Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all public characters, and the world of Harry Potter. There is no intention to violate copyright.
Christmas at the Weasleys
Friday, December 25, 1998
A Christmas Armistice
Arthur Weasley met us at the gate leading to the Burrow, as did his youngest son. Did Potter set me up? My appraising gaze landed on the young Master, and I realized he was equally surprised. Arthur's smile reached his glistening eyes when he greeted the youth, "Happy Holidays, Harry." He wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and received a hug in return. The elder Weasley's expression sobered as he acknowledged me, "Merry Christmas, Professor Snape."
He received a nod in greeting as I offered, "Indeed, to you as well, Mr. Weasley."
Ronald said nothing while he gazed at the ground in silence. Arthur kept an arm over Potter's shoulder, and whispered to the youth. Harry gazed at me while he gave the man a nod in answer. Something was not right about this situation, and it unsettled me when I watched the elder step back. Did Potter and I need privacy? The youth approached me and confirmed my suspicions when he mentioned, "Mr. Weasley and I need to talk." He motioned to the redheaded git and added to my discomfort when he explained, "Ron wants to speak with you."
My gaze landed on the younger Weasley, and I noted his avoidance tactics. The youth did not intend to converse. My hand motioned to the dunderhead, as I huffed, "Indeed, Sir, his enthusiasm is obvious." Potter offered me a smirk, and turned to follow Arthur. It made me uneasy, and I wished to hear their conversation. Did they plan to discuss reparations? My gaze followed them, until they walked behind the building. The redheaded git gained my attention, and I attempted to sound disinterested when I suggested, "I suppose, they wish to talk about us."
Weasley smirked at my assumption, and glanced at me when he admitted, "Yeah, Dad wants to make sure there are no bad feelings between our families." His statement made me suspicious, because I did not think they followed the traditional ways. The youth answered my unspoken question, "We have openly feuded with the Malfoy family for generations. It's not like the gits need an excuse, but we are working with Draco to resolve it."
My arms folded over my chest, and I leaned against the fence. Potter and I would have words, if he discussed my personal affairs with Arthur. My glare landed on the young Weasley, and I noted his nervousness. I did not intend to set him at ease. My bond could no longer detect the Master, so I adopted my most intimidating classroom voice when I asked, "Wish to converse, do you, Mr. Weasley?"
The bloody Gryffindor witnessed Potter's reaction to my use of damaging magic, and he knew there was no threat of detention, point loss, or further harm. I should have expected the intimidation to backfire. The youth's hands clenched into fists, as he accepted my challenge. He glared at me and stated, "It is impossible to speak civilly to you!"
It was difficult to remove the mirth from my voice, and the smugness from my expression. I attempted to sound serious, as if imparting important wisdom, "Civility, Mr. Weasley, takes discipline. Nobody expects it from a Gryffindor." The youth narrowed his gaze at me, and firmly stuffed his hands into his pockets. Anyone inside the Burrow could see, so I leaned against the fence while keeping my back to the home. The youth's response did not matter, and I let him know as I asked in a bored monotone, "Let's get this over with, shall we?"
Weasley wrinkled his nose and snarled, "You don't have to act like a total git." He glared at me, and his voice fell to a harsh whisper, "It's hard enough to apologize, without you being a bloody bastard."
My glare hardened on the youth, and I straightened to stand at my full height. With a backwards thrust of my elbows, my robes billowed outwards and helped me to seem more imposing. My voice failed to disguise my irritation, while I sneered, "Your sincerity, Mr. Weasley, overwhelms me."
"I told Hermione, nobody could reason with you!" Weasley complained as he threw his arms into the air. The dunderhead pressed his fists into his sides and charged towards me. He stopped in my personal space and retorted, "Look, Snape, my Dad, and Harry are talking about us, and our difficulties since the war."
Good, the prat needed someone to teach him respect. I offered him a smug grin of satisfaction while I stated, "I see, Mr. Weasley. You wish to make amends, to appease your head of house?" Though I could not detect Potter's presence, I knew he was close enough to feel mine. His sensing my smugness made it more difficult for me to antagonize the dunderhead without drawing suspicion. It took more creativity, and I welcomed the challenge.
