#alan rickman christmas

[deepperplexity]

Sneaky pre-post in July about Christmas... 👀

I've added RICKMAS2023 to my Tagging Masterlist - if you're a creator or reader who doesn't wanna miss out on this year's Christmasy Alan Rickman event you can add yourself to the tagging lists already!

Don't forget to reblog this so as many as possible have a chance at joining in and participating - fandom only stays alive and thrives when we all create and enjoy it together 🖤

✨Whoop-Whoop! It's gonna be a party!✨

[grant-it]

The Weary Soul Rejoices

You and Severus spend Christmas Eve night together while tip toeing around your attraction to each other.

Word Count: 4.3k CW- student reader, unestablished relationship, slight angst, forbidden mutual pining

The Slytherin dorms had a tendency to be cold, especially on a winter night like this one. Sitting in front of the fire was the only place you wanted to be right now- mainly because it’s the only place you felt warm and welcome. It’s Christmas Eve, and the majority of all the students have left until the semester resumes. More Slytherins lingered in the castle compared to the other houses, yet it was still like a ghost town in the dorms. It was nice though, usually this place is loud and chaotic but tonight it’s calm and comforting.

This will be your seventh Christmas Eve sitting in front of this exact fireplace. You didn’t really have a family to go back to for the holiday. Estranged from your father and your mother long dead, it’s never a hard decision whether or not stay at school. You let out a sigh while staring into the fire. The pops and crackles have hypnotized you for who knows how long. The realization of this being your last Christmas at Hogwarts begins to set in. Where will you be next year? Perhaps in a place of your own. Merlin forbid you have to spend a bleak and depressing Christmas with your father, never speaking a word to each other unless necessary. Soft footsteps coming down the stairs break you out of your trance.

“Hey.”

Daphne emerges from the steps that lead to our rooms. She’s bundled up in her scarf and gloves, a light pink covering her cheeks. Daphne has always been kind to you ever since you punched a boy who was trying to hex her little sister.

“Me and the others are going to sneak down to the quidditch pitch, they’re already waiting outside. Hopefully at this point, Snape will be up for the night so, it will be pretty easy getting out of the dungeons. Gonna come with?”

You Ignore the invitation.

“Why the quidditch pitch? It’s freezing outside.” You ask, subconsciously curling up closer to the fire. She shrugs, tying her scarf tighter. “The snow from this morning is untouched down there, guess they want to make snow angels or something to celebrate Christmas.” She scoffs. “I’m just going because I feel as if I’m losing my mind. There’s absolutely nothing fun to do here over break.” She tilts her head, noticing you not moving to follow her. She purses her lips and starts walking to exit the commons. “Well, have a nice rest of your night! I’m kind of jealous. Being in the snow will be fun for like, five minutes.” She mumbles the last part before stealthy leaving, trying to not make any noise. Even though the door itself is loud enough to tip off anyone nearby.

A part of you feels like you should join them. You don’t particularly get along with the other students that have stayed, yet the lot of you were friendly enough. During your time at Hogwarts you never made any real friends- most likely from your lack of trying. But, making snow angels after curfew on the quidditch pitch-that you’ve never even stepped foot on- does seem like a nice send off to your last Christmas here.

 It’s your last Christmas here.

It’s a sobering thought. With one final look into the fire, you stand up and head to your room to bundle up as much as you can. Wrapping your large grey and green scarf around you, slipping on your gloves and an extra cloak, you head for the door. Each step that brings you closer the urgency from just a few minutes ago fades away. What if by the time you get down there, they’re already coming back? And it’s freezing outside, you don’t necessarily own the correct clothes for rolling around in the snow. You glance back at the fireplace and puff out your cheeks. It’s not even that you really want to go with them, you just want to do something with your last Christmas Eve. All you usually do is mope around like a loser. You stand at the exit to the common room for a while, contemplating. Maybe you could sneak down to the kitchens, steal some champagne? If there even is any. Maybe you could convince one of the house elves to get you some. Shaking your head, you decide to leave anyway. “Let us see where the night takes us.” You say out loud, before quietly stepping into the hallway. When you are fully out the door, you turn around as the large stone snake slithers back down into the floor, hiding the door once again. You cringe at the noise that echoes through the dungeons. You wait for a moment to hear out for Professor Snape's footsteps, but they never come.

You wandered through the halls of the castle, time slipping away from you. Your thoughts keeping wrapping back around to Professor Snape. As your thoughts often do, to be honest. During your fifth year he started to catch your eye more. First of all because his face is quite pretty, and second- you relate to him. Before all of that it was mainly just intimation and a smidge of fear. His presence has always been extremely intense. He doesn’t light up a room but you always know when he’s entered one. You felt drawn to him, your eyes always searching him out when he could be nearby. It’s safe to say you will forever be grateful to excel in potions- the extra attention you get because of it always makes your heart skip a beat. The fact that he is the head of your house is also a bonus. You wonder how he’s spending his Christmas Eve. Probably the same way he spends every other night, slouching over his desk, handing out failing grades like its candy. He’s bathed in candle light, with a calm expression on his face. Though that’s a bit hard to imagine. Not because you don’t think he can’t be calm- you’ve just never seen him like that. Maybe he’s listening to music, perhaps even muggle music. Snape seems like a Nat King Cole kind of man. That last part is a reach though, Snape isn't the type to indulge in anything remotely festive. You let out a giggle at the thought, shoving your hands in your pockets. You've stopped in front of a window that goes all the way up to the ceiling. Through the dark you can make out the quidditch pitch on the horizon- as well as Daphne and her friends walking back up. You feel a small tug at your heart.

Maybe you don’t like to indulge in anything festive either.

All you did these past years is sit alone in front of that fire place, attending the Christmas feast the next day because you had to, then going back to being alone. Even on your very last Christmas Eve at Hogwarts you prefer to walk around a deserted castle instead of spending it with people you could call your friends- that is if you tried hard enough to actually talk to them. You’ve let a few stray tears fall past your eyes, not even noticing you had started to cry.

“Fuck..” You whisper, sniffling as you dry off your face with your glove.

