Title: Simply, Merry Christmas

Summary: Someone has a Christmas visit to a certain someone else's grave.

Notes: OK, to my regular readers, once my brother's computer gets hooked up hopefully I'll have the time to update. I haven't been able to because he keeps shoving me off so he can use the internet or hovering over me.

To everyone, I know it's late but it can be a Christmas present. An early one for this year maybe?I know today is Snape's birthday and as I commented in Mugglenet's comments I would like to think Harry would leave something on his grave. I may do that fic later.

Happy Birthday Severus Snape and a very Merry Late (Or Early) Christmas to all.

His cloak did not make a sound as it dragged along behind him. The kissing gate leading to the cemetery barely made a squeak. Unbeknown to most he had taken this route before. Many, many times.

He wore no cloak on invisibility. There was no Concealment Charm. It was snowing and no person, Muggle, magical, or Death Eater, would probably be out here.

The church was empty as he made his way among the headstones. He had waited for the church to empty, but hiding where he could not be seen. Once the Muggle priest had caught him waiting o utside the church. He had gestured to him but Severus Snape had vanished before the man could speak with him.

The elderly fellow put it off as a trick of the light or his old age getting to him, for he had never seen the oddly-dressed black haired man again.

Severus made his way to the familiar white marbled grave. In the earlier times he had gone he had resented it, for both Lily Evans and James Potter were buried here. But to him now it was only her resting place. He had no concerns for her deceased husband.

He merely stood there for a while, snow swirling around him. It landed and melted against his cheeks. Otherwise it got caught in his eyelashes or hair. He didn't mind. At least he could feel it.

Finally making a movement, he pulled his wand from the folds in his cloak. Without a word several roses burst from the tip of it. He caught them, not feeling their thorns, and arranged them neatly underneath her name. They would be covered by a blanket of white in the morning.

He wondered if people wondered about the occasional flower or trinket he left as he trudged through the snow to the kissing gate. At the gate, he turned back. Through the snow he wondered if, out there somewhere, an elderly eccentric man with long white hair and a long white beard was watching him. He always seemed to know when Snape made his visits though Severus had no word with anyone about them.

Then he shrugged. It was time to go. There was nothing else he could do here.