Weasley stepped closer, so our chests nearly touched. He snorted at me and asked, "Snape, what will Harry think? He knows how you treat us. Did he approve of last night's conflict?" That was none of his business. The git raised his arms in irritation as he harshly whispered, "Snape, my dad threatened to observe our behaviour, and you know he will convince Harry. They would watch us at Hogwarts."
A glower answered the youth's many questions, and I turned my back to him. How dare he threaten me with my head of house? Would Potter approve of Arthur's plan? That did not sound appealing. My arms folded angrily, and I stood in silence to contemplate Weasley's words. Unfortunately, my Master already made his opinion clear, and I suspected he would not welcome a repeat lesson. I took a few steps, and turned to face the git. My glare hardened on the youth while I sneered, "Indeed, Mr. Weasley. What do you propose?"
The dunderhead grinned at me, as if he already sensed victory. His arms folded while he stated, "First, we apologize and agree to treat each other civilly." My head nodded in agreement, as Potter would demand that. The stinging hex cost me greatly, and now I had to play nice with the idiotic Weasley. The Git added, "This includes classes, too. Snape, you are a royal arse to me. That has to stop, and I will show you more respect."
A disdainful snort adequately expressed my opinion, and he pointed his finger at me while he stated, "I'm serious. You are a right nasty git." My brows narrowed accusingly at him, but he did not intimidate so easily. The dunderhead continued in a more conversational tone, "I owe you an apology, Snape. I was angry, and I blamed you for Fred's death. I knew you were not responsible, but that was how I felt. I looked at you, and I saw a death eater. It infuriated me that you lived, and I treated you badly. Mum made me watch your memories again, and, well, I was a royal git. So, I'm sorry."
The youth placed his hands into his pockets, and cautiously studied me. It was shocking to hear his confession. Did the Weasleys get through to him? My glower softened into a mild glare as I stated, "You understand do you, what respect is?" His eyes narrowed menacingly at my question. My glare hardened on the youth, and my voice became deadly when I accused, "Threatened me, with another paddling? Amused your friends, did it, to humiliate your Professor?" The youth lowered his gaze to the ground, and redness coloured his cheeks.
Weasley's shoulders slumped, and he kept his fists firmly planted in his pockets. He kicked a clump of snow. Eventually, he glanced at me, and he spoke with sincerity, "Yeah, about that. I apologize, Sir. I meant it as an inside comment and I did not think others would understand. I should have realized someone would figure it out. I will stop using insulting names when I speak of you, and I will try not to show as much hostility." That sounded acceptable. The youth broke eye contact, and his gaze fell to the ground when he muttered, "Sorry for getting you into trouble with Potter. It wasn't your fault."
Of course not, I seldom made lapses in judgment. Weasley received a nod of acknowledgement, but I had no wish to discuss my affairs with the dunderhead. He often demonstrated his lack of discretion, and I suspected the entire school to know of our situation. Potter's involvement would make it worse, so we needed to end the conflict. My voice sounded gruff when I stated, "Indeed, Mr. Weasley. I accept your apologies. I suppose, I should offer you one as well." However, I failed to see why.
The youth stiffened as I asked for forgiveness, but he gave it. Weasley looked at the house as he muttered, "Don't forget your promise." He received a nod in response, and then he asked, "How do you want to handle future disagreements, Sir?" What an odd question. My brow rose at him, as I silently asked for more information. The youth seemed to understand, and he explained, "You are a beast at school. You take house points, and give detention. Complaining to Harry is my only option. Do you want that to continue, or can we handle it ourselves?"
My back stiffened, and I glared at the youth. With a deepened voice, I clearly enunciated my words, "Threatening to snitch, are you, to my head of house?" Weasley scoffed in response. My cloak swished behind, as I swiftly turned towards the dwelling. I spoke in a dismissive manner, because I wasted enough time with this discussion, "Send me an owl, Mr. Weasley. If you need to discuss this, we do it in private." The youth nodded his head, and we strode to the Burrow without another word. Would he honour our truce?
Burrow
Molly met us at the door, and motioned to the enormous table, "Welcome back, Professor Snape." She looked at Ron and asked, "Where is Harry?" He glanced over his shoulder, and pointed to where we last saw them. She rolled her eyes and mentioned, "That's not important. Everyone to the table, breakfast is ready."
Someone transfigured the kitchen. It went well beyond my skills, and I stared at the many changes. The room grew to a larger size, and the table accommodated many more people. At least, we could sit in comfort while we pretended to enjoy ourselves.