“What are you doing?” A low voice from behind you makes you jump out of your skin.

“Merlin!” You whip around, putting your hand over your heart. Professor Snape stands before you, eyebrow raised at your reaction. He was halfway in the shadows, emerging from an empty classroom.

“You scared me half to death, Snape!” You close your eyes, calming down from the jump scare. Looking back up at him, you feel your face heat up. You had just been thinking about him and what he was up to, you’ve practically manifested him. You clear your throat, unable to stop the blush from spreading all over your face. You’re in some deep trouble though, no doubt. It’s way past curfew and you’re wandering about the halls.

“I was just talking a walk. Needed some air, I guess.” You sniff again, hoping any signs of your tears are gone. He tilts his head at you, staring deeply into your eyes. You have to look away from him-the intense stare making your heart beat faster. He lets out a large sigh, taking a few steps closer to you.

“Why are you upset?” He asks, begrudgingly. You chew the inside of your cheek, looking back outside the window.

“I’m not upset. Not really.” You put your hands back in your pockets, glancing at him. “You’re not going to get onto me about being out past curfew?” You question.

“It’s Christmas Eve. And you were crying. I’m feeling uncharacteristically…generous.” He draws out the word generous, making you shiver. Hopefully he thinks from the cold. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Professor Severus Snape? Being generous?

“Thank you, Sir.” You say, looking back out the window. Snape follows your gaze. Thankfully, your fellow students are out of view now. The two of you find yourself in a comfortable silence, and you sneak a look at him. His side view could very well be your favorite way to observe him. His hooked nose, the way his hair falls down around his ears, and the way you can look into his eyes without meeting them. It’s not the usual perspective you get to experience. Suddenly his eyes move over, catching you staring. But you don’t look away.

“Professor, if you don’t mind me asking, do you celebrate Christmas?”

He is the one to break eye contact, looking up into the night sky. For a moment, you think he’s chosen to ignore your question entirely. Just as you began to beat yourself up in your mind, he speaks.

“Perhaps…not in the way others traditionally do.”

You slowly nod your head. That’s a very typical non-answer answer that he would give. He seems to notice your dissatisfaction, and rolls his eyes.

“I don’t do the silly decorations, dreadful caroling, or watch those foul excuses for a movie where they all realize the, lack for a better word, magic of Christmas.” He sneers.

You get the urge to laugh, but settle on just smiling.

“I want to agree with you, but l fear I love the silly decorations.”

He looks back down at you and scrunches up his nose, as if he’s smelling something repulsive. Making a noise of disagreement, he puts his hands behind his back.

“Soon the holiday will be over and we will all be better for it.” He mumbles. Your smile fades a bit at his comment, and you look down at your shoes.

“It’s my last year here. And I don’t usually give a care for the holiday but now that it’s my last one at Hogwarts it feels…different. More sad.” You admit. You can feel the tears begin to build up again, and you dry your eyes before they can spill over.

“It... was always going to come to an end.” Snape says in such a quiet voice, it’s practically a whisper.  

“I know, I know.” You take a deep breath in and out and compose yourself. You hate the feeling of crying, and you're sure he doesn't want to deal with you crying either. You both enter another bout of silence- this one filled with a bit of tension.  

He crosses his arms. “It seems there's no helping it.” He says to himself, before turning on his heel and starting down the hallway. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, opening your mouth to question him before he cuts you off.

            “Come along, it’s getting close to midnight.”

Disappointment settles into your chest. You should have known a peaceful moment between you and him wouldn’t last very long. Now he’s going to escort you right back to the dormitory, back to being alone. Trudging along after him, you both descend further down into the castle.

Reaching the dungeons once more, you realize he isn’t taking you back to your dorm, but to his office. You pick up your pace to walk next to him.

            “Professor? What are we doing?” You ask, not being able to help the smile growing on your face.

            “Celebrating Christmas.”

Soon you’re at his office and he opens the door, gesturing for you to enter first. You’ve been in his office a handful of times before. All because of a detention here and there but that’s extremely normal for anyone who’s had the luck of having him as a Professor. You take in the space. Nothing has ever changed. It’s a good-sized room, in the shape of a semicircle. Enough for the sole reason of working at a desk. Books and jars of various ingredients line the walls, and upon his desk in neat stacks were student’s papers waiting to be graded. Only a few candles are lit this evening giving the room a cozy glow. Even though the walls are all bookshelves, stacks of books overflow onto the floor. And there is something tucked in the corner that you have never noticed before. A record player.

“Sit.” He says before disappearing behind a door that you assume leads to his living quarters. You take a seat in the chair in front of his desk. It’s odd being in here without the feeling of being a deer in headlights, fearing whatever detention he has lined up. You look out the window on the back wall, the soft light of the moon seeping into the room. A gentle flurry of snow has begun.

He reemerges, and as you suspected you catch a glimpse of what looks like a small flat before he shuts the door again. A tray with two cups of tea float onto the desk.

“We’re having tea?”

“One cup. Then you go back to your room.” He says, before sitting down in his office chair across from you. He grabs a cup and sets it down in front of him, relaxing into his seat. You do the same and clutch the warm cup in your hands, an unmistakable joy beginning to fill your body. You’re very happy you decided to leave the dorm tonight.

“Thank you for the tea, Professor.”

He nods before taking a sip. You wonder if this is his idea of cheering you up. Or perhaps he also didn’t want to be alone when the clock strikes midnight.

“I use to love Christmas as a child. Before a gloom took over my house.” You say. You’re not sure why, but the urge to confine in him grows with every passing minute. Perhaps it’s because he’s actually acting like a human being with feelings instead of just a cold professor. Another part of you thinks maybe he knows how you feel.

“I’ve never loved Christmas. I had an aversion for it in childhood. It wasn’t until I became a student here at Hogwarts did it become tolerable.” He frowns. You wished to know why he hated Christmas as a kid. But, you usually know when to not cross a line.

