I do not own Harry Potter. Charlotte Potter is my OC.

Christmas at Spinner's End

When Ron came out of the fireplace, he found himself in a small living room. He moved slowly around the space, taking in everything with an open mouth. He had never pictured the home in which Snape lived, but this wasn't what he was expecting. It was too normal.

"You'll catch flies if you keep your mouth open like that," Hermione chided.

Ron snapped his mouth shut. "It's…dark."

"It is," admitted Hermione. Snape's choice in furniture and paint was rather dull and lacked significant colour. The only spot of brightness were the curtains, which were red.

Charlie came rolling onto the black mat by the brick fireplace. "I hate Floo travel," she complained as she got to her feet.

"At least you didn't end up in Knockturn Alley," snickered Ron.

"Let's not mention that to Professor Snape," said Charlie with a wince. "I don't think he'd be too pleased I kept that from him."

Snape emerged out of the emerald flames and Charlie found herself straightening under his scrutiny. "Before I show you to your rooms, I am going to make a few things very clear. You will not go into my personal quarters, you will not go into my private lab and you will not leave this property. If any of these rules are broken the consequences will be dire. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" they chorused.

Snape directed them upstairs and down the dimly-lit hallway. Ron received the first guest room and he ventured inside, dragging his trunk behind him. He used his foot to shut the door behind him and dropped onto the bed. The walls were bare and the only other pieces of furniture inhabiting the space were a wardrobe and a bedside table.

Snape clearly had a favoured colour scheme—red, grey and black. His sheets and pillows were grey and the bed hangings were a deep red. Ron frowned in distaste. "What does he have against orange?" he muttered.

Footsteps hurried towards his door and Ron panicked. He had absolutely no idea what other rules applied to living with Snape and he hastily kicked his shoes off. His mother didn't care if they had shoes on their beds, but if they made a mess on their sheets, they had to clean them up.

I need more information!

Charlie pushed the door open and peered inside. "Are you still alive?" she teased as she and Hermione entered the room.

"Barely," muttered Ron.

"You need to relax. Just follow his rules and you'll be fine."

"But what about shoes on the bed, or elbows on the table?" Ron persisted. "He didn't elaborate enough."

"Oh, big word." Hermione grinned when Ron glared at her.

Charlie laughed. "Professor Snape told us we could go outside until dinner time. Do you want to come with us?"

Ron pursed his lips. "Sure, but what's for dinner? Bat wings and blood?"

"Very funny," said Charlie with a roll of her eyes.

They went down the stairs and it took a minute before they found Snape. He was in a tiny sitting room, the walls lined with bookshelves. Hermione eyed the books with interest as Charlie ventured, "Professor? We're going outside."

Snape's gaze lifted to meet hers. "Very well. If you see anything suspicious, I expect you to come inside immediately."

"Yes, Professor."

They pulled on their winter accessories and filed outside. Ron glanced up and down the street, studying the row of run-down brick houses. "Not exactly a nice neighbourhood, is it?"

"Ron, don't be rude!" snapped Hermione.

"I'm just saying I wouldn't want to walk these streets at night."

"That's because a murderer is on the loose," said Charlie with a snort.

"Not here," said Ron. "He doesn't know we left the castle. I don't even know where we are."

"We're at Spinner's End," said Hermione with a straight face.

"Very clever," sneered Ron.

"Are we going to play or what?" asked Charlie.

Ron grabbed a handful of snow and flung it at the girl, who spluttered in surprise. "Yup!" he said with a laugh.

The three played well until dusk. They built snowmen, had a snowball fight and built a snow fort. When Snape came to collect them, they were dripping and shivering. "You all look like something the cat dragged in." He flicked his wand and they felt like they were being bathed in warmth. "Put your wet clothes by the fire. It's time for dinner."

Ron was last in hanging up his coat and mittens before going to the dining room. There was a platter of spaghetti in the middle of the table along with a pitcher of pumpkin juice.

"You look like something is going to jump out and bite you at any moment," Hermione whispered to him as she grabbed a piece of garlic bread.

Ron ignored her and started to spoon some spaghetti onto his plate. When he deemed his portion large enough, he promptly tucked in.

"We can't take him anywhere," Charlie muttered.

"Chew, Ronald!" Hermione hissed. "I don't know the Heimlich manoeuvre yet."

Snape watched with an unreadable expression as Ron polished off his plate and went for seconds. Weasleys.

Charlie rolled her eyes. "I'm glad I'm not in Gryffindor, or else I would never get to eat."

...

It was midnight when Charlie finally decided that she wasn't going to get any sleep. Irritated, she climbed out of bed and shuffled down the hardwood floors. Years of sneaking around the Dursley household allowed her to be quiet and stealthy. She went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of milk. She sat at the table, her chin resting against her knuckles.

Perhaps Dumbledore had been right to send her away for the holidays. At least now she wouldn't be tempted to roam the castle in her restlessness.

"Miss Potter, may I ask why you are not in bed where you belong?"

