Hello everyone! Chapter 21 is here! I'm trying to post these next few chapters as quickly as possible because some pretty meaty stuff is coming up and there's a lot of writing to do. This chapter isn't overly plot-driving or exciting, but I think you'll like it. Let me know what you think and enjoy!
MetamorphmagusLupin
Wonders and Worries of Christmas
Zoe awoke and dressed quickly on Christmas morning. Quietly, she made her way down the stairs and onto the first floor corridor. She tiptoed, for she knew that it wasn't much past seven and that her father would still be sleeping. He always had a lie in on Christmas day.
Creeping quickly past his bedroom door, Zoe made her way down into the sitting room and gasped upon fully glimpsing it.
Whereas the previous night she had left it looking as it always did with copious books, sparse décor, and homey, comfortable furniture, now it was beautifully bedecked with faint twinkling lights. Holly, popcorn, and cranberry garland seemed to be everywhere and against the expanse of wall near the fireplace, there was a large, beautiful Christmas tree adorned with candles with magical, white flames and beautiful, velvet bows. At the top was a large, silvery star.
Zoe's father never made a fuss about Christmas decorations, especially not this year since most of December, they had been at Hogwarts—which had enough cheery embellishments to choke the streets of a small country, he'd said. Zoe never made much of a fuss either, at least not since one Christmas Eve when she was seven years old and had asked her father why they didn't have a Christmas tree in their sitting room as Minerva did. At the time, her father had seemed a bit taken aback by her question, almost as if he'd never considered such a notion before. His answer had been, simply, that they just didn't.
He must have sensed her disappointment then, however, for she had come downstairs the next morning to a beautiful display of Christmas wonderment similar to what she was currently viewing.
Ever since, it had become something of a tradition for him to stay up on Christmas Eve after Zoe had gone to bed to deck the sitting room in holiday splendor—with Ollie's help, of course. Zoe always considered it one of her gifts from him every year. Zoe's gift to him was the hour or two of sleep she afforded him now, whereas before she had bounded into his bedroom excitedly jumping onto his bed the instant she awoke on Christmas morning—which had notoriously been very early.
Instead, when Zoe awoke, she would look through every present under the tree, trying to guess what they were through the wrappings while separating out those for her and those for her father as she waited for him to wake up and come downstairs. Of course, her pile of gifts—though never more than modest in size—nearly always dwarfed that of her father. He said it was because Minerva insisted on spoiling Zoe while, of course, Minerva said the opposite was true. She grinned inwardly at the memory of those conversations.
Zoe walked around the small room, taking in every detail of her father's work. She reached out to run her fingers along the strings of garland and simply stared, mesmerized, at the tree which filled nearly the entire corner of the sitting room and reached all the way up to the ceiling.
It was wonderful. Her father had outdone himself this year.
Zoe felt a slight chill and hugged herself, suddenly wishing she knew the spell her father used to bring the flames up in the fireplace. Since she didn't, she crossed to a hidden cupboard next to one of the bookshelves, pulled out the solitary, fleece blanket that was kept there, and threw it around her shoulders.
She walked to the window then and looked out. A fresh layer of snow had fallen overnight, so much as to make it difficult to distinguish the exact place where the pavement rose above the level of the road. The light flurries that were still coming down made the whole scene charming, even in such an otherwise rather drab neighborhood.
Zoe stared for a long time out the window, leaning up against the sill, just enjoying the look of the wintry settings and basking in the warmth of the blanket around her shoulders.
Pop!
Zoe turned quickly to see Ollie looking back up at her.
"Merry Christmas, Ollie," she said immediately, her face breaking into an excited smile.
"Ollie is wishing Miss Zoe a Happy Christmas as well!" Ollie said, bowing low.
Zoe crossed to the floor in front of the Christmas tree then and sat down to begin separating the presents.
"Ollie will cook Miss Zoe a warm breakfast," Ollie said as she started to walk toward the kitchen.
"Nothing for me, thanks. I want to fill up on Christmas dinner."
"Ignore that, Ollie," Zoe heard her father say a bit sleepily, but still commanding.
She turned to see him coming down the last step into the sitting room and cross to the sofa, wearing only black trousers and a plain, white t-shirt. He waved his wand toward the fireplace to bring up the flame.
"Zoe will eat a light breakfast whether she wants to or not," he said, eyeing Zoe with mild authority.
