Summary: "What do you see when you look in the mirror, sir?" "I? I see myself holding a pair of woolen socks. Thick woolen socks." There had only been one person who ever bothered to get him socks, of all things. Oneshot.
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When One Cannot Have Books
Rasielle
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It was his turn, and he was opening his last Christmas present, the one in the smallest box. Unwrapping it carefully, he saw another pair of woolen socks, nimbly made and in his favorite colors. His face fell. She never bothered to get him anything else.
"Socks again? They're nice, but – "
She let out a laugh, almost sadly, as she reached out to finger the soft wool. Embarrassed, but trying to conceal it. "I knew you would say that."
"Say what?"
"Well, not say it, really – but imply it, yes…"
"What did I imply?"
"That you didn't like it."
A heartbeat of silence. "I like it, but…"
"I know, I know. It's just the only thing I can knit."
Any other boy would have said she could've bought something instead. But he smiled slowly, and while she was watching he put them on.
"They're very warm. I think I do like them."
She didn't say anything.
"But, you know, a book or two wouldn't come amiss. Maybe – "
And she laughed again, sounding happier. "Albus," she said affectionately. "I will never get you a book. You have enough of them."
They smiled at each other and fell quiet by the Gryffindor fireplace, which gave off a crackling sound just as merry as Christmas carols. She was fiddling with the gold bracelet he had given her just minutes ago, already seemingly attached to it. There was no need for more conversation.
In the companionable silence, he examined one of the socks, wriggling his toes. It was loose but very thick, just the way he liked them. Changing his mind about them, he wondered if she would make him pairs like these for every Christmas of his life. He looked forward to it. Besides, she was right; he did have too many books, anyway.
Fin.
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Afterthoughts: The two stars after 'anyway', by the way, symbolize the end of the fic. Who she is, you don't know and I don't know; and she is not Minerva McGonagall. McGonagall is much younger than him, presumably. Maybe this mystery girl isn't around anymore; otherwise, Dumbledore wouldn't be seeing socks in the Mirror. :smiles: Well-written, or worthless trash? You decide.