrey; a beautiful little appointment book from Flitwick.

But there had to be… "Crookshanks, give me that," she said, taking the tiny scroll out from between his paws.

"Meow!"

"Here," she said, "play with that." She tossed him a ribbon, which he contentedly began to shred.

She broke the seal, already smiling. Unrolling the parchment, she saw written, Come to the fireplace and say my name. She looked at her cat. "Apparently Severus has something up his sleeve for Christmas."

She got ready quickly, putting on jeans and the reindeer jumper Bill had sent to her (when he'd told her about it, she couldn't resist) and pulling her unruly hair back into a ponytail. She picked up her gifts for Severus from the blue chair, stood before the fireplace, and said, "Severus." The flames went green, and she stepped through…

She arrived in his room to see him waiting for her, a silver and green muffler around his neck. She smiled. "I see you got my present," she said, teasing.

"Hmm," he replied. "I see you're quite in the Christmas spirit." He cast a disapproving glance at her reindeer. She laughed. "And are those for me as well?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at the packages she carried. She nodded, coming towards him. "Don't tell me--gloves and a hat to match?"

"No, silly," she said, drawing close. "But Harry did find some Gryffindor gloves for me this year--I can ask him where he bought…"

He kissed her.

"Come here," she said, "and open your real presents."

Taking a seat with her on the sofa, he noted, "I'm quite fond of my scarf, thank you very much." She was nervous; he had been difficult to shop for ("Not surprisingly," she had thought, during her fifth hour in Diagon Alley). But he was pleased with the volume of Byron ("You said you hadn't read much of him."), and when he opened the set of five hand-blown vials, each ornately twisted and cast in a different color, deep and rich, like jewels, he was silent, simply running his fingers along each one in turn. "They are lovely," he finally said. "Exquisite. Like you."

He moved away before she could kiss him, and returned with two packages of his own. Raising an eyebrow, he said, "I believe…this one first," and held out his left hand.

She opened the wrapping to find two books tied together with dark green ribbon. The top was a gorgeous leather-bound edition of A Christmas Carol, and the other, the first single-volume edition of Emma. "These are beautiful! I'm afraid to open them."

"What good will they do you closed?" he said, mocking her gently. "And now…this one." He held out his right hand to reveal a small, square box--black, with a red ribbon on top.

Opening it, she gasped. Against the black velvet lay a pendant: a small, round, perfect diamond suspended from a slender gold chain. She looked at him, wide-eyed. He seemed nervous. "Severus…" she began.

"Do you like it?" he asked, and genuinely seemed not to know the answer.

"I love it," she said, and hugged him tightly. "But you didn't have to buy me a diamond…"

"I know I didn't," he said simply. "I wanted to."

Extricating himself from her embrace, he said, "Let me put it on you." She turned her back to him and held her hair out of the way as he put the chain around her neck.

"It really is beautiful," she said, holding the stone between her fingers. "I'm afraid I'll break it."

"I added a charm," he said as she turned back to him. "I don't think even Hagrid could break it."

She smiled. "Leave it to you to think of everything." She kissed his cheek. "What's wrong?" she asked, seeing that he still looked anxious.

"I…I will understand, if you choose not to wear it all of the time. We've been fairly safe from the gossips to this point, but…"

"Nonsense." Hermione gave him a look that told him the subject was closed. "The gossips can deal with it. Unless…" she looked at him, now unsure. "Unless you don't want me to…"

"I do."

"Thank you," she said, and, taking the ends of his Slytherin scarf, pulled his lips to hers.

The only meal in the Great Hall that day would be dinner. There were fewer students staying at Hogwarts this year than the previous. Last year, parents had wanted their kids safe within the school walls; now, they wanted them home. There were enough students staying that dinner would be at the house tables, rather than the more intimate setting of Hermione's seventh year, but not so many that breakfast and lunch couldn't be held in the common rooms.

Hermione had spent the rest of the morning with Severus; she was going to lunch in Hogsmeade. Harry would be there in time for lunch, and Ron was coming later that afternoon, as soon as Mrs. Weasley would let him go.

She had asked Severus if he minded her leaving him alone, and he told her that he was having lunch with Dumbledore and McGonagall. "Besides," he added, "though I may not…like…some of your friends, I respect the fact that they are your friends. And you should see them for Christmas."