“I’m lucky that I have good memories of Christmas from when I was younger. Yet, it’s just moments. Mostly involving my mother before she got sick. Her watching me open a gift she probably got me months beforehand. She’d pinch my frozen cheeks when I came in from the snow.” You smile into your tea. “She came from a muggle family. My father didn’t, so he never really cared for Christmas. But I think he came around to the idea after marrying her. Then all the sudden she was gone, and honestly so was he.” Looking back up to him, he already had his eyes on you. Flustered, you sip your tea. “Sorry. Don’t know where that came from.”

He looks away.

“Tis the season.” He drawled out. You try to find a way to change the subject, ashamed of your oversharing.

“You said you started “tolerating” Christmas after becoming a student, why?”

His finger circles the rim of his tea cup- and you actively avoid watching him do so.

“I suppose it was forced upon me. It’s difficult to avoid the holiday in a place like this.” His smooth voice is like music to your ears.

“This school does ooze Christmas spirit. With the lovely, silly decorations.” You joke, and to your surprise the corners of his mouth raise into a soft smile.

“Agreed. Ooze is a perfect word to describe it.”

You laugh, and his eyes meet yours. You feel your face heat up again, and you wish with all your might for it to stop. His eyes roam all over your face, obviously taking note of your flustered appearance.

"Why didn't you go with the other students tonight?" He says, eyebrows furrowed. His question surprises you, mostly because you thought Daphne and the others actually got away with it.

"How did you know they had left?"

He smirks. "You're not usually one to ask foolish questions. I had spotted them walking back from the very window you were crying at."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You know practically everything that goes on in the castle as soon as it happens."

"That I do."

You start to piece this new information together.

"Professor, how long had you been standing there? I mean...were you behind me that whole time and I just didn't notice?" The question slips out of your lips. He freezes up- his smirk falling.

"And...what were you doing in that classroom?" You ask another question. You aren't thinking before you speak, all the dots connecting too quickly in your head. He had heard you coming and hid in a classroom? To avoid you? To...watch you?

"I thought you were Madam Pomfrey. I'm late on my pepperup restock so I thought it would be best to...avoid her." He looks away from you and sips his tea.

"Oh." You aren't convinced.

It's a sight to behold- he's hiding it, but he is definitely blushing.

"If you saw Daphne and her friends, why didn't you go get them?"

You're digging yourself a grave, but it feels too late to stop now. He doesn't speak, weighing his words. His eyes glance over to you, then back to his tea.

"I decided you were in need of my attention."

Feeling like your soul is leaving your body, you take a sip of tea.

"I appreciate you cheering me up instead of busting them." You say, trying to play it cool and act as if you didn't just catch your Professor in a lie about watching you from the shadows. You wished you found it creepy, but unfortunately it's quite the opposite.

"They will still be given punishment come the 26th. I'll let them have a day to think they got past me."

"Oh Professor, that's just evil." You tease. He shrugs, smirking once again.

"Breaking curfew and leaving the castle after said curfew. That's enough to earn polishing every piece of silver in the Great Hall."

"Have you forgotten I'm breaking curfew as well?" You raise your eyebrow.

"I have you here with me." He brushes off your question. Unsure as to why exactly, those words make your stomach flutter.

Neither of you know what to say next. The two of your awkwardly sip your tea.

"I think it's nice you'll let them enjoy their Christmas. Thats the real reason you're waiting to reveal you caught them, isn't it?" You ask, his eyes sliding back over to you.

He doesn't respond, which is an answer enough.

"I won't tell anyone." You smirk.

He clears his throat at your comment and looks at the clock.

He suddenly gets out of his chair, and you start to think you've said something wrong, but he makes his way over to the record player stashed in the corner.

“This,” He takes a record from a shelf. “Is how I celebrate Christmas.”

He sets the record down, and lowers the needle. The satisfying crackle fills the room as he comes back to sit across from you. With a bated breath you stare at him. He seems embarrassed as he refuses to meet your eyes. The soft music starts, and you almost gasp.

            Nat King Cole. O Holy Night.

“I’m not a religious man but, my mother loved this song. She would play it once every year before she passed. It’s…the only thing we ever did for Christmas.”

You were speechless, and decided to stay that way. You both sat and watched the snow fall outside his window, listening to the dulcet tones. You could tell Snape was deep in thought, as were you. You had tried to not let your thoughts linger too much on your mother this year, to no avail. The deep melancholic longing never gets any less painful. Every time Christmas comes around you feel the hole your mother has left in your heart a bit more. She was such a beacon of light. Even though your father can be cold and cruel, you know it’s because he misses her. As do you.

  Your eyes moved from the snow, to Snape. You watched the back of his head and felt as if you were in the presence of a completely different person. You didn’t know that he also lost his mother. You’re honored that he is even sharing this with you, a topic that you are certain he does not speak of to anyone. As if he felt your gaze upon him, he turned around. Your eyes didn’t break contact as the song reached its end. He had a vague look of pain on his face, no doubt a part of him going back in time to his mother. And you could tell he was fighting the uncomfortableness of showing this side of himself to you. His hand was resting on the table and you had an overwhelming urge to reach over and grab it. Just as you slowly started lifting your hand from your lap, the song had ended. His eyes flickered down to the movement of your hand before he looked away from you. He rose out of his chair, turning off the music before the next song could start.

Sheepishly, you returned your hand to your lap. As he was putting the record away, you glanced at the clock. Two minutes past midnight. Christmas Day.

Snape walked to stand in front of the window, his back facing you. Just as you were about to speak, he turns around.

"Time... doesn't wait. It violently moves forward. Things will constantly change until your last breath. You must also move forward, and accept it." Snape slowly begins to walk toward you. "You can be sad, like how you are tonight. But you cannot dwell."

He's now standing in front of you, and you have to crane your neck up to look at him. The sudden monologuing catches you off guard- his words hitting you like a slap in the face.

"The worst thing you can do for yourself is stay stagnant in your grief. Grow with it." He puts his hand on your shoulder. You take in a sharp breath.

"What if I can't?" you ask, looking up at him desperately. He shakes his head, and lets his hand fall back down to his side.

"You must." He says firmly.