Zoe didn't argue. There was no point, really. Also, an argument over something so insignificant would only ruin Christmas Day.
She smiled weakly at her father as he sat down on the sofa.
"Merry Christmas, Papa," she said. He merely nodded his head as his way of returning the sentiment. "The decorations are brilliant. Thank you. I think the tree's bigger this year than it's ever been."
"It most certainly has more useless baubles than any other year," her father said as he gazed at it, looking it up and down. He looked back to Zoe. "Courtesy of Ollie, of course."
Zoe nodded and smiled wider. She loved everything about the decorations, including anything her father thought was in excess.
She sat touching the bows on packages for several minutes before she heard a heavy sigh from her father.
"Well? Are you going to begin opening your gifts or do you prefer them in the wrappings?"
Zoe looked up at him with a surprised expression.
"But you always make me wait until after breakfast," she stated.
"Yes, well, you're looking particularly wistful to open them this year."
Zoe grinned from ear to ear then reached first for a present in front of her, and handed it up to her father on the sofa who merely set it in his lap to wait for Zoe to select her own first gift.
Once she had chosen it, she looked to her father again. When he had given his nod of permission, she dug greedily into the paper of the small package she had selected. When she'd ripped it all away, she looked up at her father quizzically, holding a black, velvet jewelry case in her hand. She opened the lid, which creaked on its hinges, and regarded her gift in awe.
Nestled within a cushion of cream-colored satin was a pair of earrings. They were green, princess-cut, emerald studs with silver posts; they matched her hummingbird necklace exactly.
Zoe snatched the wrappings from the box off the floor to view the label she'd initially overlooked.
To: Zoe
From: Papa
Zoe looked up at her father in amazement and then down to her earrings again, then back to her father. She didn't know what to say. The emerald studs were so beautiful.
"They were your mother's as well," her father said then, apparently realizing that his daughter was at a loss for words.
"They match my necklace," Zoe managed to say as she pulled the chain and hummingbird charm from beneath her shirt. She looked up to her father again. "Thank you, Papa. I love them."
Her father inclined his head and Zoe giggled, suddenly seeing the unopened package still sitting in her father's lap.
"Papa, you have to open your present."
Her father looked down at his gift, seeming to have forgotten that it was there in his anticipation to see Zoe's reaction to her present. He began carefully peeling back the wrappings as Zoe tore into more of her presents. She sat all the other gifts for her father at his feet.
Obviously, with such enthusiasm on Zoe's part, she made short work of unwrapping everything. She had already sneakily ripped into a few chocolate frogs from John and was looking through one of her newest books when her father had finally finished opening his gifts. In the end, Zoe felt it had been a pretty good haul for the year.
She'd received a new pair of pink gloves and a scarf from Caroline while Lottie had sent a beautiful, seashell mobile that Zoe intended to hang near the window in her bedroom. In addition to the earrings, her father had given her some books—An Enjoyable Compendium of Magical Theory for the Young Witch or Wizard, Depths of the Mind: Steps to Mastering Occlumency and, surprisingly, Broomsticks of the 21st Century—as well as a few articles of clothing he felt she was lacking or that she had complained about having outgrown in her wardrobe—namely jumpers and a few skirts for school wear. And, of course, he'd gotten her the stationery set she had asked for.
An hour later, having eaten breakfast and presented Ollie with a gift of butterbeer and a new hat, Zoe sat tightly nestled against her father on the sofa, scanning through one of the books he'd received from Minerva—Aboriginal Potions and Elixirs of the World. They talked softly about the various ingredients required, which potions he should attempt first, which ones Zoe thought she could brew either on her own (none, in her father's opinion) and which she'd want to tackle with a bit of supervision.
After they'd flipped through the book for quite some time, her father closed it and glanced over at her.
"Well, do you believe you've been sufficiently spoiled enough to last you until next Christmas?" he asked, smiling slightly.
Zoe grinned. "I suppose so."
Her father leaned forward then, resting his elbows on his thighs, and causing Zoe to push away from him and sit on the very edge of the sofa. He looked down at the sitting room floor before him where Ollie had stacked both Zoe's and his various presents into neat piles while they'd eaten. He looked to Zoe.
"I do believe you've missed one," he said.
