Once upon a time there was a boy. The boy was named Severus. Or Sev for short. Sev had dark hair and dark eyes and he was very special. Because he could do magic. Real magic. And if he wanted to, he could fly on a broomstick. He didn't like that very much because he didn't like hights. He didn't say that to his friends, though. he said it was boring and immature and pointless. And none of them suspected the truth.

Sev did like to fiddle with potions. That was meticulous precision work, and he excelled at it. He also excelled at defence against dark arts. Mainly, he had to admit, because he was fascinated by the dark arts, not because he was all that interested in the defence against them. Well, of course, he did want to know how to defend himself, should he ever come in a bad situation, but that wasn't the main attraction.

Maybe he wasn't the best in the defence against dark arts class, but he could do anything, absolutely anything, with potions.

Nobody could say otherwise.

Not even that slime Black.

Sev didn't like Black. No, stronger than that. He despised Sirius Black. And the rest of them. They were so... so... low. And they broke the rules and got away with it because all the teachers found them so charming. Sick. It was sick, that's what it was. Sick and disgusting the way they, Black especially, twirled everyone around their little fingers. But not Sev. Oh no siree. Sev could see right through that charming exterior and in to the rotten core.

Black was dangerous. He had no concept of right and wrong, only of me and them. A Gryffindor shouldn't be like that. It was wrong. Indecent, almost.

Potter and Lupin, they were proper Gryffindors. Popular, studious, kind...

Pettigrew was just a tagalong. Sev did not concern himself with tagalongs. Honestly. why in the world would he?

It didn't really matter now, anyway, because of the maurauders, only Black was left at Hogwarts for the christmas.

Sev did not like the idea of celebrating christmas with Black. Christ and god and all that, was not something Sev believed in all that strongly, but he did believe in traditions and, more importantly, christmas presents.

He had already recieved quite a few by owl, and was expecting more before the twenty fifth. He hadn't seen any owls for Black, but then he hadn't been looking either. For all he knew, Black could have a treasure chamber of presents in his room.

Unlikely, yes, but possible.

Sev was not going to feel guilty.

Why should he?

No. He simply was not.

Besides, Black probably wouldn't want to celebrate, anyway.

No matter what Dumbledore said.

Sev sat in his room with his presents and waited for christmas day.

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