This is a delayed bit of holiday cheer; mainly to soothe the writer's block I'm experiencing with regards to my other story, The Houseguest (incidentally, anyone interested in offering their services as a beta for that story, I would be greatly appreciative).

The strange inclusion of The Beatles is entirely random and just for the fun of it.

Obviously, I own neither The Beatles nor J.K. Rowling's characters. Their genius is entirely their own. Enjoy and Happy New Year!

---

For the benefit of Mr. Kite
There will be a show tonight on trampoline.
The Hendersons will all be there
Late of Pablo-Fanque's Fair, what a scene.



The wind kicked up a fuss, swirling snow and pushing back the hood from the curly head of the youngish woman, making her way up the winding streets of the old mill village. Despite herself, Hermione Granger could not keep a very Snape-like sneer from forming on her lips as she yanked and tugged at the uncooperative cloak. Righting the hood once more, she stopped her progress and turned to her young companion.

"All right, darling?" she yelled over the howl of the wind.

"S'ppose," came the muffled reply from beneath the layers of cloak and scarf wrapped securely around the head of the young girl. Hermione nodded, grabbed the girl's hand, and began her trek again.

The streets of the village were entirely devoid of activity, the shops closed down in observance of the coming holiday. Occasionally, they would pass a residential home, the windows glowing warm and inviting with festive holiday lights. Hermione scowled and dropped her chin to her chest in order to keep the snow from her eyes; not for the first time did she curse the man for whom they were making this trek.

Would it have killed him to set the anti-Apparition wards a little closer to his house? or to lift them just long enough for them to Apparate to his doorstep? Lousy bastard, her mind supplied. It always seemed as though he got his way in instances such as these. Instances that left her annoyed and ill-humored, trudging through a snowstorm on Christmas Eve.

Hermione felt a tug on her hand and lifted her head to see that they'd finally reached Spinner's End. She pushed open the low wooden gate, and quickly trotted up the path, her energy renewed at the thought of the warmth on the other side of the front door. The little girl at her side, her excitement visible even through her scarf-obscured face, knocked on the door. Rat tat tat tat Rat tat. It was their special signal.

The door swung open almost immediately, and they both quickly entered.

"I could kill you, Severus Snape," Hermione growled as she made quick work of removing her wet cloak before turning to the young girl and unwrapping the many layers.

"We had a deal," he replied, a low, dangerous tone in his voice. She looked up and found herself struck by not only the firm determination in his eyes, but also the desperation - she knew how much he needed this. He quickly blinked away any trace of those emotions and turned a warm smile to the young girl beside her. "And how are you this evening, my love?" he inquired pleasantly, bending a bit and holding out his arms. The young girl, now freed of her cloaks, sweaters, and hats, grinned and ran into his waiting arms.

"Daddy!" she yelled happily as he lifted her up and hugged her tightly. Pulling back and studying her sweet, pink face, he ran a hand affectionately through her curly black hair. A wistful look on his face, he kissed her head; Hermione could not help but be warmed by the easy affection this man held for his daughter.

"Why don't you go and check on Mr. Kite, Penny?" Severus suggested, seeing the strange look on Hermione's face.

The little girl turned towards her with an excited look. "Can I, Mum?"

Hermione, ever-enchanted by her daughter's beautiful smile, nodded her head, and watched as Penny jumped out of her father's arms and raced up the stairs in search of Mr. Kite, her cat. Hermione turned back towards Snape.

"Cold out?" he asked with an evil grin. She sneered; he chuckled. "You're quite adept at that."

"Yes, I can't imagine where I picked up the habit," she replied, frowning over her shoulder as she searched the pockets of her cloak, at last retrieving two small packages. A wave of her wand and the tiny packages were restored to their original sizes, revealing a travel bag and a wrapped gift. She set both on one end of the couch along with her gloves. "I don't know why you insist of having the ward perimeter set so far out from your house, Severus," she complained, seemingly for lack of anything better to say.

"Hermione," he started, his voice weary, "we've been over this numerous times, it's a safety precaution."

She rolled her eyes and seated herself in one of the large leather armchairs nearest the blazing fire. "The war ended almost twenty years ago; you have no more enemies."

"It's for Penny," he retorted quickly, and then, seeing that she didn't believe him in the slightest, amended his statement. His voice was quiet. "It can be... difficult to break old, well-worn habits."

Sensing the truth in his words, and the effort it took him to speak them, Hermione relaxed her ire and smiled at him. "There are others you've broken."

Snape smirked, knowing exactly to what she was referring. It had taken months for him to break the habit of calling her 'Miss Granger' all those years ago. She'd told him again and again, sometimes multiple times per day, to cease calling her by a name that made her feel as if she were eleven, and for months and months, the first thing that came to mind when he looked at her was 'Miss Granger.' He smiled recalling the numerous legendary rows that had resulted from this hard-to-break habit.