As she climbed the stairs from the dungeon to meet Remus for the walk to Hogsmeade, she added to herself, "And I get to spend this evening with you."

Harry opened the door to the cottage and hugged both of them before letting either one inside. Once in, he took their coats while Sirius brought in mugs of cider on a tray. Taking their seats, Sirius and Remus fell to discussing a letter Remus had received from an old school friend, while Harry and Hermione started to catch up.

"I heard about your breakthrough," Harry said. "At work, nobody can stop talking about it. They reckon you'll get a first class Order of Merlin out of it, for sure."

"I'm just glad it's over," Hermione said. "I know research can take a while, but it feels like we've been working on that potion forever."

"What'll you do now? Work on Imperius?"

"We're starting to study for that, and we've got to write up an article--and about a dozen reports for the Ministry--on the stuff we've just finished. This term, I think we're going to focus on Remus, though."

"Did I hear my name?" Remus interjected.

"Hermione's just telling me that she and Snape are going to work on the Wolfsbane this term."

Remus smiled. "Oh yes, and she assures me that she's going to put me through the wringer, as it were. I suppose I should be glad she's on the project now, since her bedside manner's much better than Snape's."

He winked at Hermione, but Sirius snorted. "That ain't all they're working on, I'd wager," he muttered, and moved to the kitchen.

"Sirius…" A warning. He rose and followed.

Harry turned to Hermione, confused, and saw that she looked nervous. "What was that about?" She sighed. Now Harry was worried. "Is something wrong? What else are you working on?"

Hermione shook her head. "He means…well, there's something I haven't told you. I meant to…it's just…well, we've been busy. And…and I'm not sure what you're going to say when I tell you. I guess I was putting it off…waiting until I could see you and explain. Harry…"

"You're seeing Snape."

Hermione was astonished. "How did you…?"

"Well," Harry said, "I guess I didn't know for sure until now. But I guess I've been there since the beginning--since you started working with him as a student. I've seen your eyes light up when you get a letter from him, and how, when you do manage to write, you mention his name a hundred times. And when you started school this year, when you told me you had gone to visit Snape before coming here for dinner, you…well, you blushed. And you were really happy. Remus always tells me that you and Snape are getting along--that you're always together. I just put the pieces together. Learned that from you," he smiled.

"So you're…ok with it?" Hermione couldn't believe it.

Harry looked at her for a moment. "Are you happy, Hermione?"

"I am. We're happy."

"Then that's all that matters to me. Though…you won't be mad if I still don't like him much, will you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

"Sirius, I've asked you…"

"I know, I know," Sirius interrupted. "Remus, I know. And I promise--no scenes. It doesn't mean I have to like it, though, and Harry deserves to know."

"Shh. They'll hear you." Remus looked out into the front room, but Harry and Hermione were still talking. "Sirius, I'm not asking you to like it. I'm not asking you to like Snape, for the sake of the Gods. I'm just asking you not to give the girl a hard time. She loves him."

"And you love her," Sirius countered.

Remus shook his head. "No. I don't. I was…am…attracted to her. But I'm not what she wants--not what she needs." At the look on Sirius's face, he clapped a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, old friend. Really."

Sirius made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a woof. But he nodded. "Ok. If you say so. But if he harms one hair on her head…"

Remus smiled. "I know. And I'll help you. But right now I'm more worried for Snape's safety. Ron still doesn't know, after all."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas…"

After lunch, the four friends sat by fire, drinking eggnog and telling stories. Harry told the tale of the mountain troll in the girls' bathroom ("Hermione's first lie. She learned it from us," he said proudly), and Sirius topped that one with a story about meeting up with a Werewolf in the Forbidden Forest on one of their monthly adventures.

"Of course, for a while there, we weren't sure which Werewolf was on our side!"

He laughed loudly, and Remus looked a little embarrassed. "Yes, well, you should have known it was me when I refrained from biting your tail completely off."

They were all laughing when the fire in the grate turned green. "Here he comes!" said Harry.

True enough, Ron walked out of the fire, shaking off ashes, with an irritated look on his face. "Crazy woman," he muttered. "She actually reminded me to bring my toothbrush." Setting his bag down, he smiled. "Hey all! Happy Christmas!" He shook hands with Remus and Sirius, then hugged Harry and Hermione (though the last was a bit awkward) before taking the chair Sirius pulled over from the table.