Charlie snapped her head around to see Snape standing in the doorway. "Couldn't sleep. I keep thinking a vampire will jump out of the closet," she said with a straight face.

"Keep up that cheek and I'll take fifty points away from Ravenclaw when we get back to the castle," he threatened.

"Sorry, sir."

Snape went over to his kettle and tapped it with his wand. As it started to heat up, he turned to study the girl. "What's plaguing your mind?"

Charlie took a drink of milk, staring absent-mindedly at the wall. "Everything, I suppose."

"Black will not be able to reach you here."

"I'm not really worried about him," said Charlie honestly. She'd had months to come to terms with the fact he wanted her dead. It was the newest piece of information she learned about him that disturbed her. But she couldn't tell Snape that.

"That's why Dumbledore was insistent you be under strict supervision," said Snape with a frown.

"It's hard to be frightened of him when I have the Dementors to contend with."

"They are far away from you. I was also under the impression Lupin was going to be teaching you how to defend yourself against them."

There was bitterness in his voice as he mentioned Remus but Charlie ignored it. "Yeah, he is. Hopefully it'll help."

There was a haunted expression on her face that made her look far older than her thirteen years. "I am sorry," said Snape softly. "It is an awful thing, to have to relive the murder of your mother."

His voice was neutral and his face was blank. Yet Charlie tilted her head to the side, her green eyes thoughtful, and she asked, "Did you know my mother?"

"Is there a reason why you think I should know her?" returned Snape calmly.

"Well, you know my aunt, for one. And I think you would have been the same age as her when she went to Hogwarts. If Mum were still alive, she would have been in her thirties. Like you."

The kettle whistled and Snape gave it a tap to turn it off. "Very perceptive of you. Do you know much about your mother's school days?"

"No. Aunt Petunia refuses to talk about Mum, let alone the fact she was a witch. But I managed to get some details from her over the years," said Charlie. "Mum's birthday was one of them. I know so little about her that what I do know just sticks with me."

The fury, as it often did when Snape thought of the Dursleys, surged. "Yes. You are correct. I knew your mother. We were acquaintances when we were younger."

"Even though she was Gryffindor and you were Slytherin?" asked Charlie in interest.

Perceptive indeed. Much like her mother.

"Yes."

Charlie wondered why Snape had been able to get along with a Muggle-born Gryffindor, but not her pure-blood father. She knew better than to press the matter and she said hopefully, "Do you think you could tell me what she was like? When she was in school?"

"I think any number of professors would be able to answer that question for you, Miss Potter."

"I don't want to hear stories from a teacher's point of view. I want to hear stories about her from a friend." When Snape opened his mouth, she knew what he was going to say and quickly corrected herself. "Acquaintance."

Snape was about to decline her request, but bright green eyes stared imploringly at him. It was pathetic, really, how she had to resort to him for childhood stories about her mother. That was something Lily's own sister should have provided. But that, of course, was far too much to ask.

"She was kind," he said at last, taking his tea and sitting across from her. "She was loyal and friendly. She defended all who needed it. I felt sorry for those who crossed her. She was known for her temper and was quite skilled in casting hexes."

"Doesn't really sound like me at all," Charlie said.

She tried to smile but there was disappointment in her eyes, eyes that were identical to Lily's. Snape shook his head. "You didn't inherit her temper, but you have her kindness, her cleverness and her heart."

Charlie brightened. To know that she truly did exhibit some of her mother's traits was important to her. "Thank you. Did she ever hex you?"

"I'm not going to answer that." Snape stood up, his cup of tea in hand. "When you're finished, I expect you to return to bed."

He left the kitchen and Charlie grinned after him. Yeah, she totally hexed him.

...

The week passed by with surprising quickness. On Christmas Eve the kids went downstairs to find that Snape had magicked a spruce tree in the corner of his living room. There was a box with strands of blinking white lights and golden baubles and Snape was conveniently nowhere in sight. They cheerfully decorated the spruce and when they finished it practically transformed the room with festivity. On Christmas morning Charlie instinctively peeked over the end of the bed. There were two piles of packages and she beamed, grabbing her pillow and flinging it at Hermione.

It collided with her head and she gave a sleepy grumble of surprise. "What?" she asked with yawn.

"Happy Christmas!" said Charlie happily.

"Happy Christmas!"

"Come on, let's get Ron."

The two girls crossed the hall. Before Charlie could knock on Ron's door it was thrown open, startling them back a few steps. "Happy Christmas!" said Ron eagerly. "Let's open our presents."

"Let's do it by the tree," suggested Hermione.

Charlie, who had never in her life properly opened Christmas presents by the Christmas tree, was delighted by the idea. "I'd love that!"

"I'll meet you downstairs," said Ron, and in the next second slammed the door in their faces.

"No manners," said Hermione with a huff.

They returned to their room to comb out their hair and change out of their pajamas. Charlie knelt down and went to grab her presents. As she straightened, her vision slightly obscured, her foot knocked against something thin and solid. She tried to reach for it, but had to quickly readjust herself to avoid an avalanche of packages.

