A/N: Yes, it's a little late for Christmas fic, but this just popped fully formed into my head today, so I hope that you will all excuse its lateness. Also, before the story begins, I would like to clear up something that has earned me flames on my work in the past: I do not hate James Potter or the rest of the Marauders, nor am I necessarily a Snape/Lily shipper. This story is merely written from Severus's point of view, and I have tried to make that view as accurate and in-character as possible.

That being said, happy belated holidays, thank you for reading, and please enjoy!

The winter wind was particularly bitingly cold that year, and fifteen-year-old Severus knew it all too well. He wished that he could quicken his pace, but the chill, unforgiving as it was, was still more appealing than the prospect of slipping on the treacherous, snow-covered black ice and breaking a leg in the middle of the nearly deserted street.

Muttering, he grabbed one side of his coat and stuffed his gloveless hand into the opposite armpit, pulling the coat more tightly around himself and warming his hand at the same time. He had been passing the gift that he held from hand to hand periodically over the course of his walk, unable to keep both hands warm at the same time for fear of damaging the thin newspaper that he had had to use to wrap it. The coat was not his warmest, but, despite its being several sizes too large for him, it was the best-looking one he owned, and the only coat he ever dared to wear within fifty paces of the Evans house, given his experience with the always-watchful eye of that little harpy, Petunia. Mutual loathing kept each of them on constant alert for any sign of the other's presence, but she would manage to slip in without being caught from time to time and proceed to provide both him and Lily with a scathing critique of every visible inch of him.

He switched the gift to his other hand and jammed the frozen one into his coat as the lighted windows of the Evans house came into view around a bend. Unlike his own home, which remained as dark and undecorated at Christmastime as it did throughout the rest of the year due to both the lack of electricity in the place and his father's wishes, the Evans family's brick house was hung with what looked like hundreds of red, green, and gold lights, bordering each window and strung around the gutters on the roof. Even from a distance, he could see the expected plump evergreen tree in the sitting room, its branches heavy with more lights and covered by a swarm of little coloured balls. A smile tugged at his frozen lips as he remembered the first Christmas season he had been invited to share at the Evans house, that happy first year of his time at Hogwarts. He remembered the way Lily had begged her parents to let the two of them decorate the tree together, the way she had smiled and shown him how to hang up the ornaments when he admitted that he had never done it before, the feeling of her gently guiding his fingers with her own as she demonstrated how to make use of the tiny metal hooks that supported each little ball.

This year, however, it appeared she had been perfectly capable of doing the job on her own.

Trying not to think about what that might mean, Severus risked life and limb and broke into a slow jog to reach the front porch, where he pressed the doorbell with a frozen finger and shifted his weight from foot to foot in a fruitless attempt to keep warm. Luckily, the door did not take long to open, and he smiled again as he took in the sight of familiar flaming red hair and bright green eyes.

"Sev!" Lily exclaimed delightedly. "What are you doing here? Oh, you'd better come in; it's freezing," she added, taking him by the arm and guiding him inside before he could make his usual protest. As he stepped in, Severus was distracted from his enjoyment of the blissful warmth when he noticed another familiar face around the doorway to the sitting room; one that he was not quite as glad to see.

"What's he doing here?" he muttered, jerking his head towards the form of James Potter, who was seated on the sofa in the adjacent room and trying very hard to look as though he was interested in anything besides the black-haired boy at the front door.

Lily's smile dimmed a little.

"Don't be like that, Sev," she murmured back, brushing some snow from the shoulder of his overlarge brown coat. "Please? It's almost Christmas. Can't you just say hello to him for once?"

Severus shifted his weight again, considering.

"Hullo, James," he finally muttered, giving a curt nod in the general direction of the sitting room.

"Hi, Sniv- Severus," James replied in a similar tone, closely inspecting the Christmas tree from his spot on the sofa.

There was a beat of silence before Lily rolled her eyes and sighed.

"That'll do, I suppose," she said.

"What's he doing here?" Severus repeated. It worried him when a touch of pink appeared on Lily's freckled cheeks.

"Look, I invited him over for supper. He mentioned he'd like to see how Muggles do Christmas, and I thought it might be fun, so…" When he continued to look at her, she blushed more deeply and, with a quick glance in James's direction, whispered, "You know I like him, Sev."

