Grand Finale

And so we come to the end of this little Christmas story about two people who found love, and a home and a family. I will admit I've rarely had a story affect me so much as this one. I have never felt so validated as a writer as I have while reading your reviews, and I cannot thank you enough.

We may Choose Something Like A Star to stay our minds on, and be stayed.

It was the first white Christmas in almost fifteen years. Bottlebury Marsh, fresh and frosty and genteel, looked liked the quintessential 'picture print by Currier and Ives.' Hermione had set out the drinks and nibbles and was just taking her first sip of wine when Severus wandered in, his restless eyes roving over the various goodies on the table. After purloining several triangles of his favourite egg and cress sandwiches, he accepted a glass of wine with a small frown. "It isn't like Rose to be late."

"She'll be here," Hermione said, patting his arm reassuringly and reached up to kiss his cheek. After almost twenty years of marriage, she was still touched at the way Severus worried about Rose. They were as close as any father and daughter.

True to her word on that first Christmas, Rose had happily burst into the Burrow and announced, "Severus and Mum are getting married, and if you don't like it, tough, 'cause he's my best friend!"

The Weasleys, while accepting, hadn't been that thrilled at the announcement. Their love for Rose, however, was all-encompassing and indulgent, and so they, too, welcomed Severus into the family with open arms.

The Wizarding world got wind of it and was after it like a Niffler on Amortensia, but the furor died down almost as quickly as it flared. It was hard for Rita Skeeter to get a good scandal going when all anyone could talk about was the tender relationship between Hermione Granger's brilliant daughter and the once-disgraced spy. In many ways, Rose had been the catalyst for Severus' re-entry into the world of Wizarding Britain.

As she grew, so did Rose's strength and reputation, both as a witch and as a woman of integrity and compassion. With typical forthright Granger passion, Hogwarts' newest Potions mistress Rose Snape was Severus' staunchest supporter, alongside her mother, and those who tried to besmirch his name in her presence found themselves on the receiving end of a very tough, hex-wielding young witch.

Severus checked his watch again. "I'm going to send a Patronus if she doesn't come soon," he fretted. Hermione smiled. He often declared that only Molly Weasley outdid Hermione in over-protectiveness, but in reality he was the one who always ensured that Rose was suitably dressed on wintry days, adequately fed when exam time meant hours of revising in the library, and properly chaperoned when a series of completely unworthy dunderheaded suitors called.

Severus had been the one who decided when Rose was old enough to wear grown-up, formal robes, and how much pocket money she should have for trips into Hogsmeade. He bought her first wand, helped her brew her first potion, and counted one of the proudest moments of his life the day Rose asked him to formally adopt her and give her his name.

The fact that she was approaching her thirtieth birthday was inconsequential; to Severus, she would always be his young Rose, and he would always worry about her when she was not home at her appointed hour.

The Floo sparked into life, and Rose burst into the room with the same brio and energy as she had as a ten year old. "I'm home!" she sang out.

"Rose, darling! You look marvelous." Hermione held out her arms and waited to be bowled over, and was not disappointed as her daughter flew into her arms. Rose gave her mother a hug and they rubbed noses. She then looked to her mother's right, where her stern-faced, angular stepfather stood patiently, formally waiting his turn.

"Severus! I've missed you." She enveloped her stepfather in a hug. "You've put weight on."

"Your mother is determined to fatten me up," he replied mildly, giving Hermione a fond glance. "She says that a Hogwarts headmaster should look well-fed and smugly self-satisfied."

"And she's right. It suits you. I can't wait for you two to move to the castle next spring." Severus' appointment as Headmaster had been met with surprisingly little resistance. Rose, of course, had spearheaded the campaign. "It'll be like old times, living together again."

She gave him another affectionate little hug before turning back to Hermione. In a voice that strived to sound casual, she said, "Speaking of old times, you'll never guess who I ran into last week. Harry's back in England, and I invited him round for dinner this evening. I hope you two don't mind."

Severus crossed his arms. "The jig is up, dear. We know."

Rose grew still. "Know what?" she asked.

Hermione sighed. "About you and Harry. Now, don't panic," she said, as Rose's eyes grew huge and she paled. "We're not upset."

"Well," Severus added, his tone rather miffed, "we are disappointed you didn't confide in us, Rose, but we respect your decisions. You know that."

Rose's discomfort was obvious. "I wasn't sure how you'd take it."

Dryly, Hermione replied, "Neither did Harry, which is why he stopped by two days ago and spilled the whole story."

Rose looked from her mother to her adopted father. They could actually see her sag with relief. "You're really not too freaked out about this?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Well, to be perfectly frank-"

"What sort of hypocrites would your mother and I be if we were?" Severus interjected, giving Hermione a look that told Rose this had been an ongoing discussion for the past two days. "Might I remind you that I am eighteen years older than your mother? She was two years younger than you are now when you two first dragged me home."