Zoe wrinkled her brow. "What do you mean?" she asked, looking around at the sweets, books, clothes, and other items at her feet. She looked up to her father who wore an uncharacteristically playful smirk on his face.
"You've missed a present. I could have sworn that I told Ollie to put it under the tree with the rest, but she obviously thought it better suited to its hiding place…"
Her father, still smirking, took out his wand and flicked it toward the very cupboard Zoe had taken her blanket from earlier. The thin door opened and many of the items within floated out and came to rest on the floor nearby.
Her father lowered his wand and looked at his daughter's perplexed face. From her vantage point, Zoe couldn't exactly see into the cupboard and her father's behavior was a bit odd to her, so she was wary.
"Well? Go on, then," her father said with only a tiny bit of annoyance in his voice. A hand on her back encouraged her to stand and make her way to the cupboard.
It took only a step or two for Zoe to see inside and when she did, she immediately looked back to her father with wide eyes, shocked, to say the least.
"It's for me?"
"Unless you believe Scorpius would prefer it?"
Zoe shook her head adamantly and turned back quickly, somehow worried that if she took her eyes off it too long, it may turn out to be only an apparition.
There, leaning against a corner of the tall, narrow storage cupboard was a sleek, brand-new racing broomstick with a big, red bow tied rather haphazardly around the handle. Zoe moved closer to it, touching it and feeling the instant pulse of the magic within. She gazed down at the perfectly groomed bristles, the polished feet rests, the narrow, though comfortable-looking seat.
She pulled it from the cupboard and turned to look at her father.
"A Jetstream 1200?"
"It isn't the top of the line, by any means—certainly not the Firebolt that Minerva suggested—but I believe it to be more than adequately hazardous for an eleven-year-old girl."
"It's brilliant!" Zoe exclaimed, no longer able to contain her enthusiasm.
She crossed quickly to her father and flung her arms around him, inadvertently pushing him back against the cushions of the sofa with her force that she was practically laying on top of his chest, hugging him enthusiastically, her new broomstick clutched at their sides.
"I love it, Papa!"
"I wouldn't have guessed," her father said sarcastically, as he shifted in order to put his arms around Zoe while moving back into a sitting position.
Zoe giggled. "I can't believe you got me a broom! Thank you!"
"I found it an appropriate gift for a natural flyer."
Zoe nodded. "May I go ride it now?"
Her father leveled her with a stern look. "No. You know that riding it here will be next to impossible. Minerva has plenty of space in Portree within her wards, so you may fly there until you are a second year. Then, of course, you may take it to Hogwarts."
"But I won't even be at Minerva's until the summer! Please, Papa. Can't you do that Disillusionment thing again? Nobody will see me."
Her father's demeanor changed quickly as his distaste for whining and pleading kicked in.
"Nobody will see you, including myself, and you are not flying unsupervised until you have completed all your flying courses. So, no. I will not do that Disillusionment thing. Full stop."
Zoe frowned and pushed away from her father then, but she didn't argue further, knowing it was futile and likely to just land her in trouble. That didn't mean she wasn't feeling resentful. What was the point of even getting her a broom if she couldn't ride it now? He should have just waited until next year…
She heard her father sigh heavily beside her and she looked over at him with irritated eyes.
"I must admit that I did not put a lot of thought into the logistics of when and how you were going to be able to fly your new broom. Therefore, I think it only fair that a compromise be made for today."
Her father paused to make sure that he had her full attention.
"You will not fly it in Spinner's End. That rule is absolute. However, owing to the fact that Hogwarts will be all but deserted, when you and I visit with Minerva this afternoon, we will take it out for its first flight on the Quidditch pitch. Aside from that, you will be allowed to take it to Hogwarts with you for the remainder of this year, but it will reside in my quarters, only to be used under my sole supervision. Is that clear?"
Zoe thought about his stipulations for a bit. It seemed fair enough considering no other first year would have their brooms in the castle for recreational use, even if it had to be under the watchful, somewhat-overprotective eye of her father… And she'd get to take it out that very day…
"Okay," she conceded, giving her father a smile. She perked up considerably after that, talking animatedly about flying for several minutes until her father stopped her and told her to go get dressed for Christmas dinner at Hogwarts.
Having already sent Zoe through moments before, Severus stepped out of the Floo in the Headmistress's private suite to find his daughter already showing off her new broom to her godmother. His entrance going utterly unnoticed, he pulled the wrapped gifts for Minerva from his pocket and enlarged them before placing them under the tree.
