Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments):
Assignment # 7
Arts & Crafts
Task #2: Write about someone recieving a Weasley jumper (someone who we don't see actually get one, and no other Weasleys, inc. canon marriages and children to Weasleys).
2018 Yearly Event: Insane House Challenge
First Line: Karma is a bitch!
Writing Club: Always Open
Days of the Month
Bat Appreciation Day - Write about Severus Snape
April Monthly Challenge - HOUSE CHALLENGE - Going, Going, Gone!
6. Word: Violently
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Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter universe, or any of it's characters.
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Beta Love to Alana, who looked this over and caught all my mistakes, then helped me figure out how to get where I was trying to go with this when I had written myself into a corner. She is truly an Angel sent from Heaven.
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This story very firmly sits in the AU category. Both Snape and Dumbledore are somewhat OOC, but it fits the story for them to be so.
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"Karma is a bitch!" Severus Snape growled as he looked at the seemingly innocent package that had arrived in his quarters whilst he was sleeping, then he began to fluently cuss. He really had thought he had done it anonymously. Create an antivenom for Nagini's poison, deliver it to St. Mungo's and make sure they knew how to get the dosage correct, then get out before anyone sees him. That was the plan. Well, that plan was buggered to hell since someone had obviously seen him delivering it to St. Mungo's. Which meant that the package in front of him was a means of the Dark Lord showing his displeasure.
Though usually the Dark Lord prefered to do his torture in person, as he liked seeing his victims writhe violently on the ground and beg either for their lives or for death to claim them — whichever seemed more likely at the time. Maybe this was a portkey to a new torture location?
He scanned the package again. Every scan he had done showed no darkness, no ill intent, no malicious substance. Yet, it was here. On Christmas. He never received wrapped presents on Christmas morning; not even Dumbledore had the elves deliver presents to him on Christmas morning. So it must be a trap. He just couldn't figure out what kind of trap.
He prodded the package with his wand again, still wary. The Dark Lord was violently vindictive since returning — perhaps he had invented a new form of torture that couldn't be detected by the normal scans. And he had just recently broken Bellatrix Lestrange and the other Death Eaters out of Azkaban; they were very much still insane from their years incarcerated — it was only logical that they would have thought up different ways to hurt people when the dementors weren't around. He cast some more scans, then growled.
He started pulling books off their shelves, anything related to detection. Hours later, with a flair of magic, the equation he had been working on finally solved. He had his new detection spell — one that should detect everything from a simple jinx to some of the darker curses he could find in his library. Feeling accomplished, he waved his wand toward the package and shouted the incantation.
Nothing. His spell didn't find even a hint of magic on the package. Could the Dark Lord have found a muggle means of remote torture? Was that even possible? Well, of course that was possible: the muggles called it a bomb. Oh, Merlin, could this be a bomb set to go off when opened?
He sighed. There was nothing for it, he would have to ask Albus for help. Maybe if he surrounded the area around the package with a containment spell, Albus would be able to cast a slicing spell at the twine holding the package closed and therefore open the package from a distance. That way, at least, if it was a bomb or if there was any curse or poison released upon opening, the containment spell would hold it until they were able to identify whatever it was and cast the counterspell. He walked to the mantle and grabbed some floo powder before slashing his wand toward the empty fireplace and starting a fire. The flames turned green as he threw in the powder and called out softly, "Headmaster's Office."
"Albus, do you have a moment? I would like you to take a look at something down here in my quarters." He paused for a moment before grumbling, "Please."
"Ah, Severus. Happy Christmas! Surely you can bring whatever you want to show me to the Christmas party, can't you? You are required to attend, don't forget." Albus' voice was very cheerful, and he didn't seem to understand what it was Severus was asking of him.
"Headmaster, I really need you to come down to my quarters," he repeated again, angrily.
"Oh very well, step aside then." Albus said before stepping through the open floo connection. "But don't think for a moment that I'm going to let you talk your way out of attending this year's party. It was bad enough you managed to talk your way out of attending last year; this year I simply won't allow it…" Albus' voice trailed off when he looked at his Potion Master's face. His eyes were dark as the night sky without any stars, and worry lines were marring his face. "Oh dear, what is it, Severus?" he finally asked, concerned.
"That," he gestured to the package sitting on the coffee table in his sitting area, "was left for me this morning."
