Author's Note:
The Houses Competition (or THC) Round 2: Who Am I?
Story Type: Drabble (up to 1,000 words)
House: Hufflepuff
Class: Astronomy
Prompt: 1. [Action] Discovering a secret
Word Count: 979
Disclaimers/triggers: None
Beta Love: Thanks to Nyxetta and DarylDixon'sgirl1985 for looking over my story!
Further notes: Sometimes curiosity leads to fluffy things indeed.
The Secret Stash
Severus slunk against the shadowy wall as he made his way towards the entrance to the Headmaster's office. He was glad that the number of portraits on this floor were minimal, as he did not wish to be observed. An hour earlier, the Headmaster had excused himself from their nightly game of chess and toddled off to his quarters. Severus, as usual, had taken the midnight patrol. He had planned a bit of a deviation from his normal rounds tonight, but kept to his usual route so as not to tip off any ghosts or paintings that might still be watching. Luckily, by the time he reached the entrance to the Headmaster's tower, all was still. With a whispered word, the gargoyle that guarded the staircase leapt aside and Severus made his way upstairs.
Severus cast a disillusionment charm upon himself as he climbed. While the portraits would likely be sleeping at this hour, there was no telling what would happen if he were to wake them. The only light in the chamber beyond was the soft glow of Fawkes, who snored softly with his head tucked under his wing.
'Curious,' Severus thought to himself, stifling a snicker.
He pressed on, keeping to the furthest walls and inching towards a dark iron door set against the side of the room. The door hadn't been there only a week prior, and Severus had been curious ever since he'd glimpsed it during one of his weekly briefings. To make things worse, Albus had refused to elaborate on its purpose, and this had increased Severus' desire to know what was behind it to an intolerable level.
Maybe it was a character flaw, but he couldn't stop himself once curiosity had taken hold of him. It had gotten him into more trouble than he'd care to remember, and yet, it had also been the reason he'd improved potions or created new spells that had saved lives. He still regretted the werewolf incident, though. The scar on his ankle that ached every time the moon was full was proof of that.
'I'm just taking a look,' he reassured himself. 'He won't even know I was here."
Once he reached the door, Severus quickly cast a few silent spells to check to see if there were any wards that would sound the alarm. Surprisingly, there were none. Next, he bent down and pressed the tip of his wand under the door, whispering a spell to search for hostile entities or curses.
The tip of his wand glowed a soft green. The coast was, as far as he could tell, completely clear.
"Alohomora," he whispered, pressing the tip of his wand into the keyhole.
The lock clicked and the door swung open silently on well-oiled hinges. Severus let out a sigh of relief for his good fortune and stepped inside.
The room beyond was small and plain. The air smelt of House Elf magic. It was more of a walk-in closet than a proper room, but Severus only had eyes for the small work table up against the right side of the room. On the table was a large, purple box with a padlock on it. Looping, golden words had been painted on the top: PROPERTY OF ALBUS DUMBLEDORE.
Severus knew he should leave things be. He knew it was wrong to pry, and yet he found himself pointing his wand and popping open the padlock without hesitation. Carefully, he placed the open padlock on the table without making a sound and then grabbed the hinge and lifted it slowly.
His eyes widened and then widened some more as he beheld the contents of the box. Before he could stop himself, he reached his right hand inside and sighed with pleasure.
The collection of expertly rolled and categorized socks within were the softest and most decadent that Severus had ever laid eyes on. Simply running his fingers across the fine fibers of these fuzzy works of art was pleasurable enough to make him stroke them as though they were a large, plush cat. There was a cornucopia of colors, styles, and lengths. It was glorious.
Severus spent a few more minutes silently enjoying his triumph before placing everything back the way it had been and quietly exiting the Headmaster's tower. He stole away back down to the Dungeons and entered his own chambers, feeling the tug of sleep upon his mind at last. He readied himself for bed, brushing his teeth and washing his face, then pulling his hair back into a loose braid behind his head. With that, he slipped on his nightgown and headed to his bed.
It was only then that he saw the note. On a piece of parchment in a familiar fancy scrawl, he read the following message:
Dear Severus,
I hadn't realized that you too were a sock aficionado. How utterly delightful! Please take these with my blessing.
-Albus
Severus blushed three shades of embarrassed purple, whipping his head around the small room as though expecting Albus to be standing there chuckling in that droll way of his. He was, however, completely alone. Underneath the note, he found a rolled-up pair of the plushest black socks he'd ever seen. It was like wearing a cat's paw over his feet, and he purred with delight as he slid them up his calves. They did an excellent job in keeping the chill of the dungeons away from his extremities.
Still grumbling under his breath but realizing that there wasn't much he could do about the high probability of Albus teasing him for the rest of his life, Severus finally climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin.
"The socks truly are delightful, though, secrets be damned," he said to himself, and he allowed himself to smile as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.