"My Gods, it's good to be here. Mum's gone mad! We're all in for the holiday, but she's redone Fred and George's room as a sitting room, so there's even less space than there was. She's got Ginny sleeping on the sofa, which means she's a sitting duck for whatever pranks anybody decides to play on her. Last night we were all up at three in the morning because George decided to charm an old bathrobe of his and send it down there after her. She was screaming bloody murder!"

As they all laughed at the thought of nine Weasleys home for Christmas, Harry said, "Just like old times, eh?"

Ron's smiled faded just a hint. "Yeah, Harry. Just like old times."

Harry and Ron saw each other fairly regularly, but still had things to catch up on, and Quidditch to discuss. Ron wanted to hear all the news everybody else had already shared too, so Remus, Sirius, and Hermione wound up repeating themselves. Hermione waited for Sirius to make another crack, but he didn't. Finally, she saw Remus catch Sirius's eye, and they headed to the kitchen. "I'll put another kettle on, right?" Sirius said, nodding at Hermione.

Harry took the hint too, and said, "Ron, Hermione's got some more news…"

Ron replied, "What, have you solved global warming as well, then?"

Hermione swallowed, and looked at Harry, who nodded. "Well," she began, "I…that is, well, I've been seeing someone." She knew she was a coward for not saying the name, but she hoped that Ron would take it from there.

"Really," said Ron, confused, "but who…not Remus, is it? I always said you were going to wind up dating a professor."

Hermione shook her head. "No, Ron, it's not Remus…but it is a professor." She still couldn't bring herself to say his name; she was afraid "Severus" would set Ron over the edge, but "Snape" seemed too cold.

Ron thought for a moment, and then the look on his face turned to ice.

"Bloody hell," he said, but quietly. "I can't believe it." He stood up and walked towards the door.

"Ron," Hermione said gently, "Ron, please, let me explain."

"Just…just give me a minute, will you?" Ron left, closing the door softly behind him.

"Excuse me," said Harry. "I'll be right back." He opened the door. "And don't you go anywhere, either."

Ron wasn't sure what he felt. He guessed he shouldn't be surprised. He'd always had a feeling. All those hours she spent, working with…Snape. "Bloody Snape," he said to himself.

FWUMP.

A cold, wet snowball hit the back of Ron's head. "Hey!" he shouted. Turning around, he saw Harry armed with another one. "You crazy git, what do you think you're doing? That's cold, that is!"

"I know," said Harry calmly, and let fly.

Ron dodged, barely. "What're you on about, Harry?" He was starting to get mad.

"What are you on about, Ron?" Harry asked, coming a little closer. "For over a year now I've put up with your moods, your silence, your refusal to talk about…well, pretty much anything other than Quidditch. I don't know what's going on with you. And then you come here, acting like the Ron we used to know, happy to see us, complaining about your family, and then, the minute Hermione mentions Snape, you just shut down."

"She's done more than mention him, Harry, she's dating him. Do you get that? She's dating Snape!"

"I get it, Ron. But do you get how happy she is? Look at her. She pretty much lights up the room."

Ron was silent, kicking at the snow with the toe of his shoe.

"Is it that you want us all to be as miserable as you, or is that you've just forgotten how to be happy yourself?" Harry asked gently. "Because really, I don't get it."

Ron turned away, and Harry thought he'd gone too far. Then Ron said, quietly, "I don't know. I just feel like…like I'm not good enough. Like I never have been. Like I'm always one step behind. I can't explain it; I know I've been an ass. I just…"

Harry crossed in front of Ron. "Ron, you have always been good enough for us. And you've always been an ass. But we love you."

The two friends hugged tightly, and then Ron said, "I get it. Now get off, will you?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione." Ron stared at the carpet. Hermione came to him and hugged him. He tensed, for a moment, and then hugged her in return. "I've been a real bastard to you, I know it. I'm sorry."

Smiling at Harry over his shoulder, Hermione said, "Yes you have. But I love you anyway."

A/N: The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is by Anne Brontë. Hermione's reindeer jumper is a nod to Bridget Jones's Diary. A Christmas Carol is by Charles Dickens; Emma is by Jane Austen, and was originally published in three volumes. While I've used the line "it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas" in an ironic fashion as long as I can remember, I should note that Aaron Sorkin does it as well in his screenplay for The American President. Probably that's where I learned it, after all. :)

On to Chapter 14