Something cold blossomed in the pit of Severus's stomach despite the warmth of the room.

"Yes," he said, "though I'm still having trouble figuring out why. You called him an arrogant toerag yourself," he muttered defensively when she shot him one of her rare sharp looks.

"Yes, well," she said, "that was a long time ago, and if anyone should be able to understand that two people can be different when they're alone, it's you."

Effectively silenced, Severus shoved his free hand into his pocket and toyed with the fraying hole at the bottom.

"Anyway," Lily continued more gently, tucking a strand of red hair behind one ear, "did you want something?"

Severus had almost forgotten the skinny box in his hand.

"Right," he said, holding it out to her. "I know it's a few days early, but I didn't think your family would want me here on Christmas Eve, so… here. I'm sorry about the wrapping," he added, suddenly embarrassed by the Daily Prophet pages that he had Spellotaped around the box. He felt his face heat up a little as it occurred to him that James was undoubtedly watching them from the other room. James Potter, with his pristine, practically gleaming school books and his freshly-tailored robes at the start of each school year. "It was all I-"

"Don't worry about it," she said as she accepted the box from him, tactfully cutting off his "-could afford". "Really, Sev, it's more than enough that you got me anything. You know I don't expect you to."

"I know, but it's Christmas, and I want to," he said. "Go on, open it."

Obligingly, she tore off the newspaper to reveal a slim black box with "Flourish and Blotts" embossed in gold lettering on the top. He grinned when she gasped upon lifting the lid.

"You didn't," she said, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Of course I did," he replied. "You've spent every Hogsmeade visit this year staring at it."

Resting on a rectangle of cotton inside the box was a magnificent quill pen with a precisely trimmed white feather and a gold nib, on which "L.E." was ornately engraved.

"Do you like it?" Severus asked. He very much wanted her to—otherwise, he had spent several months secretly selling various potions to his classmates for naught.

She carefully replaced the lid and beamed up at him.

"I love it, Sev; thank you so much."

To his surprise, she hugged him firmly despite James's proximity.

"I can't believe you noticed. Have I told you lately that you're a wonderful friend?" she asked happily as she released him.

Friend, he thought resignedly even as he made himself smile back at her. It was nothing more than what he had come to understand over the past few months, but it was somehow still difficult to hear her say it in front of Potter, to realize that the hug she had given him was proof that she believed that James would never consider him a threat.

"No, not lately," he replied softly. "Look, I'd better go."

Her smiled faded a bit.

"Oh, don't, not yet," she insisted. "You've barely even thawed from the walk here, and I've got your Christmas present upstairs. Can't you stay awhile? I could get you something warm to drink, and my mum and dad wouldn't mind at all if you stayed for supper." When he remained silent, she dropped her voice a little and added, "He really is a nice person once you get to know him a little better. Maybe if you talked to him away from those friends of his…"

She trailed off and gave him a supplicating look, but he shook his head slowly, knowing that while her intentions were good, she was wrong. He and James Potter were firmly seated on either end of the personality spectrum, and no matter how badly he wanted to make Lily happy, he knew that no good could come of keeping James and himself in the same room for any extended period. Besides, the last thing he needed was for Petunia to offer Potter—and, by extension, his little band of admirers—even more ammunition when it came to tormenting him.

"I'm sorry, Lil," he said. "My mum's expecting me for supper. We'll see each other after Christmas, won't we?"

She sighed.

"Yes, I suppose we will," she agreed. Standing on the tips of her toes, she gave him another firm hug and a light peck on the cheek that made his face warm again. "You'll be careful walking home, won't you? It's dark already, and the streets are slippery."

"I'll be careful," he assured her as she let him go. "I'll see you soon, all right? Have fun tonight. Really," he added when she made a frustrated noise. "Happy Christmas, Lil."

He opened the door and let himself out onto the snowy front porch. He jammed both hands into his pockets the moment the first blast of cold air hit him. If anything, it was even chillier than before, and big, fat snowflakes had begun to tumble from the sky. Within moments of stepping outside, his hair went from jet black to salt-and-pepper, and he was forced to blink rapidly as the flakes caught on his eyelashes.

"Happy Christmas, Sev," Lily said as he stepped off the porch.

The cold from the snow on the front lawn leeched gleefully into his thin boots as he walked away.