Chapter 1 ~ Assignment

"No. Absolutely not, Minerva. It's Christmas holiday," Snape declared from his chair as he sat in front of the Headmistress. "I should be brewing during the lull of dunderheads streaming through my classroom."

"Severus, this isn't a request," Minerva replied, her black eyes hard as she looked at her Potions master. "You should jump at the chance to travel and to be of assistance. Many people would kill for this opportunity."

"Then send one of them," Snape hissed bad-naturedly. "I'd kill not to go."

"Severus, I've already said you would do the escort, and you will."

Snape folded his arms sullenly.

"But don't worry, you won't be going it alone," Minerva said "Although they'll be no trouble, I thought you wouldn't mind company."

"It is trouble and I do mind company. Blast it, Minerva, every year at this time of year I'm sent on ridiculous missions, or find myself embroiled in some unlikely situation. It's as if it's all plotted out . . . "

"Don't be silly, Severus. You're imagining it," Minerva said soothingly as the office door behind him slowly opened.

"I'm telling you, Minerva . . . something is . . . arrrgh! No! This is EXACTLY what I'm talking about!"

Charms mistress Hermione Granger, who had just walked into professor Snape's line of sight, huffed up immediately with indignation at the distasteful way Snape was looking at her, as if she'd stepped in and were tracking troll shit through the office. She was dressed in a heavy wool coat, thick scarf, ear muffs, a warm cap, gloves, woolen pants and fur-lined boots.

"What's wrong with you?" she demanded, taking the chair beside him, her brown eyes narrowed.

"Nothing a transfer couldn't help," he snarled back at her. "It figures you'd pop into the picture. You always seem to appear when you are least wanted."

"Happy Holidays right back at you," Hermione hissed at him sarcastically. "And for your information, I didn't exactly dance a jig when I discovered you would be my escort companion. Really, you'll be so out of place there, like a big black cloud blacking out the sun. But it's a wonderful opportunity. Not many people have been invited there."

Hermione's eyes took on an excited gleam, which only served to piss Snape off even more.

"Minerva . . ." he began in protest, but the Headmistress held out her hand to stop him.

"You're going, Severus, and that's final. They're waiting in the entrance hall, ready to leave. You will stay with them for the next two days. Accommodations have been arranged."

Hermione clasped her hands together.

"Oh, I can't wait," she gushed as Severus brought one pale hand to his belly, suddenly feeling quite nauseous.

Snape quickly descended the staircases, his robes billowing. But Hermione managed to keep up with him despite his speed. His face was in its usual scowl, but there seemed to be several extra lines of annoyance. If there weren't, they were quickly added when he looked upon what awaited them in the entrance hall. Hermione's exclamation of "Oh, aren't they adorable?" didn't help one iota.

"No. They aren't," Snape snapped as they descended the marble staircase to the main floor. A group of twenty House Elves happily bobbed and weaved as they approached, grinning horrendously, adorned in green white trimmed hats with poofball on the ends, little green vests and curly toed shoes, just for the occasion.

Hermione walked up to them, looking a bit surprised.

"Clothes?" she asked.

"Oh no, Miss. Not clothes. Costumes. We is still in Hogwarts' service," it squeaked. "But is very excited. Very excited indeed."

All the House Elves chattered in agreement, hopping about annoyingly. Snape looked at them down his nose as long as he could stand it, then bellowed, "Be still, damn it!"

All of the House Elves huddled around Hermione, looking at Snape with terror. She put her arms around a couple of them and scowled blackly at the Potions master.

"You scared them," she declared accusingly.

"They're lucky that all I did to them, hopping about like hobgoblins. Let's go. The sooner we get there, the sooner we'll get back."

Snape unceremoniously strode to the door and through it without looking back.

"Come along, now. Stay together and hold hands. We have to get off the grounds to Apparate," Hermione said, herding the House Elves out the main doors.

Snape looked back and saw Hermione herding the House Elves along, for all the world looking like a caretaker of demonic nursery school pupils, the Elves hopping and skipping like children. He pinched the bridge of his nose and hurried toward the main gate. He wasn't looking forward to this trip at ALL. How did Minerva get him into these blasted situations?