"…and Papa said I could fly it here later today since I won't be at your house until this summer," he heard Zoe say to her godmother.
Minerva glanced up to Severus then as he moved to pour himself a pre-dinner glass of wine. She inclined her head slightly as a greeting before focusing back on the girl before her.
"I see… It's a shame you won't be spending the New Year with me in Portree. You would have had plenty of opportunity to fly above the gardens of Budhmor Firth," Minerva chided her goddaughter.
Severus didn't even need to turn around to know that his daughter had started to fidget.
"I know," Zoe mumbled lowly. "I'm on restriction until term starts."
Severus turned to see that Zoe had taken a seat on the sofa next to her godmother. Slouching, she gave him a resentful, accusatory look as he approached one of the chairs. He paused in his stride and raised a stern eyebrow.
"Do not give me that look," he reprimanded evenly. "You knew far better than to enter the cellar that day."
"I know… But, why the whole holidays?" the girl had the audacity to complain. Why she was being so argumentative today, he didn't know.
"Oh, please," Severus said, annoyed. "You can hardly say that you've suffered in your house arrest. The weather's been so horrendous that venturing outdoors has been near impossible, I've assigned you no extra tasks as of yet, and you were still allowed to participate at the Christmas ball. Perhaps I should have taken a leaf from Mr. Potter's book and confined you to the library last night."
"No…" Zoe grumbled.
"And I've already given you permission to fly today—a freedom that could easily be revoked should you fail to improve your present attitude," he warned.
She looked away from him, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment of being scolded, but she seemed to change her behavior rather quickly. As she sat into a more agreeable posture, Severus sat down and took a sip of his wine.
"Potter?" Minerva asked then, having waited until her guests had finished their disagreement. "The Potters were at the Malfoys' Christmas Ball?"
"Hmm," Severus hummed. "I had the misfortune of having a conversation with the patriarch."
"Misfortune?" Zoe piped up then, her brow wrinkled. "You were keen to talk to him. You got angry when I interrupted you and you told me to go sit down and wait so you could finish your conversation."
Severus shot his daughter a severe glare, which didn't even make her flinch or pause.
"It's true," she pushed. "I'm just say—"
Minerva, obviously sensing that Zoe was half a sentence away from losing her aforementioned and only recently-obtained flying privileges, intervened. She put a conciliatory hand on the girl's knee to convey that that was enough disputing.
"What did Harry wish to discuss with you, Severus?" she asked curiously.
Severus merely shrugged and took another sip of his wine.
"He wished to consult with me on a number of matters plaguing the Ministry at the moment."
He hoped the statement was enough to communicate to Minerva what had been the subject of his and Potter's conversation while simultaneously indicating that it was not something he wished to discuss in front of Zoe.
As he knew she would, Minerva understood. She nodded her head pensively and then turned to look at the grandfather clock near the entrance of her quarters.
"If Zoe wishes to fly, now would be an opportune time. Our midday Christmas dinner for what few students and staff we have, has just begun in the Great Hall. There is virtually no chance you'd be disturbed on the pitch."
Severus knew that by 'disturbed', Minerva had really meant 'seen' and he would, indeed, take advantage of the opportunity.
He inclined his head and looked to Zoe, whose eyes had immediately shifted to him as she awaited his permission. Severus fought back the urge to roll his eyes at her unveiled eagerness.
"What are you waiting for?" he asked after several moments of silence. "Get your cloak. It's likely to be arctic out there."
Once outside the castle and across the grounds, Severus had limited the girl to only fifteen minutes in the air. He told himself it was because it was much too cold outside and that the less time they spent on the pitch, the less likely they were to be spotted, but the truth of the matter was that an uneasiness had settled into his gut the second Zoe had lifted into the air. His stomach had positively flip-flopped when she'd done some foolish dive-and-swoop move over thirty feet in the air. Where the girl had learned such a move, he was unsure. She'd probably picked it up watching the Gryffindors practice Quidditch sometime during her first term.
"No stunts!" he'd futilely shouted up to her more than once, only to be either unheard or ignored as Zoe had flown about the pitch at a speed that was much faster than he was entirely comfortable with.
