Chapter 7 ~ On Notice

As Snape removed his cloak and draped it across the nightstand, Hermione said softly, "Severus, do you think magic is involved here?"

He turned back toward her.

"Unless you stealthily placed a lust spell on me, no," he replied. "This is the result of secret attraction on both our parts. Good food, good spirits and good company simply brought it out of us."

"I'm not normally so . . . forward," Hermione said stubbornly as Snape went at his own robe buttons, not wishing to waste too much time.

Snape opened his robes, revealing his slender build. Hermione balked as she saw he only wore a pair of briefs beneath them. A pair of very tented briefs. Her eyes quickly jerked up to his face.

"Um, didn't you have clothes on underneath your robes while we were in the cabin with Mrs. Claus?" she managed to get out, starting to back away. But Snape grabbed her and gently pulled her against him.

"That was just for decorum," Snape replied. "I couldn't very well prance around in my skivvies, could I? Although, that would have been interesting. I never wear clothing under my robes. I need to be 'accessible' in case of injury. Clothing slows one down when immediate treatment is necessary."

"I . . . er . . . I see," Hermione wheedled. Gods, his cock was enormous, the white fabric of his underwear stretched over it to nearly bursting. That had to be uncomfortable. She felt it resting against her belly through her heavy sweater. Still, she felt a little twinge of desire. Actually, she went hot . . . and quickly.

Dear Merlin. Was this really happening?

"As to your being 'forward,' you're normally not this inebriated either," Snape said, pressing his thin lips against her temple and slowly slipping his hand under her sweater and around her waist. He could feel her soft, warm flesh beneath his fingers and pulsed helplessly at her closeness. He caressed her lower back soothingly. "And I am not normally so demonstrative with my desires, but the truth is Charms Mistress Hermione Granger, you've been working your subtle magic on me for several years now. I have to confess it began after my recovery."

He drew back and looked into her brown eyes. Hermione shook her head.

"I find that hard to believe. You've always treated me dismissively. It seems you're always trying to avoid me, or get rid of me. I shouldn't be here . . ."

"Yes, you should be. You know that," Snape replied. "But you are correct, Hermione. I did purposely act the git toward you. It was juvenile. Sour grapes. I wanted you, but knew I couldn't have you, especially when you were involved with that one-wizard train wreck Ronald Weasley. I was never more pleased when I heard you broke it off with him. It was a mismatch from the start. You were nothing more than a prize to him, the kind of prize one shows off, like a medal or trophy. You are a prize to me as well, one I selfishly covet and wouldn't share with anyone if I could help it. Believe me, witch."

"Oh, Severus," Hermione breathed. "Do you really feel that way?"

"I would never lie to you," Snape replied, "Unless it was absolutely necessary."

"Slytherin to the core," Hermione said with a soft smile as he leaned down to kiss her again.

"Always," he murmured against her lips.

Father Christmas slammed his fist down on Martin Shyster's desk, making the pens, pencils, photos and everything else on it shudder horribly.

"You're being a naughty boy, Martin!" Nicholas declared, leaning over the desk threateningly, his blue eyes flashing. "You are asking far too much for those IPods. I'm buying in bulk, you little bastard. How would you like to receive a one ton piece of coal dropped on your head for Christmas?"

Martin blinked at the red-faced, rotund man before him, cowering a bit. Father Christmas was larger than life. The executive in charge of sales was sure he hadn't been that big when he first entered the office. And, he was cursing at him. And where was his red suit? He was dressed all in black leather except for the kerchief tied around his head, which was decorated with holly, snowmen and candy canes. He looked like a biker. Besides, wasn't Father Christmas supposed to be benevolent and kind?

Obviously, not when he was making purchases.

Martin rubbed the top of his head so hard, his toupee lifted a little as he met those bloodshot blue eyes.

"Well, I suppose I could knock the price down a bit," Martin said in a small voice.

"You'll do better than that," Nicholas growled, sitting back down in the seat. "I expect thirty percent off that price, or you'll never have a good Christmas again. I haven't cast a good Christmas curse in ages . . . and it's generational."

"All right. All right. You can't blame a man for trying to make a profit," Martin said, filling out some paperwork.

"Ebenezer Scrooge tried to use that excuse, too. You know how it worked out for him," Nicholas muttered. "He was lucky. You won't be."

Martin blanched and started writing faster.

He couldn't believe he was being strong-armed by Santa.

As Nicholas sat there, there was a small flash of light by the right side of his chair. He looked down just as Martin looked over.

"Arrrgh!" Martin screamed, diving under his desk. This wasn't such a good idea because the desk was open in the front, and he could see the thing better.

"What the hell is that?" he cried, reaching over his desk and fumbling around until he found his sword-shaped letter opener. He brandished it weakly from under the desk. The front of his trousers showed a small, wet stain.

Nicholas eyed the creature.

"A House Elf? What are you doing here in Muggle America? Are you bringing a message from Hogwarts?" Nicholas inquired as the Elf bobbed apologetically.

"No sir. I comes to tell you Mrs. Claus has left the North Pole. We is in your service until the toys are completed. This is part of our service, sir," the House Elf said.

"What?" Nicholas roared. "Goody shouldn't leave the workshop, especially at this time of year. Any errand could have waited!"

The House Elf's ears flattened.

"No errand, sir. She leaves. For good," it said furtively. "Very unhappy. Very sad."

Nicholas leapt out of the chair.

"Women!" he hissed, then shook a finger at the cringing Martin, who was still under the desk, listening to the exchange, a look of horror on his face. Was that a demon?

"You have that load of IPods ready for morning pickup. I have to go," Nicholas said, pushing the chair aside and striding out of the door without a wink, nod or anything remotely Christmasy. The House Elf winked away.

"I'm really starting to hate Christmas," Martin muttered, slowly climbing up and peeking over the edge of his desk to make sure that green thing in the Christmas hat was gone.

Nicholas stormed up to the building's rooftop where his sleigh and reindeer were waiting. This was his backup team. He reached into his pouch and scattered some of the Stuff over the reindeer and sleigh. He climbed in and grabbed the reins, shaking them angrily.

"Let's go. To the Pole, boys!" he yelled.

They flashed away.

A/N: Just a little something to move the story along. Happy New Year, everyone and thanks for reading. ****