As you take in his words, he goes back around his desk and starts to put your tea glasses back on the tray.

"Have you, Professor? Grown with your grief?" You stare at the ground. He's paused what he's doing and you know his gaze is on you.

"Look at me." His gravelly voice instantly makes your head raise and your eyes cut over to him. He has a serious look in his eyes and you fear you've finally overstepped.

"That shouldn't matter to you. Heed my words. You cannot go through life passing things up because you're still in the past." He says with a sharpness, before his expression softens just the slightest.

"You spend too much time in your own head. Come out."

You stare at him in awe. He's right. You've spent so much time feeling sorry for yourself, the past seven years have flown by. And you had nothing to show for it. You don't go out with friends to make angels in the snow.

He's trying to tell you to not end up like him.

You stand up and he straightens his posture. You're seeing him in a whole new light and you can't look away.

“Merry Christmas, Professor Snape.” You whisper.

“Merry Christmas.” He whispered back. Neither of you move.

You wish you could cross so many boundaries that stand between the two of you.

“Thank you for this.” You finally say. He gives you a slight nod before striding around his desk to the door.

“Now...off to bed with you. You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with the Christmas-stricken children tomorrow.” He deadpanned. You let out a small laugh and shake your head. The way he can switch up his mood is astonishing.

He holds the door open for you as you give him one last smile, venturing out into the hallway. You don’t even make it three steps before he speaks behind you.

“Thank you.”

You turn back and look at him. He stood in the middle of the doorway watching you, not a flicker of emotion showing on his face anymore.

"You know...I don't think we ever stop growing. Like you said, things are constantly changing." You bite your lip as if to keep in your next sentence.

"Maybe I'll come visit you for Christmas next year and we can do this again."

The corners of his mouth lift into a wistful smile.

"Maybe."

Giving him a small wave, you turn and continue back to your dorm. That isn’t exactly how you thought you’d spend your Christmas Eve, but it’s better than you could’ve even imagined.

When you get back, and you cozy up into bed, you feel excitement for what the next day will bring. You hadn't felt that way in a long, long time.

           Oh, night divine.

[acapelladitty]

eye of the storm

"Until you can all come to your senses and play by my rules, I'll be keeping one of you close to ensure no further foolishness."

As Hans' woman on the inside, you had played your part beautifully and the sharp fingers which had gripped at your arms as he dragged you away from the assembled group of hostages were rough enough to pull a genuine whimper from your lips. Christ, even one of the floor guys, David you thought his name was, had offered himself up to go in your place. Just to keep you away from the terrifying men who were holding everyone in the building captive and, in particular, their evil leader who was currently making a very decent effort to rip through the back of your dress as his fingers groped and snatched at the seams of the velvety material.

Hidden away by the solid wooden panelling of the office walls, the armed guard which protected the only door to the room guaranteed a privacy that neither of you were willing to pass up on as the thrill of the score to come thrummed across your skin.

"Watch the dress, handsome." You groan out as he mouths at your skin, your digits tugging at the deep brown hair which curls messily on the nape of his neck to pull him away from your chest. "It's one of the more expensive ones I have."

"I know," Hans contests in a tone which is little more than a frustrated growl as his head is forcibly removed from the soft skin which bulges free of your low bustline, "since I was the one who bought it. Maison Margiela doesn't just fall onto ones skin. Not when it's a custom fit."

Never one to give up on his goals, Hans' face dives back into your skin as he chases the scent and sheer taste of you like a man possessed. His lips are hot against your throat and his blunted teeth scrape across the sensitive juncture where shoulder meets neck as he follows your pulse with the warmth of his tongue. He's excited and you can feel the thrill of the adrenaline which pumps through his veins as another of his schemes plays out perfectly, his cool attitude belied by how desperately he is pressing into you - seeking a release for his pent-up excitement.

"Besides," Hans continues and his accented words slip up to caress your ears and send a shudder of desire sweeping down your spine, "with the money we leave with tonight, you'll have the funds to buy a hundred in every conceivable colour that catches your fancy."

His teeth bite at your ear, tactfully avoiding the diamond studs which grace the skin, and you can't hold back the groan which flees your throat as your hands slide up the back of his suit jacket and curl into his shirt.

"No," you gasp out as he drops only enough to continue biting gently along your neck, "I think I like you buying them." Returning your finger to wind along the nape of his neck, you can feel the shiver which runs across his skin at the gentle touch. "And when you're richer than all of these yuppie sons of bitches combined, I'll think of lots of different ways to make you want to treat me."

Fic Masterlist ☆ Link to AO3

[whatareyoureallyafraidof]

"Lethal Weapon" is a Christmas movie!

[dinosaurwithablog]

Ask a stupid question and get a stupid answer. 🤣🤣🤣 I love Hans Gruber's reaction to his question 😂 You gotta respect Holly for being extremely honest and not looking afraid at all. Her 3rd request is for bathroom breaks for everyone. I'm thinking that she should go first after dealing with Hans, don't you? That took some nerve to do.

[bobdylan-n-jonimitchell]

“And that performance then begat a movie called Love Actually. It was conceived when the movie director [Richard Curtis] put that cut of “Both Sides Now” on and much to his surprise, he was crying. It caught him off guard. And so he built a whole movie around it, “Love Actually.’”—Joni Mitchell, 2012.

[pixalry]

Geektastic Xmas Goodies - Created by PJ McQuade

PJ is back at it again having reopened his online shop! You can now get tons of that geeky pop culture Christmas content that you crave, from an artist who loves to create artwork inspired by his favorite shows and movies.

Magnets, cards, ornaments, magnets, and more, you can make these fun designs part of your Christmas by ordering now from PJ's shop!

[femplague]

Outside I'm smiling but on the inside I'm always Emma Thompson in that scene from Love Actually

[blondebrainpowered]

Alan Rickman photographed whilst filming 'Die Hard', 1988

[deepperplexity]

Prompt 6: Wrapped Tightly [OS]

Pairing: Young Severus Snape x Young Female Hufflepuff You

Set in: Year Seven of Yours and Severus’s Hogwarts time

POV: Second, Reader

A/N: I wanted to write something sweet, something cute, something fun and warming in a one-shot to take a little break from the serials of Brandon, Gruber, and Turpin that I have going on so far this Rickmas so here we are with a young Snape 🥰 Now, it was supposed to be short but… umh, yeah… 👀 P.S the potion in this story is completely made up.