Therefore, he'd kept his wand at the ready lest he need to cast a quick Cushioning Charm or Eresto Momentum, as he tried to relish the excited grin on his daughter's face rather than think about the danger she was in while in the air.
Over an hour later, however, he was glad that he'd allowed his daughter the expulsion of energy for it had seemed to take the impertinence out of her tongue and actions, especially in light of the other guests having arrived.
Minerva's sons, Finlay and Ewan, her daughters-in-law, five grandchildren, and her lone great-granddaughter—Adelaide, a curly redhead two years Zoe's junior—had joined them for a hearty Christmas dinner in the formal dining room of the Head's suite. Only once before had he and Zoe celebrated a holiday with all the McGonagall clan and it made for a rather interesting and pleasant change of pace.
Severus talked amicably with Ewan—a Potions Master himself—for a time, while Zoe seemed to flit between showing her Jetstream off to each of Minerva's grown grandchildren, to talking with Adelaide, to reading a book on the floor near the fireplace.
As the evening grew later, Minerva's family left, leaving only Severus and Zoe once more.
Minerva and Severus had settled before the fire with glasses of red wine to drink and talk, while Zoe had taken the cup of tea her godmother had prepared for her, as well as her book, and headed off to the reading nook by a large window. It had started to snow once more and Severus imagined that the picturesque view of the grounds drew his daughter there just as much as the comfortable cushions.
"I did not have a chance to thank you earlier for the book on Aboriginal potions," he said to Minerva. "I imagine I'll make good use of it."
Minerva nodded. "I saw that in the second hand shop in Hogsmeade. It looked as if it had hardly been used and, though I'm no potions expert, I imagined you could battle through some of the concoctions rather easily."
"Some look to be immensely difficult."
"Well, I know how much you enjoy a challenge," Minerva stated.
Severus inclined his head in the affirmative. He did, indeed, enjoy a challenging potion from time to time.
"Oh! I nearly forgot! A house elf brought something for you while you and Zoe were outdoors. My guess is the owl that carried it preferred to end its journey in the Owlery rather than actually deliver its parcel to the intended recipient."
Minerva leaned around the side of the sofa and pulled out a thin, square package that had been placed on the floor there. It was wrapped in brown paper and twine. He had no idea what it could be.
When Minerva handed it to him, he looked it over once, then pulled out his wand and magicked the wrappings away with a single tap. When he saw what remained in his hands, his jaw nearly dropped in astonishment.
It was merely a plain, black picture frame but the photograph within was of he and Zoe at the Christmas ball the night before. It couldn't have been taken too long after Severus had cut in to dance with her. He was pleased to see that the photographer had opted for color film rather than black-and-white, for the stark redness of Zoe's dress made her absolutely shine next his crisp, black, formal robes and the robes of the blurred guests around them. Her face was positively lit up with happiness and excitement while Severus himself wore a content smirk.
As he watched the moving image of father and daughter stepping and twirling and then resetting to step and twirl again, he tried to imagine when the photograph had been taken. He couldn't recall seeing anyone with a camera walking about at the ball.
"What is it, Severus?"
Severus looked up to Minerva, who was watching him with curiosity. He turned the frame around to show her. She instantly—and predictably—started to gush.
"Isn't that darling," she exclaimed. "Such a precious memory."
Severus merely arched an eyebrow. Though he didn't disagree entirely, he could hardly comment on such a thing without seeming overtly sentimental.
As Minerva leaned forward to take the photograph from him for a closer look, he noticed the small note Spello-taped to the back. He detached it and handed the frame over.
Severus,
This year, Draco and I decided to hire a photographer for the festivities and he managed to capture this last night. I thought it would make a wonderful gift for the two of you to cherish. You and Zoe have a wonderful Christmas.
Astoria
"It's a gift from Astoria Malfoy," he stated, looking up to Minerva and setting the note on the coffee table before him.
"That was kind of her," Minerva responded, a proud smile on her face. "You two dance very well together."
"I should hope so," Severus said dryly, taking a sip of his wine and sitting back into his chair. "I spent nearly three hours before the ball teaching her a proper waltz and trying to explain the traditional country dances."
Minerva looked up to him. "I'm sure she enjoyed that."
Severus merely nodded.
"What did Potter wish to discuss with you?" Minerva asked lowly, looking toward Zoe to make sure she wasn't listening in.