Rose looked at Severus, her relief palpable. As long as Severus was on her side, Mum would come around. He had that way of doing that. She gave him another hug, and a kiss on the cheek for good measure.

"After the accident, he was so lost, even with the boys," she explained. "We started corresponding by owl, and things just developed between us."

Three years before, Hermione, Ginny, and Lily Potter had gone into Muggle London for a bit of early Christmas shopping. They were walking across a busy intersection when a drunk driver seemingly came out of nowhere and struck them down. Ginny and Lily had taken the brunt of the impact, and Hermione had been so critically injured she'd been unable to attend their funerals. Harry and the boys had been devastated. Shortly thereafter, trying to come to terms with his loss, he'd taken a long-term Auror assignment in the States. They hadn't seen him or his sons in a long time.

So when Harry had shown up out of the blue to tell Hermione and Severus that he and their daughter Rose had been seeing one another for the past six months, and planned to get married, their shock was beyond compare. Severus, ever the protective father, had grilled Harry about the practical matters – his two sons and their feelings, the Weasleys, the press, and most importantly, Rose herself.

"Harry, I know better than most how it feels to lose someone I loved." Severus took a deep breath. "Even you cannot be blind to the resemblance Rose and Ginevra share."

Far from being offended, Harry nodded. "Believe me, Severus, Rose and I have discussed this." He shook his head. "I've known Rose all her life, and they are very different, despite the family resemblance. I loved Ginny very much. I always will, but I have no desire to mold Rose into her image." He smiled. "Besides, you know these Granger women more than anyone. Do you honestly think Rose would settle for playing second fiddle to anyone, even Ginny?"

Severus looked at the younger man keenly. He was shaken to the core. It was as if he were hearing his own voice, twenty years earlier, assuring Hermione, "You will never have to play second fiddle to anyone in my life. Or my heart." At that moment, he felt a kinship to Harry Potter he would have never dreamed possible.

It had been enough to convince Severus. That night, lying in bed, Severus turned to his still-bewildered wife and took her in his arms. "Wait until Christmas Eve, Hermione. When we see them together, we will know if this is serious. But really, who are we to protest?"

"Her parents," Hermione had said, rather morosely. "Am I just being silly?"

"You're being her mother," Severus had replied, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Her mistakes are hers to make. We cannot wrap her in cotton wool."

Now, watching Rose, glowing with excitement and relief, Hermione gave in with what she hoped was good grace. If her husband, of all wizards, trusted Harry, then who was she to argue?

Christmas Eve at the Snapes' was a quiet affair. It was just the four of them around the dinner table, but they were prepared for more; Severus and Hermione had taken over the tradition of Boxing Day from Harry after Ginny's passing.

They talked of old times and those who were no longer with them. Hermione found it surprising that Harry could speak of Ginny and Lily so easily, and when he turned to Rose and took her hand, Hermione's anxiety faded. They looked happy; they looked in love.

It struck Hermione that she and Harry, and Severus to a certain extent, had found their first love during the most difficult of times, stealing moments of desperation and fear. This second relationship was a different love, borne of quiet talks and comfortable silences, confident faith and unhurried embraces, just as her love for Severus had been. She turned to look at her husband and his expression mirrored her own feelings as he threaded his fingers with hers under the table.

After the roast chicken had been consumed and the toasts drunk, Hermione and Rose suddenly got up and left the room. Severus poured Harry a brandy and gestured toward the front room. "Shall we retire to the sofa? We might as well relax while the 'girls' get ready."

Harry, who obviously thought this was a euphemism for the Father of the Bride talk he'd been anticipating all day, frowned in puzzlement. "Ready for what, Severus?"

Severus seated himself on the old sofa and indicated that Harry join him. He took an appreciative sip of brandy and sighed contentedly. "For the Granger Girls' Annual Christmas Eve Sofa Concert, of course."

As always, the witches were in fine form. After a few songs, Harry quietly asked, "You mean, they do this every year?" He watched Rose, awestruck. "I didn't even know they could sing like this."

"Every year since Rose was six," Severus said, placidly, his eyes on the saucy, wiggling bottom of his wife as she pranced around, singing her heart out. "And in all that time, you and I and have been the only privileged audience, except for the sofa." Hermione caught his eye and winked, and Severus raised an eyebrow in the way that carried a very clear message. She blushed prettily, and launched into the next song, to the thunderous applause of their adoring public.

They sang all the old favourites and some carols, and Rose announced a new addition to the repertoire. "Cynthia Brown, the American Charms professor, taught me a new song." She turned her attention to Severus. "When I first heard it, I immediately thought of you."

