For 's Sock Showdown, and for the "How Snape spends his Christmas" contest at . (two for one! W00t!
It was rushed. I admit it. *sigh* ...still has a lovely feel to it, though, doesn't it? I actually drew this one with a pencil, before using the computer to colour it.
PLEASE read the drabble below! I put a lot of work into it, too!

(post-HBP)

9 o’clock pm, Christmas Eve.

“…Professor?” asked Draco, tentatively.
Snape, distracted from his thoughts, looked up.
“Aren’t we going to do anything for Christmas? Don’t you ever… decorate, or anything?”
Severus' lip curled a little, though his eyes didn’t reflect true annoyance.
“Draco,” he said, very, very quietly, “we are Death Eaters. A bit beyond the mercy and goodwill of most of humankind, don’t you think?”
Draco stood silently, looking lost and disappointed. Severus sighed. He well knew how the Malfoy family used to go all-out for Christmas parties and decorations. It was only natural that he’d miss his family’s traditions, but Severus could no more give him that sort of celebration than he could return to Hogwarts for the holidays.
However, he could probably provide some sort of distraction.
“You may decorate this place however you like. I don’t bloody care as long as you take it all down later. Have Wormtail help you. ”
“And if he doesn’t want to help…?”
A smirk spread across Severus’ face. “Tell him that I strongly suggested he do so.”
Three hours later, Severus was almost impressed. Draco certainly had inherited his family’s flair for décor. There was no Christmas tree, but still, the dingy, threadbare little parlour was looking nearly festive with red and white candles and little bunches of holly and pine boughs. The cobwebs had been turned to silvery tinsel, clinging to the corners of the room. A few old, cracked potion bottles were Transfigured into colourful baubles and hung as lovely focal pieces, and Draco, grinning like an idiot, was putting the finishing touches on the tiny fireplace mantel, hanging up one of his socks.
“Draco, aren’t you just a little old for Father Christmas?” asked Severus, with an odd expression on his face.
“Yeah, I am. I don’t care,” replied Draco, looking embarrassed but still excited. “Wormtail hung one as well. Would you like one too, Professor?”
“No, thank you, Draco. We’d all best be getting to bed. We can’t be sure when the Dark Lord may call us.”
“Yes, sir.”
Severus hung back for a while after Draco (and, presumably Wormtail) had gone to bed. He stared at the decorated fireplace mantel for a while, and then went to the tiny pantry. From the very top shelf at the back corner, he pulled down a dusty little box.
Out of the box, from under some cracked and broken baubles, he pulled a small, faded, moth-eaten stocking.

“I suppose I could use a bit more coal,” he sneered sadly, and hung it up beside Draco’s stocking.