Author’s Note: I have been the biggest arse. I’m dreadfully sorry for the long wait. School got in my way and I decided to see the semester to its end first before continuing with the story. This has in no way been abandoned—the semester is over and I have two months to spare before beginning my spring semester in Spain. Updates will be quicker, I hope. The only thing I’m preparing for right now is my trip to South Africa for a conference, but I don’t think that will take up much of my time. For now, this story is at the forefront of my mind. I hope you are still there, reading and supporting our dear Severus.

As usual, reviews help feed my very hungry muse, so I’d appreciate it if you guys left me a word or two.

Cheers.

---

Three

Christmas has always been her favorite season. In the Philippines, they would deck the school with balls and lanterns of different shapes, sizes and colors. The Philippines was always hot, even during the holidays, so her Uncle Emilio would charm the halls with a bit of snow and a colder temperature. Their version of the Great Hall would have a giant pine tree decorated with all sorts of crazy ornaments from tribes all over the country. There were parties, dances, food enough to feed a thousand and a wonderful exchanging of gifts that included all students, teachers and parents. But if there was one thing that Nala loved about Christmas in the Philippines, it was the love of family that was palpable in the air wherever you went.

She had never felt so alone, so afraid in her life. Snape’s revelation about Dumbledore’s plans rocked her world, causing her neatly coordinated strategies of protecting the school, the Order, the Golden Trio and Severus Snape to go down the drain. She was back to square one. She felt foolish and weak, like a straight-A student getting an F for the first time in her life. She was terrified out of her wits, and she would have to piece everything back together one by one. The game had changed, and the ball was not in their court.

She had never yearned this much for a Philippine Christmas.

Nala was not used to the cold of winter. Despite the warming charms and the lit fireplace in her quarters, she still felt the cold seeping through her skin, but she hardly cared. She was sitting on the couch, staring at the small package on her lap. Maybe her Uncle Emilio was right. There was a part of the memory in the cave that she didn’t show Snape. She thought it exhibited her weakness, her Achilles’ heel, and that it would have been best not to reveal that to anyone, most especially the man who treaded the lines of both the Light and the Dark. She remembered her steadfast determination and the pain in her parents’ and uncle’s eyes when she went against their wishes.

“Are you insane, Dante? Sending Nala out there? And alone nonetheless!” Emilio argued.

“Why not?” countered the Elder with thinning gray hair, Ophelia. “She graduated top of her class, was privately tutored by the best Jesuit wizards on the Asian continent. She’s educated in both Ancient and modern magic. She’s the best of the best.”

“Exactly!” Emilio replied passionately. “We need her here, to teach the next generations.”

“And what, leave her and her brilliance here to rot?” hit back another Elder. “We send her to Dumbledore and she gets to learn more than her peers will ever get the chance to learn! And when she comes back she’ll be able to teach our children more than we could ever teach them.”

“You send her out there, and she’s going to get killed.” Emilio turned his steely gaze at Nala. “She’s brilliant, yes. In theory. But what of experience?” No one responded. “She has nothing to show for it.”

Nala, who had been silent the whole debate, cleared her throat and caught the attention of the bickering Council. “That’s enough, Uncle,” she told Emilio softly. She turned to Elder Dante and calmly said, “I will accept, should the Council decide to send me.”

Elder Dante gave her a curt nod. “Thank you for your courage, Nala. But the Council has not heard from Julio and Athena.” Everyone turned to Nala’s parents. “Have both of you anything to say about your daughter’s pending assignment?”

Julio took Athena’s hand. They looked at each for a moment, and at the same time they both turned to Nala. Her parents, her brave parents, who had almost died under Voldemort’s wand, were looking at her now with concern, pride and fear. Nala blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall. The Council waited in silence for their remarks.

It was Athena who spoke first. “Julio and I have seen firsthand what Voldemort is capable of. We were sent prepared with our knowledge and our magic, but we had not imagined the extent of Voldemort’s understanding of the Dark. Suffice it to say, despite our education and our skills, we were ill-prepared to protect the Potters should we have arrived on time.” Athena looked at her husband. He nodded at her, and she seemed to draw strength from that. “We assume that Dumbledore would have new knowledge on how to defeat Voldemort, and that is an advantage that we are grateful Nala has. However, we agree with Emilio when he says that Nala is not properly trained for this assignment. She has been sheltered behind the walls of our community, behind the walls of the Ateneo all her life.”