Just then, more lucidly then he'd have liked, he recalled the moment when he'd finally been able to break it; it was the moment she'd kissed him for the first time. Her mouth so soft and wet, her body anything but that of an eleven-year-old girl, he'd been unable to call her anything but 'Hermione.' It had been that way ever since.

He looked up and found her staring into the blaze, fidgeting nervously with the edge of her blouse. For the first time since they'd arrived, he noticed that she was dressed in nice Muggle clothes: a pair of pressed black trousers and a blouse of rich green silk. The hair around her face was pulled up in a clip at the back of her head, letting the rest of it fall in soft curls that shone in the firelight. She was wearing the pair of emerald earrings that he'd given her sometime during their relationship, their first Christmas perhaps? At the thought, a strange longing stretched upwards from his stomach to his chest, tightening on his heart; she looked lovely.

"I should be off," she said suddenly, having felt his eyes upon her. Having experienced the same longing, only mixed with her own confusion. Confusion because they'd decided years ago that this would never work. He was too surly and set in his ways, she was too needy, wanting more than he could give. The day he'd left she'd been heartbroken, but happy to see the back of him. For her own resolve, she'd hoped never to see him again; a month later she'd discovered that she was pregnant with Penny.

"Where are you headed?" he asked, startling her out of her thoughts. "I mean, you look well, Hermione ... beautiful actually." He could almost imagine that a faint flush crept up her cheeks.

She stood to examine the photos on the mantle, still fidgeting with her shirt hem. She always fidgeted when nervous.

"I'm off to the Potter's." There was a subtle challenge in her voice, as if she expected him to fly off the handle, like he would have done all those years ago.

He simply shrugged. "I hope they're well."

She turned and stared openly at him, and then, as if coming to her senses, schooled her features. "Yes," she replied. "Ginny's pregnant again - their fourth - and the entire family will be there tonight." There was a definite undercurrent of weariness to her voice. "Including Ron and that woman."

Severus could not contain his laughter. "Although I will never be a champion of Mr. Weasley and his family, he has been married to 'that woman' for over ten years now, Hermione; her name is Lara."

"I know, I know," she said, caught up in her frustration with Ron's do-gooder, ever-young arm candy. "I just ... I suppose there are some things that I've had a hard time letting go of as well."

Severus's eyes cleared and he nodded his head. Quite well did he recall how Lara came into the picture; as classic a rebound case as there ever had been. Even though Hermione and Severus had dated for well over two years, Ron had always clung to the belief that he and Hermione really did belong together. He took it as a personal blow when Hermione became pregnant; he knew then that they'd never be anything more than friends. Lara happened to be the first person he'd dated after his initial period of shock and disappointment. A young blonde, six years his junior, his friends and family had been convinced it would never last, skeptical when he'd proposed, and certain they'd divorce within the first year.

As she often did when the subject of Lara came up, Hermione related these feelings to Severus and he nodded his head indulgently, pretending as though he hadn't heard these complaints a million times before. "We all thought they'd divorce and ten bloody years later I'm still having to attend gatherings with that cretin."

At this Severus laughed heartily, clutching his stomach. Ten or even five years ago, eager to please everyone, Hermione never would have said something so blatantly ungenerous.

Finding, as she always had, his laughter infectious, Hermione began to chuckle. "She is," she insisted vehemently through her laughter. "I was discussing some new potions trials the Ministry is running and I mentioned Deadly Nightshade, and Lara got all excited and said, 'Oh Hermione, I've been looking for a new lipstick! Is Deadly Night shade more of a red or pink?'"

Even her voice at its high, Lara-mimicking octave could not drown out the laughter of Severus Snape. By the time he'd gotten a hold of himself, tears were running down his cheeks. "And you're willingly subjecting yourself to this?"

"I know," she replied, wiping away her own tears of laughter. "Merlin, I can't stand her." Hermione sat again. "She talks to Penny as if she were an infant," she admitted, knowing that this fact alone would cement completely Severus's dislike of Lara.

He frowned. "It's lucky then that the Weasleys have been unable to have children of their own to patronize." His voice was serious and she knew from his tone that what he really desired was to find Lara and belittle her to the point of tears. Hermione smiled triumphantly, and a comfortable silence descended on the room.

After a few minutes, Penny came skipping down the stairs, a black and white ball of fur cradled in her arms. With remarkable ease - especially considering Severus's former reputation with children - Penny climbed into her father's lap and rested her head against his chest.

"And how is the celebrated Mr. K, my dear?" he queried, quirking an eyebrow at Hermione; how he'd always loved this joke.

"He's well, but he and I are hungry, Daddy," Penny replied as Mr. Kite jumped off her lap.

"We'll have dinner soon, love, but I think there's a small Pumpkin Pasty on the kitchen counter that I have been saving just for you."

