Snowflakes drifted gently beyond the frosted windows, silent and slow.
Snape held two hooded cloaks in his hands as he and Pandora stepped out of the Great Hall, heading toward the fourth floor.
"Ah-HA!"
A shrill, gleeful shriek echoed from above, startling them both.
They hadn't realized they were passing directly beneath Peeves.
The poltergeist was hanging upside down from a grand chandelier, grinning like a maniac with jagged teeth.
"Thinking of opening your mouth?" Snape asked coolly, drawing his wand and casting an unkind glance at the hovering menace.
"Loony lad and batty lass, sneaking off to—" Peeves began to screech.
But before he could finish his rhyme, Snape flicked his wand. Peeves instantly clutched his throat, face frozen in silent horror.
With a final rude gesture, the poltergeist flew from the window, incapable of uttering a single sound—his tongue now magically glued to the roof of his mouth.
Unbothered, Snape and Pandora continued their walk, arriving shortly at the statue of a hunchbacked, one-eyed witch on the fourth floor.
"Hogsmeade," Snape murmured into Pandora's ear, voice low and conspiratorial. "There's a secret passage here. It leads straight into the cellar of Honeydukes. Entrance is right under this witch's hump.
"Everyone's busy today… Want to spend Christmas in the village?"
Pandora's eyes lit up at once. Clearly, she wasn't the rule-following type.
She brushed down the front of her robes, then nodded eagerly.
Snape glanced around to ensure no one was watching. Then, wand in hand, he tapped the statue and whispered, "Dissendium."
The witch's hump swung open, revealing a narrow tunnel entrance just large enough for a slim figure to crawl through.
"You first."
After a final check of the corridor, Snape followed Pandora headfirst into the passage.
They slid a long way down what felt like a stone chute, wind rushing past their ears before landing on cold, damp soil.
Snape rose quickly, brushed the muck from his robes, and lifted his wand. "Lumos."
A narrow, low tunnel revealed itself in the faint glow.
"Follow me."
They made their way forward, winding through the passage that resembled an oversized rabbit warren. Snape's light flickered across the uneven ground, and more than once he stumbled over sunken patches of earth.
Time crawled in the darkness. What felt like an hour passed before the tunnel began to slope upward.
After another ten minutes, they arrived at the foot of a crumbling stone staircase, its top lost in shadow.
"Come on," Snape whispered.
They climbed quietly, counting the steps at first—one hundred, two hundred—until the rhythm was lost.
Then, with a dull thud, Snape smacked his head against something solid.
A trapdoor.
He paused, rubbing his forehead, and listened.
Silence.
Carefully, he pushed it open and peered through the gap.
"No one's here. They must all be out celebrating," he whispered.
The cellar was filled with crates and boxes.
Snape clambered up and extended a hand to help Pandora. Once she was through, he gently closed the trapdoor, its dusty wood blending perfectly with the grey floor.
"Here." He handed her one of the cloaks. "Better to keep your hood up, just in case."
Hoods drawn, they crept toward the wooden staircase.
At the top, they slipped through a back door and emerged behind the counter of Honeydukes.
The shop was dark and deserted.
Quiet as shadows, they moved past the displays.
"Alohomora."
The front door clicked open.
They slipped outside.
The street was calm, hushed. Only the inn near the station was lit, music and laughter spilling out in bursts that broke the evening's stillness.
"This kind of cold calls for a butterbeer," Snape said, turning to Pandora.
They pulled their cloaks tighter and hurried through the swirling wind toward the Three Broomsticks.
Frost clung to their hands by the time they arrived, ducking through the door just as a gust of snow chased them in.
A towering Christmas tree stood at the heart of the pub, glittering with magical ornaments and twinkling lights.
The place was packed. Tables had been pushed to the side; people wandered freely with mugs in hand, toasting and laughing.
Snape elbowed his way to the bar, then pinched his voice into something unrecognizable. "Two butterbeers, please."
Madam Rosmerta turned, eyeing him curiously. Then she smiled and handed over two frothing mugs.
As she did, her pinky finger traced softly across the back of Snape's hand.
Flustered, he peered from beneath his hood.
But she'd already turned, busy with the next customer. All that remained was her high ponytail, bouncing with her movement. It was the first time Snape had ever seen her wear her hair like that.
"Do you like it?" he asked Pandora, who was gulping butterbeer.
He had to raise his voice—the magical wireless was blaring Christmas songs across the room.
Celestina Warbeck's sultry croon swept through the pub.
"It's amazing!" Pandora lifted her mug and grinned. "Merry Christmas!"
Snape took a long pull. It was one of the most satisfying things he'd ever tasted—rich, sweet, buttery warmth spreading through his chest, thawing him from within.
Under the jazzy rhythm of A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love, they laughed and clinked their mugs loudly.
"Oh, come stir my cauldron, dear,
If you do it right,
I'll brew you a potion,
To keep you warm tonight."
They drained the first mug quickly.
Then came a second. A third. A fourth…
Snape lost count of how many trips he made to the bar.
He may have started grinning foolishly at Madam Rosmerta.
Pandora, flushed and giggling, leaned close.
"Severus, I've got something for you," she said, her voice a little slurred.
"What is it?" Snape swayed gently with the music.
"This," she murmured, pulling a wizard's wallet from her robes. "It holds… everything."
Celestina had begun her next number: You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me.
"Oh, my poor heart, where did it go?
It flew from my chest, bewitched by your glow…
Now it's torn and gone, can't you see?
Please bring back what you stole from me!"
With a final soaring note, the song ended.
The pub erupted in applause. Pandora clapped along, eyes shining.