He should quit. Right now. Just . . . walk.

The chittering of happy House Elves reached his ears and he frowned even blacker.

"Wait, Severus! We all need to hold hands," Hermione called as he walked through the gate. Snape turned and gave her an "over my dead body" look and Disapparated.

"Honestly," Hermione snorted as all the House Elves looked relieved. Not one of them had wanted to hold the Snape's hand. He might do something very nasty.

They Disapparated.

Hermione and the Elves reappeared in a pure white and chilly valley. Snape was standing a few feet ahead with his back facing them, his severe black robes making him look like a huge cinder in the snow covered landscape.

He was staring in horrified amazement at the scene before him. It looked as if someone had gone mad and broke into a Christmas shop. There were several wooden cabins covered in garlands, ornaments, lights, wreaths and candy canes. Indiscriminately placed strings of brightly flashing Christmas lights connected them together, and several pine trees, which didn't even belong this far above the snow line, were garishly decorated. The whole place reeked of pine, sweets and the gods knew what else. Smoke curled happily from chimneys and the windows were glazed with ice, winking in iridescent colors because of the light streaming behind the panes. It was enough to send the average person into seizures.

"Oh! Oh, we're here! Father Christmas' workshop! Come on!" Hermione cried. She and the House Elves charged the biggest cabin, snow flying in their wake as they ran. Hermione fell face first in the snow and was trampled by the House Elves on her heels. Snape smirked as she spluttered and complained, her face hitting the snow again and again as soft green feet stepped on her head.

At last, there was something was funny about this situation.

Snape watched as they entered the cabin. He heard a scream, followed by an even louder scream, then walked slowly to the still opened door.

He looked inside to see a stout, white haired old woman with rosy cheeks dressed in a holly berry covered dress and a holiday apron standing on top of a toy-strewn work bench. She was screaming and swinging an unsanded cricket bat at the Elves as Hermione tried to calm her down. The woman was terrified.

"Apparently, Mrs. Claus has never seen a House Elf before," Snape mused, entering the toy shop, bits of crusted snow dropping from the hem of his robes.

"Mrs. Claus! These are the House Elves from Hogwarts. They're here to fill in and finish making the toys for the holiday," Hermione cried at the woman, who kept swinging.

"I knew you'd show back up here one day! Nicholas doesn't run with the likes of you anymore! Now, get out of my workshop!" Mrs. Claus yelled.

Snape looked on, quite amused as Hermione managed to calm Mrs. Claus down. Apparently, this was a case of mistaken identity.

"Oh, I thought they were . . . well, there was a time in Nicholas' life when he ran with the –the wrong sort," Mrs. Claus explained as Hermione helped her into a chair. "They kind of looked like—like them. But . . . Nicholas has spent the past 400 years making up for his –indiscretions."

"Oh, I see," Hermione agreed, looking a little aghast. "These are House Elves, not—er—imps."

For a while there, St. Nick was known for snatching children and leaving only their pajama bottoms behind. Why he started giving them toys was a mystery.

Maybe it had something to do with the pajama bottoms.

Suddenly, Mrs. Claus pointed at Snape, more horror on her chubby features.

"It's the Reaper!" she exclaimed.

"No, it's worse than that. That's professor Severus Snape, the Potions master from Hogwarts," Hermione replied with a smirk as Snape scowled at her, then crossed the room and gave Mrs. Claus a polite bow.

"My pleasure, Mrs. Claus," he purred.

The old woman blinked at the smooth, rich sound of his voice and warmed immediately.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she smiled at him, standing up and smoothing her apron.

"Would you like some cookies, professor?" she asked him, her eyelashes fluttering.

"I'd be delighted," he replied.

Mrs. Claus flounced off, not offering Hermione or the House Elves anything but her bum as she hurried away. Snape's black eyes shifted toward Hermione.

"Cookies. Just for me. Hmm. I think I'm going to like it here," he purred.

A/N: Something that popped in my head. Writing was like pulling teeth though. My muse is still MIA. Sigh. But thanks for reading. ***