Several breakfast items revolved around the centre of a large circular table. It had twenty thickly padded chairs set in various places, and it could easily accommodate more. Several people gazed at me, while I walked towards an empty seat. Despite the bond having failed to heal me, sitting was no problem. I had little doubt, about why they stared. It unnerved me, and I hated what they suspected. My scowl had them soon looking elsewhere, and I easily took my seat. Molly looked relieved, and that humiliated me. At least I managed to mask my emotions, but I wondered what Potter told her.
It intrigued me to watch the food slowly rotating around the table, but I did not serve myself. Instead, I sat with my hands folded in my lap. Molly glanced at me, and her voice filled with concern as she asked, "Professor Snape, why aren't you eating?"
My eyes slowly closed, and opened as I recalled Potter's command about obeying her orders. Did that include her questions? The bond urged me to respond, and I knew I had my answer. Why did she ask that? The last thing I wanted was pity. My voice became monotone, because I attempted to avoid calling attention to myself, "I must wait, for Mr. Potter."
The kitchen fell into a state of silence, and I lowered my gaze to the plate. That was mortifying, why did Potter command me to obey them? Granger was the first to speak. Her voice filled with concern, as she gasped, "Professor Snape, you are not able to eat until Harry?"
"Indeed, Miss Granger, that is exactly what it means." I stated in the most bored sounding tone I could manage. I had no wish to dwell on this conversation, and her gasps of indignation failed to amuse me. At least this was not a concern in the Great Hall, because he sat outside my bond's range.
The woman promptly came to my defence, and she snapped at her dunderhead boyfriend, "Just wait until I talk to Harry. That is unacceptable!" She turned towards me with a look of pity. Her voice lowered, as if she spoke to a child, "Sir, you know it is wrong for Harry to do that. It is not fair that you have to wait until he eats." My scathing glare did not end her unwanted comments. The insufferable-know-it-all had all the wrong answers, and she spoke with an unwarranted level of confidence, "Help yourself to some food, and I will talk to him for you."
Was she serious? She annoyed me more than normal, and that was saying something. I was about to retort when Bill lightly teased, "Hermione, you can't honestly think Harry made that rule." The woman looked confused, until he added, "Curses work in terrible ways. I suspect they hate it more than you." The young professor received a firm nod for his astute observation, and it was with satisfaction that I watched Granger's face redden.
George turned to his younger brother and called out, "Ronnikins toss me a muffin!" My lips curled at hearing that name, and I stared at the younger Weasley. I would remember it for later. It amused me to see his face change to match his hair. He glared at his laughing brother, picked up the requested muffin, and threw it hard at the other youth. George caught it easily.
Molly ignored the antics of her children. In truth, it would have surprised me if she said anything. The family seldom acted properly, and I wondered if the children knew better. My gaze landed on Miss Weasley, as I thought of her and Potter. Their children would understand manners, of that I would make sure.
The family heads arrived shortly after the others started eating, and I hungrily took my first bite. The breakfast was delicious, but the company made too much noise. It intimidated me, and I attempted to block them. Someone tried to converse, but I could not focus. Instead, I concentrated on my meal. It consisted of a slice of toast, two pieces of bacon, and an egg. Molly stared at me in disbelief. Her voice lowered when she said, "Professor Snape, you hardly ate anything. Please, have some more."
My stomach had all it could handle, and I dreaded eating another bite. Was that a command? Potter sensed my panic through the link, and I felt his gaze on me. Did he fail to hear her order? My eyes flicked from my plate, to Molly, and then the youth understood. He shook his head at me and quietly mentioned, "Severus is unable to eat large quantities of food." My gaze never left my plate.
Bill broke the silence when he smirked and teasingly stated, "That explains all the sweets. Nutrient potions fail to offer the same energy as a spoonful of sugar." He had an addictive laughter, and earned a grin from me as he mentioned, "That is a perfect excuse to go directly to dessert. My friend, many envy you."
Ron glanced at me, and took another bite. He barely swallowed before he mentioned, "Harry doesn't eat much either."
The elder Weasley gently scolded his son, "Ronald, mind your own plate."