“But nonetheless,” her father continued, “we are confident that should the Council agree to send our daughter to assist Dumbledore in his plans to defeat Voldemort, she will rise up to the challenge valiantly and honorably. We shall not impede on the decision of the majority, however, we shall not participate in the voting.”

Nala gazed at her parents lovingly as tears started to cascade down her cheeks. They had allowed her to follow her heart despite their objections. They were proud of her. They had faith in her. But they could not let her go. They were still, despite everything, her parents, and she was still their little girl.

“Very well,” Elder Dante announced, breaking the heartbreaking silence between Nala and her parents. “All those in favor of allowing the daughter of our community, Nala Dominique Ayala, to assist Dumbledore in the cause of the Light, please raise your hand.” Six Elders raised their hands – her parents and Emilio did not, as expected. Nala nodded at Elder Dante indicating that she accepted the Council’s decision. “May it be known that on this day, the twentieth of July, nineteen ninety-six, the Council of Elders of the Ancient people has agreed, six to nine, that Nala Dominique Ayala, aged twenty-three, will assist Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore in his cause to vanquish the Dark Lord Voldemort and safeguard the Wizarding population of Britain and the world from his Dark magic. May she be guided by the Ancient magic that lives within her.” He paused for a moment. Then, “Call forth Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore for the oath-taking.”

Nala hadn’t noticed that tears had started to fall. She wiped them away before the teardrops landed on the package on her lap, dampening the paper, leaving evidence of her melancholy, of her flaws. She would cry now, she would let it all out, and when she was done, she would plan again, start from scratch, use her genius. She would use theory – damn Uncle Emilio to the ends of the earth – and she would just have to earn experience as she went along. Wasn’t this all a learning experience, after all? It was a question she wasn’t sure she had the right to ask.

The devil’s advocate within her answered. Yes. A learning experience that would cost dozens, if not hundreds, of lives.

God, she missed her parents, and her home.

And dammit, could this place get any colder?

She took a deep breath, cast another warming charm around herself and put her emotions aside. There was time for that later. Now, it was Christmas at Hogwarts. She would be happy, she would smile and greet people that walked by her. She would be happy now because who knows when blood would start spilling?

She stood up, gathered some strength, smiled and headed towards the dungeons to Severus Snape’s quarters.

---

She found Snape sitting on his desk marking papers with a frown on his face. He didn’t hear her enter, and she observed him for a while. The war was etched on his face, showing how consumed he was by his role as a spy. He had suffered too long and too hard. If she would not win this war for Dumbledore or for Harry, she would win this war for him, for his sacrifice.

Funny how she felt emotionally attached to this man she barely knew, this man who refused to open himself up to anyone.

“Still working during the holidays?” she said suddenly.

Snape looked up, surprised. He set aside the pile of essays he was grading and managed to give Nala a small smile. “It’s the only thing I find normal these days.” It was such a simple and ordinary statement, yet one that carried so much weight. Nala understood and nodded. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Aren’t you due at the Burrow today?” he asked.

“The train doesn’t leave for another half-hour.” She walked towards him, carrying the small package on her left hand. “I came to greet you a happy Christmas, and to give you this.” She extended the package to him.

He took it hesitantly from her, disbelief obvious on his face. “Should I open it?”

“Yes please.”

He did, slowly and uncertainly. It was a book, a small one that was not bigger than the palm of hand. The binding was black and silver, and the book gave off a warm, blue glow. It was friendly and welcomed his touch.

Nala grinned, obviously contented with her choice for Snape’s Christmas gift. “It likes you.”

“You speak of it like it has a soul.”

“Of course it does. All my people’s books have souls.”

Snape almost dropped it from shock. “Nala, this is... I can’t accept this. I’m not... like you.”