Also, side note, we had a family Christmas crafts day at work (the library) today and there was so much happening I feel like I've been in a whirlwind and I need to finish tomorrow's prompt but I'm all drained after the super-energy at work 😅

Tags/TW’s: Mutual Secret Pining, Young Love, First Kiss, Hand Holding, Knight In Shining Armour Vibes, Illegal Potion Making, Rule Breaking, Sneaking Around After Curfew, Disastrous Potion, Slight Banter/Teasing (fun kind!), Nervousness, Low Self-esteem

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name | Y/L/N - Your Last Name

Word Count: 4.6k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Wrapped Tightly

Your hands ached, your mind solely focused on counting the stirs of the cauldron. …forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one… On and on it went, you would count until you hit eighty-three and then stir the potion counter-clockwise sixteen times before setting it to simmer for the upcoming eleven hours — perfectly timed for when you’d return from breakfast the day after. You’d have to get an early breakfast to make it in time but curfew was coming closer for this Friday evening so you had no choice but to make it at this time.

What you were doing wasn’t exactly allowed, but then again, no great things are discovered or created by strictly following rules and regulations, right? There, switch to counter-clockwise and one, two, three, four, five… It was a relief to move your arms in the opposite direction while you focused on counting — trying not to let the potentially disastrous outcome of brewing an illegal potion in a restricted tower of your school could yield; especially if the potion didn’t go as planned.

You pulled the wooden spoon of honey-waxed oak out of the potion at the exact right time, staring into the still-swirling potion for any signs of it changing colour for a long minute. It did not, and you let out a sigh of relief. The icy blue liquid was thick and white fumes with what looked like minuscule crystals wafted up from the cauldron as you adjusted the burner beneath it. Nothing happened, the potion remained the same and you clapped your hands giddily.

Before leaving the cold room with a slight shimmer to their walls as the fumes filled the space, you cast another three secrecy charms and a trespass hex for good measure. Rather someone gets a bit of a headache than discovering what you were up to, honestly.

The clock struck nine, the giant clock tower not far from the tower you occupied boomed it out and you closed the door to get yourself back to Hufflepuff quarters. You were on the wrong end of the school, and at the top of it which also happened to be opposite to where your dormitory was. Hufflepuff wasn’t as deep down as Slytherin in the dungeons but still, like the badger representing your house, you were down below.

You sneaked down the swirling staircase of stone, staying close to the inner wall, and made sure to keep your steps light and quiet. The curfew was in effect and now, with the halls lit with more candles and dressed in sparkly globes of magical ice, your reflection could be spotted as well if a teacher on patrol happened to pass nearby.

“Miss Y/l/n,” came a quiet voice and you halted while stiffening. “Perhaps you should take a left, lest you run into old Filch in a minute,” it continued as you turned your head only to find Sir Nicholas peaking his head out from the wall, literally just the head and the tiny flap of skin holding it attached to his shoulders which were hidden within the wall or perhaps behind it — you weren’t sure how thick the walls actually were. “Sir Nicholas,” you whispered. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the teachers’ side?” He smirked, his moustache twitching. “Oh, I like a good joke as much as anyone and what you’re brewing will be a fantastic one.”

You scrunched your brows. What you were brewing wasn’t intended for any joke. “What do you mean?” “Come now, he’s nearly here.” You looked around. “I can’t walk through walls,” you whisper-hissed. “No, but you can open the door,” he chuckled and disappeared. Door, what door? “In here,” came a voice you knew all too well. Your heart quickened at the dark drone and you looked slightly behind you. “Severus?” “Come on,” he said and a hand shot out through the wall— no, through a crack in the wall that suddenly opened wider. A hidden passage? I thought I’d found all— woah! You got yanked through the second your hand landed in his and darkness wrapped tightly around you along with stale air and an eerie quietness.

He pulled you closer, you stumbled on the uneven stone floor and planted your face against his harsh chest in the process of nearly falling face-first. He smelled too good. Sage, peppermint, and a scent all his own. Your heart leapt anew and your pulse quickened rapidly. “Sch,” he hissed as you were about to apologise for stumbling into him.

Footsteps moved past the other side of the wall— erh, door. You both stood absolutely still and you could not help but inhale his scent deeply, feeling that ever-growing warmth in your gut once more — as you did each time you lay eyes on the young man who a year ago had fully caught your attention when he saved you from a potion about to explode in class. It hadn’t been your potion, but the benchmate you sat next to. Had Severus not pulled you away and down from the bench next to you on the other side you would have ended up in the Hospital Wing for weeks, like Mr Biscy (the boy who was brewing) had.

You’d liked Severus before that, mostly by his appearance and this strange allure he had. You’d chalked it up to the bad-boy-vibes and the utter lack of interest he seemed to hold in anyone — even the world — and that was something you were fascinated by. Fine, alright, given your badger status, you were also quite happy to make friends and drag those friends along for the crazy ride that was life. To see people realise how not docile Hufflepuff people were was like the icing on the cake, to be honest.

“He’s gone,” Severus said, the dark drone even deeper with your head so close to his chest. You almost whined a complaint as he let your hand go and stepped back. Your eyes had adjusted to the darker space but it was still hard to see much of anything. “Thanks,” you said with a wide smile. “Why are you out beyond curfew?” he asked, and you could have sworn his brow arched and his face hardened a smidge. He was so pale and his hair and clothes so dark that the features were actually visible even in the gloomy space. “Wouldn’t you like to know."” “I would not have asked otherwise.”

You rolled your eyes, the saying going over his head apparently. “It’s my business. I could ask you the same question, you know.” “True.” He turned and began walking, you followed quickly. "But I am not the one nearly caught. Good for you Nicholas told me.” “Wait, he told you? What did he tell you?” Please, nothing about the potion for Merlin's sake. “That you were about to get caught by Filch. I can come out of that unscathed, you, however, could not.” The drawl of his voice nearly sounded smug.

