"The Gift"

Summary: Harry, the new DADA professor, drew Snape's name for the staff's Secret Santa gift exchange. What will Harry give him? And how will this change their relationship?

Warnings: Snarry. Don't like, don't read.

Disclaimer: Whatever you recognize, I don't own.

Chapter One

"So… who did you get?" Ron asked, in between gulps of butterbeer.

Ron was referring to the Hogwarts Staff "Secret Santa" name-drawing which took place earlier that day.

"Take a guess," Harry said dryly.

"Oh no, Dungeon Bat?" Ron groaned.

"Don't call him that," Harry responded quickly. "But yeah, I got him." He sighed heavily, drained his first bottle, and signaled Rosmerta for another.

"Bloody Hell, Harry… Well, is that a tradition or something new Dumbledore came up with?"

"It's a new idea. He thinks that with the war heating up that we could all use some extra "good cheer". He insisted that we take this seriously and give a gift that would bring "the upmost joy" to the recipient. How am I supposed to bring joy to a man who never smiles, never laughs? And of all the staff, I had to be the one to draw his name. He hates me. The only thing I've seen give him anything resembling close to joy is Slytherin beating Gryffindor for the House Cup and any excuse to insult or hex me…" Harry trailed off as the seed of an idea began to take root.

Ron snorted. "He's always hated you more than the rest of us Lions. Always quicker to blame you and give detention to you."

"Yeah…" Harry agreed, only half paying attention to what Ron said. He drank his butterbeer but didn't notice the flavor.

"- git."

Harry blinked as he became aware of the word that was spoken. "What was that?"

Ron frowned. "Nothing. Just called him a git for how he's treated you."

Harry sighed. "Don't call him that."

"Why not?" Ron asked defensively. "You said yourself that he hasn't talked to you all year unless he's criticizing you."

"Yes, but it's not like when we were students. He's helping me to become a better professor. It would be nice if he wasn't so mean-sounding, and yes, I've complained about that, but he's been right. Most of the time, at least. He's not mean just to be mean. Unless you count the time he insulted my choice of pants. You know, the tight ones that Hermione and Luna insisted on when they helped me go clothes shopping? He wouldn't stop glaring at me and his insults were especially creative that day." Harry huffed in frustration at the memory. "But he was right about the first, and second, textbook I proposed, my first four drafts of lesson plans, and well, everything he's ever said about teaching. Yes, he does seem to enjoy finding fault with me, but how can I criticize him for telling me the truth and making me better?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "He doesn't have to be mean. And he's not your boss, Dumbledore is. So, I still say he's a git."

Harry decided not to argue over the point. "Enough about that. Tell me about Auror training."

Ron happily prattled on for half an hour about work and then, at Harry's prompting, the latest news on the Weasley clan. By then they had drained their bottles of butterbeer. Rosmerta asked them if they wanted another as she came around, but after checking the time they declined and paid the bill. Ron had a date with Hermione and Harry needed to hurry back to Hogwarts for dinner.

The two friends said their goodbyes, Harry asked Ron to pass on his greetings to Hermione and the Weasleys, and they parted ways.

Harry mounted his broom and flew back to Hogwarts, dismounting in order to pass through the gates to Hogwarts grounds on foot, and then he was back on his broom until he reached the castle. He raced to the entrance of the Great Hall, cursing himself for not paying attention to the time while out with Ron, but slowed down his pace just before he entered the Hall. He strode down the Hall alongside the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables, trying not to look like a student who had arrived late for class. Halfway to the staff table he noticed Snape's eyes boring into him. He tried to pretend not to notice. There was only one empty seat - between Snape and Hagrid.

"You are late, Potter," the ebony-eyed man stated, as if Harry didn't know.

"Yes, well, I had an appointment that took longer than anticipated." True, drinking butterbeer with Ron wasn't an appointment per se but it was a scheduled visit and they did stay out later than Harry had planned.

"Oh?" Snape asked, with an eyebrow raised in disbelief. "Whoever would you have an appointment with this evening? It clearly was not with a student or staff member, as the rest of us were here on time."

Harry started to defend himself but Snape cut him off. "I really do not care where you were drinking butterbeer - yes, I can smell it - or with whom. All I care about is you being a good role model for the students."

Snape looked away from Harry and returned to his dinner.

Harry took a couple of careful breaths. He forced a smile on his face, greeted Hagrid, and began to scoop pot roast and potatoes onto his plate.

"Do not be late tomorrow."

The dark voice wasn't as stern as before but still had the same effect on Harry. His heart, which had finally started to calm, picked up speed again. He tried to focus on fixing his plate as a way to remain calm. "What's tomorrow?" Harry asked, not sure if Snape was referring to meals in general or to some other event in particular.

When Snape didn't answer Harry turned his head and found ebony eyes boring into him with even greater intensity than before.

"Do not tell me you've forgotten."

Harry swallowed nervously. He looked away and instantly the sight of Yule trees jogged his memory. "Well, if you're talking about tomorrow morning, after breakfast, of course I haven't forgotten." He smiled and turned to look back at the Potions Master, whose expression hadn't changed. "I am signed up to help escort the first years to the train station," Harry finished, proud and relieved that he remembered in time to save face.

Snape nodded curtly. "See that you are on time. And I will know if you are not, as I have the same duty." The corner of his mouth quirked. "After all, someone has to keep an eye on you."

Snape turned away and didn't talk to Harry again nor spared him a look. It was just as well. Harry didn't think he could handle his nerves to be more frazzled than they already were. He spent the rest of dinner time enjoying his roast beef and vegetables, visiting with Hagrid, and taking in the festive view of Yule trees, candles, wreaths, and other decorations. He thought about his first truly happy Christmas day, which was his first year at Hogwarts, his plans to spend some of the holidays at the Weasley's, and other happy memories and plans. He didn't allow his mind to linger on the Secret Santa gift and the man whose name he had drawn.

Later that night, alone in his quarters, Harry finally allowed himself to consider the idea he had for Snape. He would allow Snape to insult and hex him however he liked, without resistance, without fighting back. Snape could relive the days when he could assign dreadful detentions to the Boy Who Lived To Make Him Miserable. Snape could hurt and humiliate him however he liked.

Harry knew he wouldn't tell anyone, anyone, about this. He knew that no one would understand. He wasn't a masochist. It's just that he really wanted to make Snape happy, and this seemed the best way to do it.

Besides, it's not as if he wouldn't be getting anything out of it. Snape would pay attention to him, would look at him like that. His eyes would flash with fire. And while it wouldn't be with fire of desire, Harry would take what he could get.

He fell asleep, feeling lonely, wishing that he hadn't fallen for the Potions Master, a man who would never look upon him with favor. He dreamt of a silky voice in his ear, telling him how delightfully wicked his tight pants were, pale hands grabbing his arse, and of a groin just as hot and hard as his, pushing up against him.