Nala shook her head. “Of course you can. Look.” She took the book from him and opened it, showing him the contents. “It’s a book on improving and strengthening mental barriers during Occlumency, and also has some techniques on fighting off torture and the Cruciatus. There are some pages you won’t be able to see because you’re not an Ancient, but those pages that you will be able to see would be very useful to you. Especially now that dark times are coming.” She returned the book to him.

Snape was speechless. “Nala, I can’t thank you enough. This is a wonderful and thoughtful gift. I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“Believe me, Severus, you deserve more than my kindness.” There was silence between them as Snape studied the book in his hands. “Well, I’d best be going. Happy Christmas, Severus.”

“Wait, Nala,” Snape said as she was just about to leave.

“Yes?”

“How do you say ‘Happy Christmas’ in your language?”

“Maligayang pasko,” she told him with a smile.

“Well then, ah... Maligayang pasko.” His British accent was thick and it sounded like gibberish to Nala, but she didn’t care. She walked back to him and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you after the holidays. Stay safe.” And then she was gone.

He returned to marking abysmal essays, Nala’s gift tucked inside his robes near his heart, not knowing how to feel about all this.

---

Christmas at the Burrow was probably the closest thing to Philippine Christmas that Nala was going to get. It was, for one, warm, which delighted Nala to no end. And the presence of more than a dozen people was quite a treat. She met Remus, Tonks, Kingsley, and other members of the Order. Food and drink were endless, provided round the clock by the wonderful Molly Weasley. Fred and George were persistent with their ‘entertainment’ (which was really just a showing of all new products of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes). Laughter was everywhere and for the first time since leaving her country, Nala felt a little semblance of home.

“Nala.” There was a comforting hand on her back. She put her mug of eggnog down and looked up at Arthur Weasley’s pleasant, welcoming face. Nala hurriedly stood up. “Mr. Weasley.”

Arthur chuckled. “Nala, please. Sit down. And call me Arthur.”

“Yes, of course.” They both sat down. “Thank you for having me in your lovely home for the holidays. I know it was on Dumbledore’s orders, but nonetheless, thank you for your hospitality.”

He waved away her gratitude. “Nonesense, Nala. Dumbledore’s orders or not, we’d have you either way.” He took a cookie from the plate in front of him. “How are things at home? Dumbledore was very vague about the reasons why you could not return to Spain for the holidays.”

Nala gave a mental sigh of relief. Arthur’s confirmation that her cover was intact to the rest of the Order members eased her restless mind. Despite Dumbledore’s promise that only Snape, Minerva and Hermione Granger were to know the truth about her, she wanted to be sure. “He wants me close, I think. I prefer it too.”

Arthur nodded. “Of course, of course. With the war brewing and all.”

“Yes.”

Just then, Hermione entered the living room, looking tentatively at both Arthur and Nala. “Mr. Weasley? Could I talk to Ms. Ayala for a bit?”

“Of course, Hermione.” Arthur took another cookie from the plate and stood up. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

Hermione stood in front of her looking a slightly uncertain about what she was going to say. “Would you like to sit beside me, Hermione?” The girl nodded and took Arthur’s seat beside Nala. Hermione remained silent, still not sure with how to go about talking to Nala. “Miss Ayala -”

“Call me Nala, Hermione. I’m not that much older than you,” she said jokingly. Hermione smiled and lowered her head, but still she said nothing. “Don’t be scared. I know why you want to talk to me—Dumbledore has told you, has he not?”

“Yes, and I’ve been to the library, but they don’t seem to have any books about your kind. I have a lot of questions, Nala. I hope you don’t mind me asking.”

Nala laughed. “I’ve heard about your tenacity in class, Hermione. But I’m bound to answer any questions you might have, so ask away.”

Hermione thought for a moment, going through her mental list of questions first. “Your country, the Philippines – is everyone an Ancient?”

“No. We’re a people of a rather small population—no more than five thousand living in the islands of Palawan and Siquijor.”

“And your magic, I don’t quite understand how it’s different from ours.”

“Remember what Dumbledore used to say about Ancient Magic? About love being one of them, that it was a magic that no one really understands?” Hermione nodded. “Well, that’s the magic that my people and I have. We are direct descendants of the very first witches and wizards, those that were here during the Creation. This magic is kept in our books and our rituals – we continue to learn, understand and wield it, unlike the rest of the wizarding world.”

