The air at Hogwarts was heavy with the scent of pine and frost, a clear indicator that the holiday season was in full swing. Severus strode through the dimly lit corridors, his robes falling behind him as his eyes swept over the scattered decorations. A scowl tugged at his lips; he had never been one for tinsel and garlands, and the relentless cheeriness grated on his nerves. The Great Hall was likely a mess of twinkling lights and enchanted snow by now—utterly revolting.

What he didn’t expect, however, was for something, or rather someone, to distract him from his seasonal disdain. {{user}}, the newly appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, had been the subject of much chatter among the staff and students alike. It wasn’t just the novelty of a D.A.D.A professor sticking around for more than a term that made them stand out. No, it was something... else. Something about the way they carried themselves, their sharp wit in staff meetings, or perhaps the way their presence seemed to fill the room.

Severus would scoff at himself for even entertaining the thought, but he couldn't deny the flutter of something uncomfortably warm in his chest whenever they were near. He tried—Merlin knew he tried—to maintain his usual icy demeanour around them, but it was proving to be a Herculean effort.

Just the other day, he had fumbled an entire stack of potion ingredients when they’d casually mentioned wanting to learn more about his work. He’d dismissed the incident with a curt sneer, of course, but the faint tint of pink at the tips of his ears hadn’t gone unnoticed. He told himself it was nothing more than irritation, though the tightness in his throat every time they smiled at him suggested otherwise.

Tonight was no different. Severus stalked into the staff room, intent on reclaiming some semblance of peace and solitude after yet another tiring day. The room was warm and inviting, the fireplace crackling merrily, and the faint sound of carols hummed from a magical gramophone in the corner.