Ginny glanced at her brother and scoffed, "Ron, it doesn't surprise me that you notice how much people eat. The more they take, the less is left for you." It was the dunderhead's turn to blush, as his family erupted into laughter. The youth could not deny the accusation, because he knew it was true. It pleased me to see the attention on another. Breakfast ended, and the family moved into the living room.
Potter recognized the chair I earlier transfigured, and motioned for me to take a seat. He created another, and we watched them hand out gifts. I received a homemade sweater from the Weasley family. It was black, and had a large green 'S' outlined in silver. Potter had one similar, but his had the letter 'H' and it was in the gaudy Gryffindor colours. We politely thanked the Weasleys, and it pleased me he signed his gifts from the Potter family.
The youth handed me a large present, and everyone stared when I stood to unwrap it. The thing nearly reached my waist, and it was as wide. My mind reeled at the many possibilities, and I thought of the last time I was eager to open a gift. It was the year before I went to Hogwarts. My mother hid it from Tobias, and she gave it to me after he passed out. Normally we had no money for such frivolity. In the box was a brand new pair of gloves. Nobody had worn them! I was so excited, and I hid them between my mattresses.
My lips curled, as I stared at the present. For a moment, I did not want to damage the paper. Potter urged me, so I carefully removed each piece of tape. Ron's complaints amused me, as he watched me slowly unwrap my gift. Inside was a brand new slow-brew cauldron. It was the largest size available, and it had several books describing the many potions made through the unique process. It was difficult to hide my elation when I said, "Sir, this is a wonderful gift." Naturally, the link told him everything.
Potter smiled at me, and quickly opened my gift to him. He stared at it dubiously, and tore into the box to check each piece of his new quidditch kit. The youth sounded enthusiastic when he asked, "Is the yard at Prince Manor large enough for us to play? Thanks for the quidditch set!"
He could not assume I wished to take part in that silly game. He saw my skill at flying, when I had to referee. My head shook in response, as I calmly answered, "Perhaps, Sir, your friends would like to practice with you on the quidditch pitch. There is one at the manor."
Several mouths hung open at my explanation, as did Potter's. Ron was the first to speak, "Blimey, Harry, did you hear that? You have a ruddy quidditch pitch in your backyard!" That sounded dreadful, and I hoped it was a ways from the home. The youths chattered endlessly about spending time at the manor, and I lost myself in my new potion books.
Chat with Potter
The noise became unbearable, but so was my curiosity. I needed to know what Potter and Weasley talked about, and I asked the youth to follow me into the study. His agreement pleased me, and I cast 'Silencio' on us. The youth sat in a chair, and I leaned on the desk as I mentioned, "Sir, if you do not mind my asking, what did you and Mr. Weasley discuss?"
Potter went silent. That did not bode well, and I held my breath. The youth thought for a moment, as I slowly released it. He glanced at me and softly mentioned, "Mr. Weasley expressed his concern for you, Severus." Ugh, I knew it. I no longer wanted to hear, but I did not want him to stop. He had my attention as he continued, "He observed your enslavement, and he knows I punish you. He saw my reaction last night, and it worried him. He wanted me to know that it was not your fault."
My face reddened, and my stomach clenched. Why did people insist on pitying me? Was it impossible for them to grasp how much I hated it? I wished to know my answer, but it was difficult to ask. My mouth opened, and then it shut. Eventually, I finally managed, "Sir, did you tell him about my punishment?"
The youth shook his head, and Potter spoke with sincerity, "No, Severus, I promised not to discuss the details. He never asked." That was a relief, and I wished Ron took after his father. The youth continued to explain, "That was all he said about you. It was not your fault, and he told me about Ron's anger at you having survived while his brother died. He only saw your tattoo, and his brother was a good man."
It was difficult to feel overjoyed knowing someone wished your death. However, the youth continued, "Ron looked at you and he saw a death eater. He was not looking at Severus Snape, but the man who murdered his brother. They showed him your memories, and he finally believed that you did not kill anyone. Dumbledore's death was an exception, because he planned it."
My gaze fell to the ground, and I glanced warily at the youth. The bond urged me to tell him, but it was difficult. We fell into silence, and I could not look into Lily's eyes. Potter gently touched my elbow, and his voice sounded concerned when he demanded, "Severus, what are you not telling me?"