“That’s fascinating,” Hermione replied in awe. “So you are, essentially, more powerful than us?”

“I wouldn’t say that, no. Our magic is different. We are attuned to a different set of magical laws.” Nala shrugged. “That’s the best way I can explain it.”

Hermione changed the subject, temporarily contented with Nala’s answers about her kind. “Dumbledore told me that your parents were here during the First War.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Nala affirmed her.

“Was it your parents, then, that saved Harry that night at Godric’s Hollow?”

Nala smiled. Hermione was indeed the brightest witch of her age. “Well done, Hermione. Yes, it was my father who cast the Ancient spell that shielded Harry from Voldemort’s Killing Curse. But it wouldn’t have been possible without Lily Potter’s sacrifice, I’m afraid,” she told Hermione sadly. “Lily would have died either way.”

“Oh.” Hermione looked down at the floor.

“No one could have done anything to save Harry’s parents, Hermione. Not even my mother and father.” Nala lifted Hermione’s chin to cheer her up. “Ask me another question.”

Hermione hesitated, but proceeded nonetheless. “Dumbledore also said that you’re here to protect us.”

“Yes. I’m here to protect the school, protect you, Ron, and Harry.”

“From Harry’s lessons with Dumbledore, I’m under the impression that sooner or later, the three of us will go into hiding. If you’re supposed to remain as the school’s librarian, how will you be able to protect us?”

Nala smiled and took something out of her pocket. It was a simple gold chain with a small, flat, disc charm in the middle. “I’ve heard about the Dumbledore’s Army coins that you created last year.” She clasped the bracelet around Hermione’s left hand. “This is something like that. Touch the charm with your thumb,” she instructed Hermione. The Gryffindor did as she was told, and Nala uttered a short incantation that was foreign to Hermione’s ears. “Now it’s designed to respond only to your touch.”

“So you’ll know where we are?”

“Yes. When you need me, you need only to touch the charm and say my name. I will Apparate directly to where you are. Wherever you are,” she reiterated, and Hermione nodded. Nala’s mood shifted from amused to somber. “Hermione, I’m sure Dumbledore has ordered you to keep this information in the strictest of confidences. You are not to tell even Ron and Harry, do you understand?”

Hermione nodded gravely. “Of course, I understand perfectly.”

Then Nala smiled again. “Any more questions? I hardly think you’re done with the interrogation.”

Hermione laughed and shook her head. “I think that’s all I need to know for now. There will be plenty of time to talk after this war is over.” She touched Nala’s knee. “I know how lonely it must be for you to be so far away from home. Thank you for doing this, Nala. Thank you for helping us. I don’t know how else to express my gratitude.”

“We fight the fights that need fighting, Hermione.”

Hermione smiled at her in agreement, and as the Weasleys poured back in the living room for supper, Nala’s thoughts lingered on what she had just told Hermione.

But are these fights worth all the sacrifice?

Nala took a good look at Hermione and Harry as they laughed at Bill’s joke. They were so young, yet so burdened with responsibility. What in the world was Dumbledore thinking, playing with children’s lives?

There will be plenty of time to talk after the war, Hermione had said. Nala smiled sadly. Provided, of course, that they all lived through it.

---

He gripped the black velvet box tightly as he waited for Nala beside the entrance of her private quarters. She was due to arrive from her Christmas at the Burrow and he had expected her to arrive with the students on the Hogwarts Express, but the sun was setting and she wasn’t in the castle yet. He was a little worried.

But his worries were for naught. Not a second after he started thinking of going to Dumbledore to inform him of her absence, she practically bounced in the halls, happy as a little girl on her birthday. He stared at her in amusement. “I see you’re cheerful today,” Snape told her.

“Severus!” She rushed to him and gave him a big hug. “How was your Christmas?”

He scoffed. “Uneventful.”

“Did you finish the book I gave you?”

“Yes. It is an amazing book, Nala. The knowledge it provides is indispensable. Thank you,” he said gratefully.