"Oh, Severus, you brought me down here to share your Christmas joy with me? That was so…unnatural of you." Albus looked slightly perplexed as he tried to understand why Severus would want him to see that he received a Christmas gift this year. Severus hated christmas, and usually just tossed presents into the fire if anyone dared wrap them and leave them in his quarters for him to find. He even completely ignored his gifts every year in the Staff Room, much to the elves' irritation.
Severus growled. Actually growled. "No!" he snapped out, slashing his hand in the air across his chest. "Have you never noticed Albus? I. Do. Not. Receive. Gifts! I never have, unless someone needed something from me - or the present benefitted the gifter more than it did me. Nobody likes me, so therefore nobody gives me gifts!" The steam seemed to leave Severus, and he sank into one of the armchairs, giving the wrapped package a dejected look. "This has to be Karma, Albus. No good deed goes unturned and all that. The Dark Lord has to have found me out, and this is his twisted way of letting me know he is going to kill me. I was too obvious with my delivery of the antivenom at St. Mungo's; I should have just asked you to send it. I was just to paranoid about the dosage, so I had to deliver it to them myself." Severus groaned as he said the last, showing regret for his concern.
"My dear boy, oh, we have done a number on you, haven't we?" Albus seemed to be speaking to himself, his tone light. He sat in the chair across from Severus. "Did you never notice the gifts under the tree in the staff room with your name on them? They are there every year, unopened." Albus coughed, trying to conceal his laughter. "You are doing quite a number on the poor elves, I have to say. They have been storing and placing the gifts every year for the past...oh, it's been about 15 years now."
Severus looked up at him, shock clearly displayed on his face for a moment before it went blank. "Have you never listened to the Christmas wishes from your fellow professors every year?" Albus outright laughed when Severus frowned. "Minerva was about ready to scratch you a few years ago, when you walked past everyone wishing you a Happy Christmas with a blank look on your face and not even a glance at any of them to show you noticed them."
Severus blinked and said, "What?"
"Come, Severus. Open your present here, and then we shall go to the Staff Room for you to see what you've been too preoccupied to notice these last years, shall we?" Albus nudged the package toward Severus, a look of expectation on his face.
"If this blows up in my face, I'm haunting you for the rest of eternity Albus." Severus grumbled, reaching for the package. Using a wandless severing charm to slice through the twine, he cringed back as he unfolded the wrapping as if he was expecting something to jump out at him. He stared down at the package, a look of wonderment showing briefly on his face when he ran his fingers along the softness laying inside. As he picked it up, he realized it was a jumper - hand knitted, obviously, and made with the softest yarn he'd ever felt; the color was the darkest black to match his normal attire. Upon closer inspection, there was a single row of a very rich, dark green edging just the very bottom of the jumper, and at the very edge of the wrist cuffs. Someone had put a lot of effort into making this for him. It was a fine piece of craftsmanship.
He brought the jumper to his cheek to feel the softness against his face, a smile upon his face. "This is...beautiful, Albus. Who...who sent it, do you know?"
Albus pulled the wrapping toward him, picking up the small card tucked into the bottom of it. A huge smile covered his face, and he let out a rich laugh. "Oh Severus, you were right, in a way. This is Karma at its finest." He held out the card, waving it impatiently in front of Severus' face.
Severus grabbed the card from his fingers and looked down at it, bewildered by the simple message: "Happy Christmas, Severus! We wish you the best for this, and every holiday season to follow. You are always welcome in our home; please treat it as your own from now on. With Love, Molly, Arthur, and the Weasley family." He looked up toward Albus, feeling lost.
"You saved Arthur's life with your antivenom, Severus. I wouldn't be surprised if Molly tries to adopt you and feed you every time she sees you from now on. She loves her family above everything, and it seems that you are now considered family in her books." Albus clapped his hands, standing from his chair and guestering toward the door. "Let us go see about those presents in the Staff Room now, shall we?" he said gleefully, enjoying the shock Severus was displaying.
Severus only nodded, allowing himself to be herded along by the headmaster. He didn't let go of his jumper until classes resumed that year - and every Christmas from that point forward, he would hug a new jumper to himself, relishing in the knowledge that someone out there cared about him.
~1696 words, as counted by google docs~