Severus scowled. "If you start singing about the Grinch, I shall not be amused,"

Rose rolled her eyes. "As if!" She smiled gently. "Seriously, it really reminds me of you."

He took Hermione's hand as she joined him on the sofa with Harry. "I shall look forward to it."

The music started and Rose smiled at Harry, then at her mother, and sang to Severus,

"Do you remember me? I sat upon your knee. I wrote to you with childhood fantasies.

This is my grown-up Christmas list, this is my only lifelong wish, this is my Grown-up Christmas List..."

As the song ended, Hermione sniffled and she made a little moue of apology as Severus handed her his handkerchief. Harry said rather hoarsely, "I think I'd like to put in my order for that list as well, Rosie."

Rose smiled at Harry, then looked at Severus expectantly, and he could tell in her expression she knew his thoughts. He cleared his throat. "Albus used to say that music was a magic far beyond all we do." He gave Rose a tremulous smile. "I hate when the old poof is right."

Everyone laughed, and Rose looked at Severus and Hermione, and her eyes filled. "You know, all those years ago when you took me to see Father Christmas. Remember, Severus? The year you came to live with Mum and me?"

Severus, not trusting his voice, merely nodded. She returned his nod, understanding. "Well, this is what I asked for. A home filled with those I love most in the world." Her voice broke, and the tears spilled over her eyes. "I got my wish!" She kissed her parents, then Harry, then turned back to Severus. The affection in her eyes was just as warm and gentle as the first day she'd breezed into his life, dropping his breakfast tray on the floor in her excitement at finding him awake.

This little girl saved my life, Severus thought, not for the first time. In every possible way a life can be saved. He knew of no one else, even his beloved wife, whom it could be said had loved him from the moment they met, and whose opinion of him had never wavered.

Softly, he replied, "It was the same thing I asked Father Christmas for that year as well, Rose." He kissed her cheek. "I told you he was listening."

Hermione sniffed. "Gods, we are turning into such a bunch of sops!" She laughed, sweeping a tear from her lashes.

"Speak for yourself, Madam," Severus said loftily, then brought his wife's hand to his lips. He retrieved his handkerchief and wiped his eyes. "Now dry your tears, woman. You still have a grand finale to sing."

All good things come to an end, Severus thought, as Hermione and Rose began their last song. It was the traditional finale since the Christmas after his and Hermione's marriage. The bell-like melody chimed out, then the first chord was struck, and Severus' smiled as Rose began,

"I don't want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need,"

Hermione took up the next line,

"I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree,"

Together, the girls put their hands to their hearts and sang,

I just want you for my own, more than you will ever know,

Make my wish come true, All I Want For Christmas Is You.

And off they went, prancing and singing, going through the paces of their little chorus line dance, singing like no one was listening, save the sofa. It was the same as it had been every year, and even though he knew how it always ended, Severus was filled with a momentary wistfulness.

For in the past twenty years, as they sang the last line, "All I Want For Christmas Is You!" both girls would launch themselves at him, covering him with hugs and kisses until he declared them unfit for a dignified person such as himself. They would laugh and hold him tighter, telling him he hadn't had his quota of hugs and kisses yet. And he would accept their accolades with an air of quiet resignation which fooled no one, least of all himself.

And then there had been that Christmas three years ago, when Hermione was still recovering from the awful accident. Unable to stand for long periods, she had sung the song sitting on his knee, and he and Rose had wept as he held his two witches, knowing that they'd nearly lost her, and how precious she was. She had been their real Christmas gift that year. The song had taken on new significance for him, and he'd looked forward to it since.

But this year, even though he would again welcome his wife into his arms, Rose would be going to another, for the song was no longer sung just to him anymore. It is fitting, he told himself, smiling at his girls. Be happy, Rose. Make your wizard as happy as you and your mother have made me, and I can let you go with a full heart. Even to Harry Potter.

The song was nearing its final, climactic moment, and Severus leaned over and said to Harry, "You'd better brace yourself, Potter," just as the two women rushed toward the sofa, laughing and singing, and suddenly Severus' arms were full of witches, and the love of his life and the daughter of his heart were hugging and laughing and covering his face with lipsticked kisses and his heart leapt with the thought, They chose me! and close on its heels was the thought, They will always choose me. That is my gift.

He was holding on to them so tightly their ribs squeaked and they grunted and Potter was laughing at them, but Severus didn't care. His heart was full, like the arms that held the best parts of his life together, and would always chose him and him alone. His arms were full.

His arms were full.

Finite Incantatum

I Wonder as I Wander – Appalachian Carol

My Grown-up Christmas List – Amy Grant

All I Want For Christmas – Mariah Carey

A Child Is Born - Wilder/Jones