“It’s nothing, Severus.” She opened the door to her quarters. “Well, do come in.” She lit the fireplace and took of her coat as Snape made himself at home. “Hermione Granger talked to me while at the Burrow.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “She spent the holidays with the Weasleys?”

“Apparently Dumbledore thought it was safest that she stay away from her parents for a while.” She set the tea on the coffee table and handed a cup to Snape.

“As much as I loathe to admit it, the Headmaster is right.”

“The Headmaster is right about a lot of things, Severus.”

“I loathe that about him, too.”

She laughed.

“How was your Christmas, Nala?”

She shrugged. “It was alright. The sheer number of people in that tiny little house is enough to make anyone feel the Christmas spirit.”

“You miss home?”

She smiled at him sadly. “Very much.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be.”

They were silent for a while, watching the fire burn in front of them. The hand Snape was resting on the black velvet box twitched in anxiety. Nala noticed his apprehension. “Severus, are you alright? You seem to be a little uneasy tonight.”

“I wasn’t sure about this, but after you gave me the book, I thought that this was the least that I could do.” He handed her the box.

Both of them had gotten much closer ever since she had taken care of him that night he came back from the Dark Lord’s Summons, writhing on the floor of his quarters. She was an interesting conversation partner, never hesitating to prove that she was right whenever they were in a debate – and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, she was right most of the time. She was intelligent, fierce, and a breath of fresh air – despite the depressing tone of the war and the impending confrontation between the Light and the Dark, she was constantly smiling and laughing. We won’t have time to laugh later, she would say as they spent long nights in the dungeons, talking about anything, everything but plans. But they would always end up talking about strategies and Dumbledore and Harry. They would always end up talking about how unsure they were of surviving the war.

He had enjoyed her company, her friendship and the hope that she had brought him. This was the least that he could do for everything that she had done for him and, he would imagine, the many more things she would do in the course of this war.

Nala opened the box and her eyes widened in surprise. “Severus, it’s beautiful.” It was a necklace—thin, silver chain that held a Slytherin-green pendant no bigger than Nala’s thumb. The beauty was in its simplicity, and Nala absolutely loved it.

It was the necklace that at a point in his past, he wanted to give to Lily, a physical representation of his apology for calling her a Mudblood.

“It was my grandmother’s. She bequeathed it to my mother when she married my father. It was among her possessions when she died,” he told her, pushing away the memory of calling Lily a Mudblood, the memory of standing in front of the Fat Lady clutching the necklace in his hand, begging for Lily’s forgiveness.

“It’s beautiful. This is a family heirloom, Severus, I can’t accept this.” She handed him back the box.

He thrust back the box to her chest. “Heirloom? Please. This never saw the light of day in my mother’s hands - she hated her own mother.” He took the box from her, opened it and unclasped the necklace. “Please, Nala. It’s the least I could do after all that you’ve done for me.”

“But Severus, it’s my job –”

“Please.”

She sighed and nodded. “Alright. But just this once, do you understand?”

He smiled. “May I?”

She turned around and held her hair up, allowing Snape to clasp the necklace. She turned around and looked at him, the necklace hanging beautifully on her neck. “Thank you,” she said.

“Happy Christmas, Nala.” And without warning, he pulled her into a kiss.

In the years to come, he would never understand why he did it. Maybe because it was the softness of her skin on his fingertips when he put on the necklace, or maybe it was the scent of her hair, a scent he couldn’t quite figure out (was it jasmine?). Either way, he did not care, because when he kissed her, she tasted like licorice and honey and it was addicting. No matter how much his mind screamed at the illogicality of it all, he followed his heart and his body, giving in to the want to touch her, to smell her, to taste her, to have her.

And when he did have her and they looked into each other’s eyes, he found that he was no longer seeing Lily’s bottomless green eyes and her beautiful face, but rather the intense hazel eyes and possessing features of this mysterious Nala that he held underneath him. She kissed him and together they went to explore the dimensions of human existence known only to both of them, connecting their magic, never to be separated.

---

Later that night, as they dozed off in each other’s arms, basking in the afterglow of making love, an unspoken ultimatum hung in the air around them: this can never happen again.