Severus turned his head to look at Zoe briefly as well then settled his gaze on the Headmistress.
"He wanted my thoughts on the alleged nefarious organization of released former Death Eaters. He said Shacklebolt is interested to hear from me."
Minerva nodded. "And what were your thoughts?"
"I hardly had the time to give them before Zoe came insisting to leave the ball," Severus remarked.
Minerva wrinkled her brow, her eyes drifting to her goddaughter at the window seat once more. "Why did she insist to leave?"
Severus shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure. She seemed to be having a perfectly suitable time, then she went off somewhere, and came back upset. She said something about being disturbed by children commenting on my choice of dress, but nothing more than that was discussed."
"She was most likely more upset that she couldn't defend you than she was about what some child said. This secrecy is rough on her, Severus. Surely you see that?"
"Hmm," Severus hummed. Of course he could see it, but there was hardly much he could do about it at present. At least, that's what he was going to continue to tell himself.
"In regards to the Death—" Minerva began.
"Papa? Do I have a dowry?"
Severus had just taken another sip from his glass when Zoe had practically shouted her question from across the room, cutting her godmother's sentence clean off. He nearly spit out his wine in surprise before giving an annoyed look to Minerva who wasn't even trying to contain the fact that she'd suddenly broken out into mirthful giggles.
"No," Severus told his daughter simply, glaring at Minerva.
"Why not?" Zoe asked, genuinely inquisitive.
Severus looked over to his daughter then and saw a perplexed look on her face. He couldn't help but snort without any amusement.
"Because dowries are nothing more than an archaic attempt by the aristocracy to ensure the marriage of their daughters to wealthy or influential suitors. Since I am decidedly not wealthy, nor aiming to improve our position within any form of aristocracy, there has hardly been galleons set aside for such a thing."
"Oh," she said. She seemed a bit embarrassed, as if she should have realized all that.
"In addition," Severus continued. "I have little to no aspirations of marrying you off—ever."
Zoe merely rolled her eyes at him then, though he saw a slight smirk on her face. She went back to the book she had been reading and Severus turned to Minerva with a scowl upon his face. The Headmistress was grinning madly.
"You did this," Severus accused, pointing a finger at her. "Was it really necessary to give her all of Austen's works this Christmas?"
Minerva waved a hand, unconcerned. "I've been waiting years for her to be old enough to enjoy them. Besides, she's at the age where a strong, opinionated female character like Elizabeth Bennet is at least somewhat identifiable, yet has experiences that are excitingly different to her own life. Girls should know that they needn't be timid little mice in order to be respected in their society; they should know that their opinions, thoughts, and wit are valid and encouraged, despite a status quo that sometimes aims to silence, discredit, or condemn them. I think Elizabeth Bennet—all Austen's novels—will help Zoe to learn this."
"Yes, and I'm sure she'll learn to hold men to the highly realistic standard that is Mr. Darcy, as well," he stated dryly.
Minerva scoffed. "Don't be silly. The men of Jane Austen's world are merely the dream, not something any girl actually expects. No… everything she learns of men—how to identify the good ones from the scoundrels, how to find a man that loves and appreciates her, how a woman is to be respected by a man and what her self-worth is alongside him—will be taught by her father."
Severus was startled much more so than he would have liked to admit. He would be the one that Zoe looked to for guidance in choosing a respectable man? It was not the female role model in her life, but he who would teach his daughter about her self-worth in a relationship? He couldn't help but feel that if that truly were the case, they were all in trouble.
His expression must have conveyed his sudden internal turmoil for Minerva leveled him with a very stern look.
"Don't look so shocked, Severus. She watches you. Without ever meaning to, really, you will leave with her an impression of how a man should treat a woman. It's likely that the man that she marries will, in fact, be very similar to you in principles and values."
Severus really couldn't think of anything to say to all that and he couldn't say that he'd given any of it much, if any, thought before. What a burdensome notion for a father: that he held the key, or at least set the standard, to his daughter's happiness with some unnamed, faceless man, years into the future.
Severus shuddered. He supposed he'd be thinking about it now—thinking about the example he'd be setting, about every single interaction he had with the opposite sex—in an effort to try to assure that his daughter's future relationships were healthy ones. He'd probably worry incessantly about it the older Zoe grew, most likely. Merlin, help them.