You knew the squib and Severus had some strange form of friendship, or even a bond perhaps, but there was never a chance for you to ask anything about it. Hell, you barely got a chance to ever speak to or even be this close to Severus — he was a bloody expert at keeping distances… Annoying. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to admit that you truly fancied him, because there was no happiness to come from that given Severus barely acknowledged anyone's existence — yours included.

“There should be rules about teacher pets,” you said quietly. “True. It would not have any effect on the caretaker of Hogwarts, though. Would it?” he said, again, a hint of smugness to his voice you could not quite remember ever having heard before. “You’re awfully smug, bit of a git behaviour that,” you said in a we’re-talking-about-the-weather kind of voice. “Smug? No.” “Then, what?” He stopped, you nearly crashed into his back before he looked over his shoulder at you. “Happy…” he murmured before speeding off in long strides while your brain misfired and your legs had to start sprinting on instinct to follow the leader - so to speak - as you had no idea where you were or where the small hallway was taking you.

Happy? Why happy? Have I never heard him happy before? I don’t think I have. Why is he happy though? Is it me— pfth, don’t be daft. But why? You caught up to him as your brain fired thoughts at you in rapid form. “Happy?” you asked. “Why? What makes you happy? I love it, but why?” you rambled while walking as fast as your shorter legs would carry you. Severus took such long strides you had to fight to keep up as the hallway twisted and turned, sometimes going down a few steps, and sometimes going up.

“I could help you,” he said quietly, his words barely audible. “Help me? Well, yeah, Filch would have caught me so I’m very thankful for the help.” It looked as if he nodded at your words but you weren’t quite sure in the gloom. Come on, get him talking, this is your chance! But Severus beat you to it. “Why are you… sparkling?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

You held out your hands and arms, well, shit, you hadn’t thought about the fumes sticking to you as well as the surrounding area. “Erh, glitter bomb?” Severus snorted. “Sure, glitter bomb. Engineer a better excuse.” “Unicorn farted on me?” you said with a whitheld laugh. “Better. Try again.” What, no laugh out of that? “Fine, a Christmas elf sprayed me.” He sighed. “Try again. Careful, steep drop here,” he said right after and slowed his steps.

Severus stepped down, turning him a few inches shorter than you which looked so odd. “Here,” he said, holding out his hand. You hesitated for a moment while your fingers tingled with the prospect of getting to hold his hand. You grabbed on, he took a sturdy grip with those long fingers, and you stepped down the high step with a bit of manoeuvring. “Where are we?” you asked and he released you. “Almost by Hufflepuff.” “What?” “Yes.” “But we were over on—” “Hogwarts has many passages and secrets.” Severus glanced back at you. “Now, another, better, excuse.” How about the truth? “Alright, I was brewing the Dragon Ice potion and the fumes got all over the place.”

Severus halted, you crashed into his back with an oomph! and a thud. “You what?” he asked, turning to face you. “Brewing the Dragon Ice potion—” He grabbed your upper arms. “Are you completely out of your mind?!” he hissed. “Where’s the potion? Where are you doing it?” “Southwest tower, the restricted one with the—” “Idiot. Come on,” he said with exasperation and annoyance mixed with urgency. “What? No, it’s not done until eight in the morning, it’s simmering for—” “For eleven hours as per the recipe in the restricted section, yes, but that’s the incorrect recipe!” he snarled, grabbing your hand and pulling you back the way you came.

You dug your heels in. “What? But it says the same thing in all three books,” you said, halting all movement. “Yes, and they are all incorrect to keep people from brewing it!” “What?” you asked, worry beginning to gnaw in your gut despite the warmth and absolute joy it was to have Severus so close. “What will happ—” “It will explode, turn everything in close vicinity to ice.” “You say that as if you’ve done it before.” “I have, and I learned,” he said. “You’re about to learn that you don’t brew dangerous, illegal potions at school where, if things go wrong, the evidence is in everyone’s faces. Y/n, what were you thinking?” he asked, anger and frustration seeped through his voice but he was not quite mean to you. “I need the money.” “So brew less dangerous potions!” “No, I need a lot of money.” “Don’t we all…” he muttered

“Come on, we need to break the potion cycle before it turns half the castle into an ice cube.” “Wait, what?” He jerked on your arm and you both began moving again. “Yes. The fumes are already turning your clothes hard, aren’t they?” When you thought about it, yes, your cloak felt stiffer than usual and your skirt wasn’t moving as swiftly around your thighs. “I’m becoming ice?” There had been no bloody warning about that in the books. Severus snorted. “No, of course not. It’s more like your clothes being covered in frost, not ice. It stops after a few minutes. The potion, however, is another matter.”

You both walked at a brisk pace all the way back to where you came from. Sir Nicholas appeared just in time when you reached the wall that was really a door. “Back so soon?” “Dragon Ice,” Severus said, and Sir Nicholas smiled and chuckled so his head nearly toppled to one side. “Yes, quite the jester our Miss Y/l/n.” He glanced at me with weird eyes of mischief one usually didn’t see in them. “It will be so much fun when—” “No, Sir, it’s the wrong recipe, half the castle will turn to ice if it explodes. And it will.” Sir Nicholas stiffened. “Oh dear, Miss. Quite the pickle we’re in now.” But there was definitely mischief in his eyes, it looked wrong on this specific ghost but not in a necessarily bad way.

He floated backwards, out of the wall, and then reappeared again. “All safe, onward mighty students, to stop the botched potion!” he said with fanfare as if you two were knights in shiny armour. It was endearing but the bravado was a bit too much at the moment. “Let’s go, Severus said and pushed open the wall— door, before grabbing your hand anew and pulling you close behind him toward the entrance to the tower.

