Nutmeg and Cream
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Author's Note: A plot bunny bit me while I was reading Chapter 5 of Forever Then Some's spectacular work, Mistletoe. And so, Nutmeg and Cream. Did I mention I'm a diehard Snarry fan? Even so, this is my first Snarry piece. And it's Snarry fluff! Anyway, enjoy. Thanks to Breanna Tala for betaing--go read her stuff too. She's good. And Merry Christmas to you all! When I'm not being smothered by the materialistic idiocy attached to the celebration of the birth of a deity I don't believe in, I enjoy the season.
Severus Snape hated Christmas. He always had, and he suspected he always would. When he was younger, it had been because everyone was so dismally cheerful all the time. The noise in the corridors at Hogwarts was deafening, and nothing could keep the children in line.
Now, however, with gray touching his temples, the youngest Headmaster of Hogwarts did not mind the children so much; perhaps he had lost some of his hearing due to the prolonged exposure to the heightened decibels of a castle full of excitable children. No, the reason he hated Christmas now was that every year, without fail, the young Defense Against the Dark Arts professor got at the egg nog.
Rolling his eyes at the inane giggles issuing from the slender form of Professor Potter, Severus settled back with his own glass of the holiday drink. He had consumed as much as Potter, and while he wasn't even tipsy yet, the younger man was full-blown drunk. The day he met someone who could not easily drink Potter under the table would likely be the day that hell froze over, Voldemort returned from the grave to pass out flowers, and Dumbledore poked his head out from whatever hole he'd built himself in the afterlife to declare that he had determined that Severus Snape himself was the supreme deity.
"Mistletoe!"
Severus sighed; he had no idea who put up the mistletoe every year, but Harry always found it with the same wide-eyed excitement.
"Sev, there's mistletoe!"
The sixty year old Headmaster gave in to the inevitable and walked over to his lover of more than fifteen years.
"Yes, Harry, there's mistletoe."
"Well?" The brat looked up at him, turning his head coyly from side to side.
"You really cannot hold your liquor, Mr. Potter," Severus said briskly. "At least you only manage to get your hands on anything stronger than a butterbeer once a year."
"Well?" That mouth, still so tempting after a decade and a half and more, was turning petulant. "Aren't you going to kiss me?"
Severus chuckled slightly, pulling the younger man into a gentle embrace. Tilting that emerald eyed face up towards his, he lowered his lips to that pout in a comfortable, loving kiss.
Severus Snape loved Christmas. Every year, under the mistletoe, Harry tasted like nutmeg and cream.
Author's Note: This is a Christmas one-shot. There will be no more, so don't ask for more. Just enjoy your present and maybe give me the wonderful gift of reviews!