Penny smiled broadly, kissed her father on the cheek and headed for the kitchen. As always, Hermione was enthralled watching the easy exchange between Severus and their daughter.

Admittedly, when she'd first become pregnant, she'd been paralyzed by fear at the prospect of Severus Snape as the father of her child. Would he sneer and treat her to the same vicious sarcasm that he'd served up in, and out of, the classroom at Hogwarts? Would he deduct points from her even before she'd been sorted into a House? They'd broken it off, and a month later she'd had the terrifying task of informing him that they were going to be parents. Just remembering the day she'd Apparated to Spinner's End to tell him made Hermione ill.

But of course, he'd surprised her, and everyone else privy to their relationship, by being entirely calm and amenable to the situation. He certainly hadn't been bursting with fatherly pride, but he'd dutifully attended every appointment at St. Mungo's, fetched her whatever she'd needed, and calmly took every kind of abuse she'd leveled at him during her long and painful delivery. No, it wasn't until after the birth, the first time that he'd held Penelope Eileen Granger, that something shifted irrevocably in the countenance of Severus Snape. Though neither admitted it, both knew that he'd fallen utterly in love with his daughter that day.

He was still an insufferable bastard at times, but Penny had never had a cross word from him. Though he imposed strict rules with her, he was always kind, and she loved him to pieces for it. When she was with him, she was happy, and when she wasn't, Hermione always knew she was thinking of him. Through his daughter, Severus Snape had become a changed man.

Covertly, Hermione snuck a glance at her former-lover. Severus, watching the fire burning in the hearth, looked quite well, she thought. His hair, the texture much improved now that he wasn't constantly exposed to a classroom of steaming cauldrons, was shorter than he used to keep it. It was shaggy and, though she'd never admit this to Severus, reminded her a bit of Harry's unruly locks. It was, of course, peppered with more grey than she recalled from previous years, but somehow it made him look distinguished and just a bit more approachable. His nose was as hooked as ever, but the time since the war had done wonders at lessening the harshness of the lines on his face. Certainly, he would never be traditionally handsome, but Hermione suddenly realized that his was a face she very much loved to look at. A face she would love to wake up to.

Heat crept into her cheeks and she quickly rose from her seat. "I think it's time for me to leave," she said, her voice a bit more raspy than she'd expected.

Severus stood as well. "Hermione, why don't you stay for Christmas Eve dinner?" He flashed her a rare smile, as if he knew it would undo her.

"I ... I have plans," she stuttered. Emotions and memories were rushing at her like a swiftly mounting wave; she needed to get out of the way before it crashed down upon her. She moved to call Penny from the kitchen, and suddenly felt his hand grasp her own.

"Would you truly prefer to spend the evening with the Mrs. Weasleys?" he whispered, his voice low and deep and trickling down her spine like warm oil, slick and tantalizing; her heart rate quickened. "Have dinner with us."

She turned to find his face only a few inches from her own, his eyes searching out her answer.

Losing herself in the dark swirls of his eyes, she tried to recall all the reasons she hated him, all the reasons they'd parted years ago. But he'd been a different man then, and she a different woman. The people now standing in the living room at Spinner's End seemed to have almost nothing in common with those people from all those years ago.

Dumbfounded by this realization, Hermione could only nod her assent.

Dinner passed in surprising tranquility, the conversation light and humorous. Penny laughed with delight as Severus cut the turkey with a theatrical flare, and even Hermione couldn't hide her amusement when he took his bow at the end of his performance.

The food was quite good, and when she at last pushed her plate away, it was with a contented grin. "That was spectacular, Severus, as always."

Quirking an eyebrow and smirking, he placed a hand over his heart and inclined his head. From across the table, Penny made an unsuccessful attempt at covering a large yawn.

"To bed, my love," Severus proclaimed as he swooped down and lifted their daughter into his arms. Penny's protests were relatively mild, but Hermione imagined that this had more to do with the fact that she was practically asleep already.

Silently, Hermione trailed Severus up the stairs and into Penny's room.

"Here, let me," she said before he laid her on the bed. She Summoned Penny's overnight bag from downstairs and with a flick of the wrist, Penny was in her pajamas.

"Thanks," he whispered and gently set her in bed and pulled the covers up. With a wistful smile, he brushed the hair from her eyes. Penny stirred slightly.

"Will Father Christmas come tonight?" she whispered, barely audible.

"Certainly, my dear," he replied softly, adjusting her blanket and tucking it in closer to her body.

"And ... will Mummy be here in the morning?" Her voice was barely audible and groggy with sleep. Severus turned a questioning gaze on Hermione, but before either could reply, she'd fallen asleep.

They both retreated from the room, neither speaking as they made their way down the stairs. The clock against the far wall began to chime the hour, ten o'clock.

