A tall young man strode through crowds of Christmas shoppers in a confident gait of someone who knew where he was going and intended to get there, allowing little delay on behalf of the rest of the world. Miraculously, he managed to keep up his pace without bumping into anyone or pushing anyone aside.

"Sorry!"

It did not, however, prevent the collision with a middle-aged woman that had just left a shop, her vision obscured by the parcels filling her arms. Uncharacteristically for someone who did not welcome delays, the man stopped just in time to prevent the woman's fall to the ground, keeping her packages in the air with his wand.

"Merry Christmas, ma'am," he nodded at the woman after handing the boxes to her and swept further, his black cloak billowing behind him. The witch's eyes followed him for the next few moments, failing to understand what caught her attention. The man, after all, could not be called handsome even by the most generous standards, nor did his apparel improve it, making him appear a wayward mourner lost in the excited holiday crowd. And yet, there was a peculiar gleam in his black eyes, a strange spring in his step.

The young man, no older than twenty two, however aged by his clothes and hairstyle, paid no heed to the eyes fixed on his back for those few seconds, his mind buzzing with a conversation of several minutes ago.

"Would you like it gift-wrapped, sir?"

The question had caught him by surprise.

"Yes. Yes, of course," he had nodded after a few seconds. He had never gift-wrapped anything in his life. He had never bought a gift before, either. Whatever little offerings he had dared to present her before, they would be of his own creation, and he had never even thought of any wrappings, too busy being sick with anxiety over whether she would like them. No matter the age. Ten, fourteen or seventeen.

"Anything on the card, sir?"

He had been lost in his thoughts again, catching himself only upon finding a small card and a quill in front of him.

Cards. He had never sent a card either, or attached one to a gift. Yet the knowledge of what to write had seemed to come from beyond his mind, strangely bewildered at the moment.

"Thank you, sir," the storekeeper had slipped the card inside the package. "We will have it delivered tonight, as you requested. Will eleven o'clock suffice?"

He had nodded. She should be asleep by eleven. It came as a blessing that she slept so calmly, for otherwise he would be constantly fretting about her not getting enough rest, and certainly not dare dose her with any potion now.

"You're absolutely mental," she would laugh whenever he'd ask whether she slept well, got enough fresh air, felt at all strange or uncomfortable. He would not argue, but never ceased asking, simply unable to concentrate on anything else unless convinced of her complete well-being.

Mental? Definitely. He had indeed suspected himself of losing a certain amount of sanity, but he hardly missed it these days. He would easily accept the title of the craziest wizard in Britain, simply for the chance to wake up in the middle of the night to see whether she is sleeping peacefully, for the possibility to hear her laughter as she berated him for his over-protectiveness… for the right to write three words on a card attached to a – gift-wrapped! – present.

'Love, from Severus.'

The quill had been steady in his hand when he wrote, but his heart seemed to be beating somewhere in his throat. It was the first time he had written anything like that. The first time he had bought a Christmas present.

He would have been ready to write those words on any piece of parchment, every day for the past twelve years. Yet he would not dare. Not if the words could surprise her, shock her, make her uncomfortable for not being able to reply with the same. He had vowed to carry the secret to his grave if necessary, so as not to risk losing her friendship because of the awkwardness.

He had underestimated her green eyes, however. One day, she had seen it all, and he never knew how. She had seen, and she was not surprised, not shocked, not uncomfortable. A very small part of him actually dared wonder whether she had, maybe, felt the same way for some time already. An outrage on his behalf, of course – to think that she would keep silent about anything. He had been silent for the fear of rejection. What could she possibly be afraid of? How could it have been not clear that he had always been for her – that being for her seemed to have become the very purpose of his existence?

Maybe it did become clear that day. However it happened, it mattered not. What mattered was that he would be home in minutes, and she would come out to meet him, smiling in the way that always made him want to look around just to make sure that smile was indeed for him, and him alone. What mattered was that he would test her saintly patience, badgering her with his endless questions about her health, and she would laugh and answer that she was fine. What mattered was that after he had made sure she was asleep, her face a picture of serenity in the halo of dark copper hair, he would go out to meet the delivery owl and reach for the card to glance at the words barely visible in the moonlight, simply to make sure they had not disappeared.

'Love, from Severus.'

They would still have the same argument over Christmas dinner, as they had had every day for the past month. This was something he would not give in on, though. His word was supposed to have no less weight than hers, and his word was that nothing was wrong with having two Lilies under the same roof.

*         *          *

Severus Snape glanced at the clock. Half an hour precisely. Exactly as the box labeled "Christmas Special, Limited Edition" promised.

He got to his feet, intending to visit Argus Filch on his way to the staffroom and inform him that, regretfully, no Dark magic had been discovered in yet another Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes product, confiscated in the process of delivery.

He did, however, wonder whether he should send an anonymous message to the manufacturers, supplementing the list of possible side-effects with 'heightened irritability, aggravated misanthropy, increased suicidal tendencies.'

Then again, 'intensification of inherent personality traits' would probably suffice.