The Sugar Quill
Author: Lesly  Story: Snape Saves Christmas: An Adventure in Verse  Chapter: Default
The distribution of this story is for personal use only. Any other form of distribution is prohibited without the consent of the author.

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'Twas the night before Christmas in the bowels of Hogwarts,

Where our beloved (hee hee) professor was marking Potions reports.

"Another 'F' for Longbottom," he said with a sneer,

That boy just gets dumber with each passing year."

The students were all nestled in their four-poster beds,

While visions of sherbet balls danced through their heads.

Snape shook his head and muttered "Enough of this crap,"

And huffed off to his chamber for a long winter's nap.

When across the room some test tubes had shattered,

Snape whipped back around to deal with the matter.

"That's fifty points from Gryffindor", he snarled, not thinking,

Then his beetle- black eyes grew large and unblinking.

For this was no student, he realized with dismay

But a big man in red who traveled by sleigh.

What's worse, the concoction Snape worked on that night

Looked just like cow's milk in the dungeon's muted light.

And poor Father Christmas, bless his sweet soul,

Who had just stopped by to give Snape some coal,

Was now sprouting tentacles like those of a squid

And Snape tried to keep his amusement well hid.

But he soon stopped smirking when he saw Santa's glare

And all he could do then was swallow and stare.

"You dunderhead, you wretched git!" the old elf shouted.

"I didn't tell you to drink it," the potions master pouted.

It seemed there was an antidote that would fix Santa's face

(But what prat would whip that stuff up in the first place?)

The cure was pleasant tasting, but took three hours to brew,

In the meantime, what was good Saint Nick to do?

Father Christmas liked to work his way up Hogwarts castle

To meet the reindeer on the roof was much, much less hassle.

But that meant the Hogwarts kids had not gotten their toys

Someone had to take care of those good girls and boys…

 

 

 

"You've got to be kidding," Snape said with a laugh.

I'm the meanest bugger on the entire Hogwarts staff."

"Wouldn't Dumbledore be the more obvious choice?

He's got the right look, he's got the right voice."

Father Christmas shook his head, "No, it has to be you."

To wake my friend Dumbledore simply will not do."

He's been a busy wizard and he really needs his rest.

I'm Father bloody Christmas, and I know what's best!"

"I see you when you're sleeping, you bet your ass I do,

If you deviate from my orders, I will put a curse on you."

(Don't forget, Father Christmas has magic, too).

Now put on some shoes and get yourself in gear,

While I wait to recover and drink all your beer!"

Snape heaved a great sigh and slipped on the red hat,

He passed on the suit because it made him look fat, and

As per Santa's instruction, put his finger to his nose (To! Not up!)

And screamed like a child when up the chimney he rose

As the Slytherins snored and sneered in their lair,

Snape came upon a boy with creepy blond hair.

He looked to the list, for Malfoy, it said,

A swift kick in the ass and a boot to the head

As eager as Snape was to do Santa's bidding,

As he read on, he realized the old man was just kidding.

Though Snape had to be nice because of Malfoy's dad,

Deep, deep down he knew the kid was just bad.

In Gryffindor, as Snape passed a sleeping Ms. Granger,

Loyal Crookshanks assumed his dear mummy was in danger.

So he jumped on Snape's head and clawed at his eyes,

And Hermione awoke with sleepy surprise.

"It must be all the butterbeer that I chugged down tonight."

The thought of Snape leaving presents filled her with fright.

"Calm down, sweet Crookshanks, she said with a yawn,

And in a blink of an eye, old Snapey Claus was gone

(And crying like a colicky infant in the hallway)

Meanwhile in the boy's wing, Ron was catching some Z's,

When Snape tripped o'er his sneakers and fell on his knees.

He reached into the sack that had spilled on the floor,

And grudgingly gave Ron his model dinosaur.

(I have no idea if Ron is into Dinosaurs or not. It rhymed).

And sleeping like an angel just one bed away,

The bane of Snape's existence, Harry Potter, did lay.

Snape resisted the urge to smack him in the head,

And left him his mysteriously wrapped present instead.

Before Snape could leave Santa's note caught his eye:

Since I know you're a sweet, warm-hearted sort of guy (NOT!!)

Harry's had a tough go for someone of his years.

Give him a peck on the forehead and dry all his tears.

That man has it in for me, Snape thought to himself

This is a sort of job better suited to a house elf!

He looked around, but since no elves were in sight,

Snape closed his eyes and puckered up, but then Harry awoke with fright.

Before the boy could scream, Snape pulled his wand out

And poor Harry, not knowing what this was about,

Cried "Snape, you are a pervert and wish to do me harm!"

The professor made a gagging noise and did a memory charm.

Snape raced straight back to his chambers to gargle and spit,

Where he noticed Father Christmas had gotten up and split.

I guess the antidote worked, Snape was pleased with himself,

Then he noticed good Saint Nick had left a parcel on his shelf.

A brand new set of test tubes lay neatly in a row

And the coal was now in a wooden box tied with a festive bow.

There was, of course, a note attached, Dear Professor, it read,

The antidote made me sleepy so I went home to bed.

I really must commend you on a job well done,

Now admit it, wasn't the whole thing a great deal of fun?

If you look in your cauldron, you'll find a surprise

Btw-I'd put some sort of salve on those eyes- Love F.C.

In the cauldron was some wassail* from Santa's private stock.

"How on Earth did he know?" Snape wondered in shock.

He nearly drank the whole lot in one giant swallow,

And a drunken bout of giddiness, naturally, did follow.

He gave all the Gryffindors smiley faces and 'A's on their papers,

An act that would have appalled the old Snapers.

But he was a changed man (for the next hour or so)

And even the Potter brat was no longer his foe.

So he spun around the dungeon shouting "Bless us, every-one!"

Though he felt a bit queasy, Snape was still havin' fun.

And he said with a slur as he passed out on the floor,

"Merry Christmas to all… my head's gonna be sore!"

 

 

 

 

 

*Wassail is a festive mulled, spiced wine, cider or ale (spiced with yummy things like apples, cinnamon sticks, whole cloves etc.) enjoyed the world over, but especially in Great Britain. Consult the World Wide Web for recipes.

 

 

//
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