My voice sounded much younger, as I finally admitted, "Sir, Fred is not the one I killed. However, there were others." Potter placed his fingers under my chin, and he gently applied pressure until I lifted my head. My gaze met his, and he motioned for me to continue. I dreaded this conversation, but we needed it, "Sir, it was the worst mistake of my life. It was the reason I could not look at you, could not stand to see you. It was why I hated you, because you reminded me of that night. I used the excuse of you looking like James, but that was not the entire truth."
Potter's eyes widened at my confession, and I assumed he fully understood. However, he did not pass judgment. Perhaps, he would finally end it. We stood in silence, and he waited for me to continue. It was impossible. Instead, I removed a pouch sewn into the pocket of my robe. From it, I retrieved a pensieve. We cleared a spot on the desk, and I placed the small object in the middle before I cast the spell to enlarge it.
My voice was barely above a whisper, as I mentioned, "Sir, you once asked me about your mother, and I refused to speak with you. My enslavement, made it too difficult for me to exist. The burden of my guilt would have destroyed me. I had to release my memories of your mother. It was too painful to serve you, look into her eyes, and to live with my guilt. Every memory I ever had of Lily, is now in this pensieve. Please watch it, and then you will have your answers."
Potter's eyes brightened, as if he thought this was the best gift he ever received. The youth eagerly dipped his face into the stone bowl, and I took a seat knowing it would take him hours. It was nearly time for dinner, when he removed himself. The youth's face was splotchy and red, and I knew he had cried. It was likely he had tears the entire time, because he never knew his mother.
My stomach clenched when he gazed at me. He knew everything I did about Lily, and how my actions destroyed his family. My heart beat wildly in my chest. We stood in silence, while he regained control of his emotions. Potter's firm voice startled me, as he commanded, "Severus, look at me." My heart felt like it stopped, but I did as instructed. The youth continued to speak with the earlier firmness, "Severus, you did not kill my mother. You are not to blame. Release that guilt, because it is not yours to hold."
The bond granted me freewill with my thoughts, and it never penalized me for them. It stepped in, and refused Potter's command. The bond would not allow him to control my mind. It relieved me to know I had that protection, but I appreciated the words of my Master. Potter hugged me firmly, and I accepted. It felt good to tell him the truth, and I removed the silencing charm.
The Pensieve helped greatly, and I suspected it was the reason I could acknowledge Rosmerta. My memories of Lily kept me from noticing other women, as I had no wish for another. My pain was too great, and my love was too strong. Lily would always stay in my heart, but now I had room for another. Potter and I barely pulled ourselves together, when Molly called us for dinner.
Christmas Dinner
Mrs. Weasley was an excellent cook, and the meal was delicious. However, the conversation was too loud. Draco and I exchanged painful glances, as we sat in silence. It was impossible to hear anything, because everyone talked at once. It infuriated me, and then I had an idea. Without wand or words, I mentally cast 'Silencio' on myself.
Unfortunately, Potter noticed a withdrawal of power, and he knew I used magic. My shield disintegrated within seconds, and the youth grinned at me. Obviously, he did not approve of my solution to the Weasley problem, but he found it amusing. I let the link tell him of my dissatisfaction.
George stuffed mashed potatoes into his mouth, as he gazed at Potter. That made me curious, and then the young man asked, "Harry, are you coming to the Burrow for our New Year's party?"
No, Potter, say no! Unfortunately, the youth failed to acknowledge my feelings of dread, as he nodded his head. How did he not notice? He swallowed his food and mentioned, "Severus and I are leaving for Prince Manor, but we can floo back for the party."
Draco looked at me, and he understood. He glanced at Potter, and then gazed at me while he abruptly asked, "Professor Snape, I thought my Father invited you to the one at Malfoy Manor?" He grinned at Potter and mocked his younger self as he sneered, "Wait until my father hears about this!" The unexpected comment caused those at the table to erupt into laughter, and he earned a smirk from me.
Potter laughed along with the others. He glanced at me, and his voice became more serious as he said, "Severus, I'm sorry. I was not thinking. It was not my intention to make plans for you. However, you are welcome to join us."
The platinum youth received an approving glance, as I politely shook my head at the Master. "Sir, I appreciate your offer, but I have other plans." However, they were not with Malfoy. It pleased me that Draco came for Christmas, and he once more proved why he was my favourite student. How would the Weasleys and Malfoys get along together at Prince Manor? I suspected we would soon have our answer. With Potter's permission, I left shortly after Dinner.