Of course, Zoe chose that moment to join them in the seating area. She held Pride and Prejudice clutched to her chest as she leaned into her father's shoulder and yawned.
"What are you talking about?" she asked curiously mid-yawn, looking toward her godmother.
"Nothing pertinent," Severus said a bit distracted. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zoe nod her head.
"May I try it?"
Severus glanced up to his daughter. She looked into his eyes and then averted them to gaze at his half-drunk glass of wine. He pursed his lips, at first feeling like such a question from an eleven-year-old was rather presumptuous before he remembered that he'd been over a year younger than Zoe when his grandmother had given him his first taste of wine.
He looked to Minerva for her reaction to Zoe's question. He would prefer not to be judged by the Headmistress for allowing the girl to imbibe alcohol at her young age, much less on school property.
When Minerva seemed to show indifference to the request as well as his decision regarding it, he held the glass up for Zoe to take.
"Only a sip," he instructed.
Zoe quickly set her book down onto the arm of his chair so that she could eagerly grasp the crystal wine glass with two hands. She paused, then put the rim to her lips, and tilted the red fluid into her mouth, taking a bit more than what Severus would consider a sip to taste. He reached up to pull the glass away.
"That's enough," he said, taking it from her.
"It tastes… fruity, but then bitter," the girl observed, smacking her lips together rather uncouthly.
"Considering wine at its most basic is merely fermented grapes, I'd say that description is rather apt," Minerva replied.
Zoe merely shrugged at Minerva's statement before opening her mouth and giving another large yawn. He took a large gulp of his wine and then set it on the coffee table. He stood.
"It's time to go home," he said.
"Can't we stay just a little longer?" Zoe asked, leaning fully against him. She yawned again.
Severus put a hand on the top of her head and tilted it back so that she would focus her attention on him. "It's time to go," he said again with a bit more sternness in his voice. "It's been a long and eventful day and you are tired. Say goodnight to your godmother and collect your things."
Zoe wrinkled her nose in distaste, for she knew that she would lose any argument. She pulled away from him to cross to Minerva who had stood at the declaration of their departure. The two embraced affectionately while Severus looked on.
"Merry Christmas, Min," Zoe said.
"Merry Christmas," Minerva replied. She gave Zoe an extra squeeze. "And for Merlin's sake, stay out of trouble. I'd like for you to be able to spend time with me this summer."
Zoe let out an amused breath of air. "I will."
After gathering her cloak and all the books she had received from Minerva, Zoe stepped into the fire and whirled away to Spinner's End.
Severus gathered his own cloak and took up Zoe's broomstick as he headed toward the Floo.
"You're aware that she'll have to continue to use one of the school brooms for her flying lessons, aren't you?" Minerva asked.
Severus turned and gave a single, curt nod. "She's only to use it under my sole supervision while still in her first year. Which I suppose means that I shall have to work on my Aversion Charm for the Quidditch pitch to keep curious students at bay while she's flying."
Minerva nodded. "You made her whole Christmas with that gift, you know," she said. "And the earrings, of course. Finley said they were all she talked about during dinner."
"Tell him I apologize if he was bothered by her loquaciousness," Severus responded.
Minerva scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. She's a wonderful girl and he was delighted to listen to her. I merely wished to convey to you that you… well, as the Americans would say, you 'hit it out of the ballpark'. Zoe is likely to remember this Christmas all her life."
Severus looked into the Headmistress's eyes and, upon seeing her sincerity, he inclined his head in thanks for her praise before stepping into the fireplace, throwing down the Floo powder, and speaking his destination.
Immediately upon exiting the Floo at home and dusting herself off, Zoe made her way upstairs to her bedroom to change into her pajamas and put her new books away in the bookcase at the foot of her bed. As she carefully moved her other books around to make room for the new and meticulously alphabetized them all by author, she reflected on the last couple of days.
Christmas Day had been wonderful, but for some reason, her thoughts had settled on the events of Christmas Eve. She had been thoroughly surprised to discover that her father knew how to dance. It just seemed out-of-character or, at the very least, not something he would consider worth knowing. Though she'd been going to the Christmas balls for as long as she could remember, she'd never seen her father dance there before. Granted, she'd never really spent any time in the ballroom to have seen her father dance. Inwardly, she wondered if he ever had or if this year had been the year he'd broken the mold.