You started up the swirling stairs, rushing up them. Truth be told, it was hard to be fast when Severus held your hand, but you had no incline to let go. Who knew, perhaps you’d never get to feel his fingers squeeze around yours ever again after tonight? It felt as if you were in a whirlwind — there was so much happening that you barely had time to reflect on the fact that you were with Severus, holding his hand, nearly running with him and that he’d spoken more to you in the past fifteen minutes in one go than ever before. And he said he was happy… But you had no time to think any more of it as you reached the door.

“Good hex,” he said, grabbing at his forehead with his free hand while you drew out your wand and undid it. “Thanks, it was in—” “Uncomfortable Spells For Protection, restricted section.” You chuckled. “Yeah.” “And here I was, thinking you badgers were sweet, none rebellious creatures,” he said, that smug sound in his voice once more but now you knew better. “Aren’t you serpents supposed to be greedy, evil people? Not ones to help those in need with diffusing disaster potions and keeping people out of harm?” “Touché.”

You chuckled before pushing the door open with the back of your wand-holding hand and arm. “Shit,” Severus said, seeing the room filled with a blue-tinted fog that wasn’t at all the type of fumes you’d left it filled with not too long ago. “It didn’t look like—” But Severus let go of you and rushed toward the cauldron, looking into it and interrupting you. “Shit. Shit. Shit,” he muttered before starting to search through the pockets of his robe. “Where is it, where is it?” he muttered further as you moved closer in the freezing room with walls, ceiling and floor covered in a thin sheet of ice and small icicles were forming across the ceiling, too.

“Well, this is bad,” you said, not sure if you were panicking or having a laugh at the whole thing. “Yes, bad, very bad,” Severus muttered distractedly, still searching his robes. “Maybe we should get a teacher?” “No, this will not end well for us.” “Us? You haven’t done—” “I’m here, aren’t I?” True… “But you haven’t done anything, you can go to the dungeons while I get a teacher.” “No time for— Shit! It’s going!” Severus snarled, nearly tearing his clothes apart when ripping at the pockets.

Panic surged through you as the cauldron began trembling and creaking while the potion swirled like a whirlpool. A very beautiful whirlpool of glitter, silver, and blue. But ominous. “Get out, Y/n!” “No way!” you shouted back. “This is my fault!” “We’ll be pop-sickles in a minute!” Had the situation not been so grave you would have burst out laughing. But Severus looked far too serious. “We’ll melt eventually!” you shouted over the sudden storm-like winds spinning around the room, coming from the cauldron. Small flecks of ice scratched at your skin and forced you to squint.

Severus grabbed his wand, shouted something, and a small cluster of purple twigs with white leaves flew from a pocket and into his hand. “Get down!” he ordered and you ducked as he threw the material into the cauldron before covering you with his own body. Your heart hammered, your pulse raced and in the midst of whatever was going on with the potion and dire situation you were in some bizarre form of heaven with Severus holding you tight while half laying over you to protect your head and back was there too, wrapping itself tightly around your heart.

The cauldron exploded. You gasped and whimpered from the shattering sound before the noise of splattering liquid came a second later. Another second passed and quietness took over. No more storming winds, no creaking cauldron. Only the odd dripping noise now and then along with the drumming of your own pulse in your ears and the feel of Severus’s heart against your back with his harsh breathing fanning over the top of your head.

After another moment you both straightened. The room was an absolute mess of darkly blue goo. A dense liquid closer to slime than anything else covered everything, including the wide-eyed Severus standing before you. He had protected you from most of it. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gruff and low. You nodded. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” you replied while looking around the room before landing back on him again. “You’re not though, your hair, it’s turning blue…” “Blue?!” He reached up and grabbed at the long black strands turning blue from root to tip like the black lake freezing over.

“It’s not so bad—” He gusted out a harsh breath through his nose while glaring at you. “Not, so, bad?” he snarled. “I’m blue, Y/n. Blue.” You couldn’t stop the giggle as all that had been black on him turned blue. A vibrant blue to boot. “It’s pretty, very, umh, Christmasy,” you said, endeavouring to hold back the laughing. But, in your defence, he looked like a blue gnome with porcelain skin. “Christmas is red and green, if you’ve not noticed.” “No, it can be any colour you—” “By Merlin, if you say one more word about it I will hex you, Y/n.” “Well—” you stepped closer, loosening the tightly gripping fingers out of his own hair “—hex away if it makes you feel better, I owe you big time for this… I mean, I could have been blue. Can you imagine a vibrantly blue badger? Nope, nope, nope. Blue snakes exist, so, no worries there.” “Pacifying me with facts, are we?” he asked, but he seemed less angered and softer as you brushed away some blue hair from his face and adjusted the now blue coat that had been askew.

Looking up at him, you found his onyx eyes mesmerising. He looked slightly alarmed, but there was something to say for being the focus of his attention. Your heart certainly had a say about it, it galloped along like reindeer across the Christmas night sky rushing to bring the sleigh of Santa all around the globe.

“Purple,” you said. “Purple?” “Plum purple, now that would suit you splendidly. Perfectly matchable with black, too, mind you.” He arched a brow. “Plum purple?” You nodded. “Make plum juice next time then, badger.” “Next time?” you asked, your knees turning slightly wobbly. His eyes hardened and widened a bit at the same time. “Or not, not like I care either way.”

His voice trembled ever so slightly, a lightness to it — as if he was suddenly embarrassed or something along those lines. You were too occupied with wondering what he meant to think much of it.

“You know, it’s not nice to say you’ll stick around if you have no plan to do it. I keep my friends, forever. Unless they do something shitty I can’t forgive,” you said. He glanced away for a second and then looked back at you. “Well, I wasn’t suggesting friendship.” You tilted your head, trying with all your might to understand if he was rejecting you despite having helped you immensely or if this was his way of saying he felt something for you as you certainly did for him. You had hinted at it, you had tried to get closer to him — but Severus, well, he wasn’t one to allow distances to shrink.

“Severus, are you saying I should keep my distance or are you asking me out on a Christmas date?” you asked, throwing caution to the wind and diving in head first. The blue hair shimmered as he glanced all around the room except at you. “Maybe…” he muttered, redness creeping up along his neck and covering the tips of his ears peaking through the still-moist hair.

