Typical Disclaimers Apply
--
"Fa la la la la, la la la la!" Esme skipped into breakfast early Christmas morning, her face full of smiles and her arms full of presents. "I got a little something for everyone!" The orange and green sparkles on the wrapping paper glittered in the morning candlelight. She passed out the gifts to whoever was there.
"Oh how lovely!" Dumbledore opened his gift: a pair of bright orange wool socks, with a moving portrait of Dumbledore himself on the insteps, "It's just what I wanted."
"I have a knack for picking out gifts. Open yours, Sevvie!" Slowly, painfully, as though frightened of what he may find inside, Snape peeled open his gift. A sheet of brightly colored paper covered in bits of glitter and photos sat on the table. He looked, yet again, near nausea.
"Oh, a collage of all of the embarrassing photos you've taken of me over the past seven years. Heh, even the ones from the shopping trip. How…nice."
"See? I can do good with photos!"
"Most of these have been hung in the girls' bathroom," he said flatly.
"Why were you in the girls' bathroom?" She paused, thinking, "Don't answer that. Open the next one!" Snape cringed, tearing open the paper. When he held up its content, the hall fell silent, except for a soft giggle from McGonagall. In his hands was a bright orange knit sweater with pink and silver stars shooting across it. Literally. "My mother taught me to knit over the summer!" Esme giggled, clapping her hands. "I thought Christmas would be a perfect time to use my new skills! Now where's Remus? I need to give him his new knit bodysuit."
"Poor Remus has fallen ill." Dumbledore said softly.
"Poor dear," Esme said sadly. "And on Christmas? How awful, I should visit him."
"No!" Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore cried emphatically.
"Lupin's rather a bear when he's sick." Snape smirked, "Or should I say, a wolf."
"Oh, Sevvie. You and your poorly thought out, veiled insults. Hello children!" Harry, Ron, and Hermione had come into the Great Hall, all looking a bit astounded at the garish sweater still in Snape's arms. "I brought you prezzies!"
For Harry she had gotten, not comic books, but a brightly colored knit scarf, covered in scenes of poorly drawn dragons fighting and eating each other ("I feel it symbolizes your inner emotions!"). For Hermione, a book: You don't have to be a Witch to be a Bitch: How to Control any Wizard with a Few Key Phrases. And for her dear, semi-literate brother, two books: How to Deal with Horrible Phobias that will Plague and Control your Life Forever! And Ten Million Reasons why you should Blindly Obey the Women in you Life.
"Gee, Esme thanks." Ron stared at his two new books.
"Yes," Hermione said, smirking at Ron, "This will be very…useful in the years to come."
--
"Tra la la, la la la la! Afternoon Sirius! And a wonderfully merry Christmas to you!"
"It's Christmas?" Sirius looked up at her bleakly from his spot at the cracked and broken table.
"Of course it is!" she laughed. "The world doesn't stop just because you've gone into hiding."
"It's just…I haven't celebrated Christmas in twelve years, and that was with James and Lily…and now they're just gone." He stared off into the distance.
"Twelve years ago on Christmas my grandfather was arrested and sent to Azkaban," Esme deadpanned.
"Best. Christmas gift. Ever."
"You're too kind. Anyway, there's always some miserable Christmas memory for those of us who have descended from evil."
"That is true. What'd you get me?"
"Here." She tossed him the few packages she'd been holding. He opened them to reveal a few black robes, a new pair of shoes, and some bright orange knit boxer shorts.
"Oh, Esme, you shouldn't have!" Sirius wrapped her in a warm hug.
"Aww, anything for my favorite homicidal maniac."
"You know it. Here, I made you something." He pulled out a large sort of centerpiece thing. It was made of tree branches. And pine cones. And some other unidentifiable objects. "It was supposed to be more of a thank-you gift, but now that it's Christmas…"
"Oh, Sirius, um..." She stared at the…thing in her hand, feeling somewhat like Snape must have felt when he unwrapped his sweater.
"It's a…something you should probably regift," he blushed deeply.
"Yeah."
"When I'm free I'll buy you something nice and shiny."
"Ooh! I love shiny things!"
"Somehow I guessed."
--
"…So Hermione took it to Professor McGonagall and now she says that they have to test it for jinxes and hexes and I don't know if it'll get hurt! Oh God, you've got to help!" Ron and Harry pled before Snape, Esme and Remus, who were all leaning against a wall, looking like the formidable force they weren't.
"You know Potter, I could help. If only I cared…" Snape said wistfully.
"It's for the best, Harry," Remus said gently, "If there's something wrong with the broom, we couldn't have you getting hurt. I'm sure if it's cursed the shop could get you a new one."
"You know, it just doesn't sound like something Sirius Black would do. It actually sounds more like your father…" Esme trailed off, looking at Snape pointedly.
"My dead father?" Harry inquired.
"No I mean Severus."
"What?" Ron, Harry, and Remus asked in unison.
Snape smacked Esme's arm gently then stage whispered. "You weren't supposed to tell him until he's of age!" At that, Harry and Ron, looking slightly incredibly horrified, quickly walked away. Remus stared in disgust.
"You two are what nightmares are made of." The trio of darkness, the name Esme was secretly calling them, began strutting down the hall.
"You do realize that Sirius doesn't even have a wand; it's destroyed upon entry to Azkaban," Esme said conversationally. The boys stared.
"When did you and Black become friendly on a first-name basis?" Remus said slowly.
"I'm not sure. Maybe mid-November," she shrugged.
"I knew it! I knew you were helping him! All I need is some proof." Snape rubbed his palms together, scheming.
"And unfortunately, you have none. And I must go chat with Professor Dumbledore about you harassing me. Again." Snape stared after her as she wandered away.
"Well that was…crazy," said Remus, staring at Snape like he'd just stripped down to his boxers and began to tap dance. He didn't like thinking about Snape in anything less than boxers.
"Yes, Miss Slain has been known for saying the first nonsensical thing that comes to mind."
"I meant you."
"Yes well, perhaps the young lady is rubbing off on me."
"'The young lady'?" His eyes widened horrifically, "Oh good Lord, you're in love with her!"
"No, no. It's merely…have you ever considered adopting a child?" Snape stared wistfully after the path Esme had just taken up to Dumbledore's office.
"No, I would probably end up eating it. Anyway, I can't exactly see her calling you 'papa'."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not."
"Also, doesn't Esme already have legal parents and a family she loves?"
"You know, Lupin, nobody likes a killjoy."
--
"Oh my God, Professor Dumbledore. I know that this isn't a religious school and there's no confession, but I gotta tell someone." Esme stumbled into his office, her face flushed crimson.
"What is it Esmeralda?" Dumbledore's eyebrows climbed up his forehead.
"It's so bad. I thought it would be fine but it's gotten way out of hand."
"Whatever it is, you can tell me."
"You promise you won't be mad?"
"Yes, I promise."
"Okay, so for the past few days, since Boxing Day, actually, I've been slipping mild personality altering drugs into Severus's morning coffee. I thought they'd make him a little easier to deal with, but now he's all happy and not himself and it's making me sad!" she cried out.
Dumbledore sat, fingers tented, "I see. Perhaps, Miss Slain, you should stop giving him the drugs. I know that he checks his liquids for poison every day, so perhaps this turn is due to something else."
"You really think so?"
"No, I just think it will be entertaining to watch him wonder why he no longer feels like he's wrapped in warm blankets." Dumbledore smiled kindly. "Lemon drop?"
--
A/N: Surprise!