"I should really head home," she said softly, unwilling to admit how much a part of her wished to stay. Looking up, she found his dark eyes searching her face again, as if looking for the answer to a particularly challenging puzzle. She caught his gaze and smiled sincerely.

He nodded and followed her as she went to collect her gloves from the couch.

"Oh," she said, turning back to him with a gift-wrapped present in her outstretched hand. It was the one she'd placed on the couch when she'd first arrived. "I'd almost forgotten; this is for you."

He took the oddly shaped box, trimmed in red and silver paper, from her hand, strangely at a loss for what to say. He certainly hadn't thought to get her anything; he admitted as much.

She shrugged. "I didn't expect anything," she replied truthfully. "I just ... saw it and thought of you."

A warmth spread through his chest, and before his face could betray him, he focused his attention on unwrapping the gift. Inside the box was a rolled up piece of glossy white paper about as long as his forearm. Curious. His brow furrowed as he slowly unrolled it; it was a reproduction of an old circus poster. At the top, in bold capital letters was written, "Pablo Fanque's Circus Royal," and sudden realization dawned across his features. He looked up to find Hermione, studying him with an expectant smile on her lips.

He laughed in a quick, short burst, and then, seeing her eyes light up, laughed again, but harder and with more pleasure than he could recall experiencing in a very long time.

"Being for the benefit of Mr. Kite, (late of Well's Circus) and Mr. J. Henderson," he read off the poster, laughing so forcefully that tears fell down his cheeks. He couldn't believe that for the second time in one night, he was crying with laughter. He couldn't believe she'd found this and was giving it to him.

"Apparently Lennon took his inspiration from it," she supplied through her own laughter, knowing that he wasn't really listening, but not caring. She'd never seen him this happy. She'd made him this happy, her present; she felt like flying.

All those years ago when they'd been together, they'd spent a long weekend at her parents’ house, and Hermione, in her youthful exuberance, had felt compelled to introduce him to the realms of Muggle culture. Despite his continual insistence that he was as familiar with Muggle culture as he'd ever care to be, having grown up in a semi-Muggle household, Hermione had taken him on a steady tour of all those things which she loved the most. During the music portion of his informal education, she'd played him a multitude of various bands from a range of genres; there were a few that he very much enjoyed, and one of them happened to be The Beatles. They'd spent hours going through the various albums, lingering on a few in particular. "Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!" had been one of their favorite songs.

Looking at her now, Severus could recall the way they'd laughed together in her parent's living room that afternoon. They'd laughed for so long that when they'd woken up the next morning in the guest bedroom, wrapped in each other's arms, they couldn't help but laugh some more. He'd forgotten how happy they'd been most of the time.

Severus looked up at Hermione now, aware suddenly of all the years they'd shared and all the time stretched before them; there were tears in her eyes. Setting the poster carefully on the couch, he walked towards her until there was not but a few inches between them. He slowly brought his hand to her face, drawing his thumb across her cheek to wipe away her tears. There was a question written in the lines around his eyes.

"I know," she said, effortlessly picking up on his unasked question. "You know what a mess I can be. It's just nice to see you happy." She paused, lowering her eyes and taking a deep breath. Her next words rang through him. "I've missed that."

He released a breath he hadn't been aware of holding, and quickly pulled her into his arms, burying his face in the rich, familiar scent of her. "I've missed you, Hermione."

They held each other there, like that for a few minutes, indulging in the heady remembrances of all the times they'd shared. All the love, and laughter, and frustrations, and sex, and arguments. The millions of moments they'd discarded all those years ago over a few, seemingly unimportant rows. She laughed. "We were complete idiots, Severus."

Pulling back he studied her face and nodded. "Quite clearly." His voice deep, he bent his head towards her own, claiming her lips with the fervency and passion of a man who'd just realized how close he'd come to losing everything. She responded readily, dropping the gloves that had still been in her hand. She no longer planned on leaving.

When they at last parted, she smiled up at him, her hand tracing the lines of his face. "Let's go to bed, Severus."

As they ascended the stairs, Severus turned back to cast a quick Nox on the rooms, and noticed the cat sitting on the couch, examining the rolled up poster with nose and paws. All too aware of the mischief cats were wont to make, he levitated the precious gift to a higher shelf, looked the animal directly in the eye and said, "I'll beg you, Mr. Kite, to leave that gift alone tonight."

With a flick of his wrist, the lights were extinguished, and he and Hermione laughed all the way up the stairs. They laughed for so long that when they woke up the next morning, wrapped in each other's arms, they couldn't help but laugh some more.

---

Author's Note: Thanks again for reading this. As I said before, the "Mr. Kite" reference is nothing more than a random enjoyment on my part. I also wanted to toy with the idea of Hermione giving Severus a present that wasn't a rare and ancient Potions text or something with snakes on it. Plus, I like the idea of Snape laughing.

Reviews are lovely. Again, happy New Year!