And he'd done it for her in addition to teaching her to dance, encouraging her choices in choosing whom she danced with (mostly), and allowing her to fully participate, despite her restriction. She smiled at the pleasant memories of that night.
Of course, as these thoughts and memories entered her mind, she couldn't help but focus in on her conversation with Albus and James Potter as well. She wondered what Albus had meant when he called her father The Severus Snape. She supposed it was a pretty uncommon name, so there wasn't a likely chance that they had him confused with someone else…but he had acted as if her father was notorious or famous in some way, as if he knew a lot about him.
Of course, she'd been hearing strange things all during her first term at school. Everyone was so focused on those Death Eater people that there always seemed to be talk of the war that happened back before Zoe was born. She could only assume that the war had something to do with the Death Eaters.
Her father's name—as well as the name of Mr. Potter and several of her professors—always seemed to make their way into the conversations, as well. Nothing had been solidified in her mind, however, for older or more influential students tended to pass off every mention of names as rumors, speculation, or historical inaccuracies—as if the Slytherins who talked didn't really know all the facts. It was almost as if there wasn't anyone who really knew what had taken place so many years before—though everyone seemed to have an opinion. Despite all that, Zoe got the impression that it all somehow fit together, though. She just didn't know how.
Perhaps, she should just ask her father what they were all on about? But something in the back of her mind cautioned against it. Aside from a few stories about his grandmother, Ophelia, and some general family history—names and such—her father didn't like to talk about much of anything that happened before she was born—not even about her own mother.
Zoe stopped sorting her books as she felt a sudden pang of bitterness rise up in her at that thought. She wished her father wanted to talk to her more about her mother…
She shook her head, dispelling those thoughts. It did not do to dwell on the aspects of a person's personality that she could not change. You had to embrace them despite their faults or quirks. That's how you showed that you loved them, respected them. That's what Minerva had told her once.
As Zoe went back to her books, she felt a single tear roll out of her right eye. She quickly wiped it away and took a deep breath. Why was she feeling so emotional all of a sudden?
Composing herself, she startled when the door to her attic bedroom opened.
"Zoe?"
Setting her last book in its place, Zoe stood from the floor.
"You can come up, Papa," she called to him, moving toward the head of her bed where she set Pride and Prejudice on the side table next to her wand.
As her father stepped fully into the room, Zoe crawled into bed, pulling the duvet all the way up to her chin. She gazed up at her father as he came to stand next to her bed, looking down on her.
"Remember, you need to write to Mrs. Malfoy tomorrow," he said, fiddling with the sleeve of his robes.
"I won't forget. It's not like I'll have much else to do on Boxing Day."
Her father arched a single eyebrow.
"I have plans for you in the conservatory."
Zoe gave a long groan and turned her face into her pillow. Not extra chores…
She supposed she should have expected this. Her father hadn't been wrong in what he'd said to her earlier; she really hadn't been affected by her restriction too much since it had been handed to her. Plus, after a whole term away, the plants in the conservatory were most likely in desperate need of attention. Even if she hadn't gotten into trouble two days into the holidays, she probably would have been asked to help her father sort them out anyway. She just didn't like feeling as if she was doing it for punishment because she actually enjoyed pruning and such when she was simply asked to help her father or Mr. Leach—when the Herbologist came for harvesting and preservation, that is.
She kept her face buried in her pillows, coming to terms with the end of her relaxing holiday, until her father cleared his throat. She turned her head to look up at him again.
"Did you enjoy the day?" he asked.
Zoe nodded. "Yes, thank you. It was a good day. Did you?"
She smiled at him as he inclined his head in the affirmative before reaching down and placing an affectionate hand on her head briefly.
"Go to sleep," he said softly, turning to make his exit.
Zoe bit her lip, quickly having an internal debate with herself. Making a decision, she called out to her father before he could descend the stairs.
"Papa? Do you think Mum would have liked seeing me ride my broom today?"
Her father turned to stare at her. His expression looked a bit troubled.
"I—" he began. He closed his mouth and paused. "I believe so, yes."
Zoe couldn't help the grin that erupted on her face as a mental image of her mother watching her zoom about the Quidditch pitch formed in her mind. She was so content with the fantasy that she barely registered that her father had practically fled down the stairs as she burrowed further under her duvet, hoping for pleasant dreams.
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