You sighed, trying to find his gaze with your own. “Maybe what? Maybe a date? At Madam Puddifoots next weekend with some sweet treats and hot drinks in the corner booth?” “Something like that, perhaps…” His voice was so deep, so low, you barely heard him. “Will you still be blue? Should I match?” you asked, unable to hide the warmth and giddiness in your voice despite trying to lighten the mood as the poor bloke seemed absolutely stressed about the potential of going on a date. Pfth, it's probably more just talking and being with someone and admitting to feelings and all that stuff but bloody hell I am right now damn thankful for potions going wrong.

Severus still hadn’t said anything, he just looked at you. “Well? Will you still be blue?” “Are you— Are you making fun of me now?” he asked and the depth of his voice turned uncertain. “Absolutely not.” “You will go on a date, in public, with me?” he asked, his features tight but his eyes soft. Better be clear here… “Yes.” “I didn’t think you actually liked me.” “I’ve been trying to show that for a year now, you're very difficult, you know.” “Too difficult?” “HA! There is no such thing as someone too difficult to love, Severus.” “Love?” he asked, alarmed. “Well, I’ve had a crush on you since Biscy nearly landed me in the Hospital Wing with his potion exploding.” Severus snorted. “How he messed up so grandly I’ll never understand.” “Perhaps not, but you noticed before anyone else did. I’ve always found you interesting, you know.” “Have you?”

You smirked, wiggling your eyebrows at him while the atmosphere softened and eased. “Well, yeah, I’m a friend collector and I always want to rope in as many kinds of friends as possible — you certainly are one of a kind, helpful, too.” “Why does that sound incredibly ominous, badger?” “’cus it is. And if you’re my boyfriend, well, all the more fun things I can rope you into doing. Do you think failing a Dragon Ice potion is the only mischief I’ve ever been up to?” you asked, laughter and mirth in your voice as Severus’s eyes widened in alarm. “I believe I am about to find out…” “We badgers are on a whole other level. Like the time the cups turned into mice in the great hall, that was us. The singing trees in the dungeons, also us. The ice rink in the hallway on the fourth floor, also us. Remember that time everyone started floating about as if gravity went haywire?” Severus nodded. “Well, that was me. Who knew messing with gravitational spells to create a new one could make such a bloody mess of everything?” “Anyone with two brain cells to combine,” he snarked and you smirked at him, he wasn’t serious or harsh about it — it sounded as if he were joking with you, to be honest.

“Think you can handle it?” you asked, stepping closer. “Obviously. I may be blue, but we’re alive and the castle is whole, no thanks to you.” Severus looked down at you as you inched even closer, feeling all tingly as his eyes warmed a bit. “So, knight in shiny armour it is,” you said, grabbing his hand and squeezing. He arched a brow, not impressed apparently. “Shiny armour?” “Ugh, fine, black knight,” you conceded and reached up on your toes.

Before he could react, or step back, you planted your wanting lips atop his and kissed him with everything you believed he could handle. It wasn’t your first kiss, but it certainly appeared to be his as he stiffened and did not so much as soften his lips — it was sweet, endearing even. When you leaned back he looked paler than a ghost but he didn’t appear to particularly dislike what you’d done.

He stared at you for a long moment while your hands warmed each other. “You kissed me,” he said, eventually. You smiled widely. “Supplying me with facts?”  “I wasn’t prepared.” “Oh, shall I do it again on the count of three?” you asked, joking and smirking at him. His eyes flickered from yours to your lips and then up again. “If— If you want to…” His ears turned scarlet red at that and your heart absolutely melted. “Three, two, one,” you said quietly as you leaned closer and then you kissed him again. This time, he softened and tentatively kissed you back while his hand turned utterly warm around your own.

When the kiss broke, Severus seemed as shocked as before. “You did it.” “Well, yes, I wanted to,” you said brightly. “Now, will you still be blue for our date and the breakfast tomorrow?” “No. It will pass in about six hours with a good shower and new clothes.” “So no matching then,” you said with a smile. “And no plum purple,” he replied. You laughed as he smiled carefully. “You’re quite the hoot, you know that?” “Perhaps you hit your head when you ducked?” You laughed again. “Perhaps, perhaps, but at least my head isn’t blue.” “Touché,” he replied before turning to look at the mess of the room. “This will take time to undo,” he continued. “Nah, a few spells and we’re good. On toward the next mischief.”

You never did tell him why you brewed the potion, or why you needed the money only illegal and dangerous potions to sell could bring in. That was a future discussion; if the relationship led to something more serious. For now, you’d enjoy a Christmas with the Slytherin you’d wanted for over a year — even if he were currently very blue you had no qualms about kissing him for a third time when he undid his cloak and rolled up his sleeves to help with the cleaning. The fact he stiffened and his ears reddened this time, too, only made you feel as if he was the sweetest thing that you’d eventually corrupt with shenanigans, of course.

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: Well, this was fun 🥰👏 It really was supposed to be a short thing, just like a small tidbit of fun teenage shenanigans and then boom - inspiration hits and you gotta type type type 😂👌

I hope you’re enjoying this first week of Rickmas - which character is your favourite to read about when it comes to Alan? 😍❤

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[flock-of-cassowaries]

Hans Gruber walked so Hannibal Lecter could run.

Hans Gruber fell off a building so Hannibal Lecter could fall off a cliff.

[douglasbradburyverne]

GALAXY QUEST - Released 25 years ago on Christmas Day, 1999

[eemcintyre]

happy Hans Gruber in “Die Hard” season to all who celebrate

[myevilblogs]

OH HE 100% WOULD SAY THIS 😭😭😭

[vertigoartgore]

Die Hard's Hans Gruber and his team of fake terrorists/bank robbers. Source

Alan Rickman, Hans Buhringer, Lorenzo Caccialanza, Bruno Doyon, Clarence Gilyard Jr., Alexander Godunov, Dennis Hayden, Al Leong, Gary Roberts, Wilhelm von Homburg, and Andreas Wisniewski in Piège de cristal (1988)