I'll come back for it later.

"Ready!" said Hermione, her chin pressed against the top of her own pile to keep it secure in her arms.

They trooped downstairs and set their packages near the base of the glittering tree. Ron joined them several seconds later and dumped his presents to the floor. "Ready?"

"What are you doing?"

The three whirled around to see Snape staring at them from the doorway. "We're opening presents," said Charlie brightly.

Ron seemed like he was going to vibrate right out of his body. "Fine," said Snape with a nod. "I expect you to clean up your mess."

The children wasted no time in tackling their presents. The first gift Ron unwrapped was his annual Weasley jumper. He shrugged it on with a resigned expression, the tips of his ears turning red as he caught sight of Snape's smirk. His brother Charlie sent him a glass dragon figurine and Bill gave him a gold coin from Egypt. Ginny's gift to him was a Quidditch book and Percy had sent the three of them gold-coloured quills that shimmered. The twins sent them all jokes kits, which Snape immediately ordered to be placed in his possession until their return to the castle. Ron immediately tore open the bag of sweets Harry sent them, shoving them into his mouth.

"Thanks Hermione!" said Ron thickly, admiring his new bookbag.

"You're welcome! Thanks for the organizer!"

"'Course. Let me know when you fill it up. I might need to look at it once in a while."

Charlie's eyes sparkled as she held up a new set of blue and bronze Quidditch robes. "Wow, Ron! Thanks!"

"Well, it was my idea, but Mum made them. Thanks for the Gobstones. My old set was getting kind of gunky."

"These rainbow quills are lovely, Charlie!" Hermione exclaimed, watching the colours glitter in the light.

"I thought you'd like them. Thanks for the Quidditch magazines."

Charlie also received a jumper from Mrs. Weasley and she cheerfully put it on. There was one package left and Charlie snagged it, bringing it over to the observing Snape. He stared at it for a moment before slowly taking it into his hands.

"It's from all of us," said Charlie, gesturing between herself and her friends. "It's a thank-you. For being hospitable to us."

"I do not possess an owl," said Snape in a slow, measured voice. "How, exactly, did you manage to procure this without leaving this house?"

"We ordered it while we were still at Hogwarts," said Hermione quickly. "We thought it was only right to get you a Christmas present since you're sharing your home and making sure we're protected. We did only have an hour to think of something and send the order off by owl, so I hope it's okay."

Hiding his surprise and bewilderment, Snape carefully pulled off the brown paper to reveal a gleaming set of brand-new scales and beakers. "It is satisfactory," he said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," said Charlie.

The three collected the discarded wrapping to throw in the trash. They grabbed their presents and went upstairs, chattering animatedly as they went. Snape watched after them, particularly the way Charlie's green eyes shone, and he could not help but give a soft smile.

"I don't know why he thought we snuck out," said Ron as they stepped into the upstairs hall. "Not like we'd know where to go."

"That hasn't exactly stopped us before," said Charlie feelingly.

Ron couldn't argue that, so he settled for a shrug. "Do you want to play Gobstones?"

Hermione nodded and Charlie said, "I'll be with you in a second. I have to give Dobby his present. I can take your things, Hermione."

Charlie lugged the items to their shared room and let them tumble onto the bed. Her eyes fell upon a lone package sitting on the floor, the one she hadn't been able to carry. It was long and thin and Charlie furrowed her brow. "Huh. Wonder who that's from."

Wanting to give Dobby his present first, she pulled it out of her trunk and called for him. Dobby appeared, bells adorning his pillowcase, and he said, "Happy Christmas, Miss!"

"Happy Christmas, Dobby!" She extended the package. "This is for you."

Dobby took it, tears filling his large eyes. "Thank you, Miss!" He eagerly tore off the wrapping and gasped in delight at the colourful socks. "Miss is so kind! Dobby loves them!"

"I'm glad," said Charlie, kneeling down to give him a hug. "How's Hogwarts? It must weird with it being so empty."

"It's been very quiet, but there is plenty to clean. The house-elves are having a party and it is very merry."

Charlie grinned. "Sounds like fun."

They chatted for a bit before Dobby returned Hogwarts. Charlie set her attention on the mysterious present and took off the wrapping. She froze at the gleaming broomstick she unearthed, hardly daring to believe what she was seeing.

No way.

She dropped the brand-new broom to the floor and hurried across the hall. "I got a Firebolt!" she whispered excitedly.

"You're joking!" said Ron with a scoff.

"I'm serious! Come look!"

They went back into her room and Ron gaped at the Firebolt. "No! Who sent it to you?"

"I don't know. There's no note with it." Charlie picked it up, weighing it in her hands and admiring how it felt.

Hermione bit her lip. "We should give it to Professor Snape."

"What's he going to do with a Firebolt?" asked Ron with a snort.

"No—you don't understand. It could be from Sirius Black."

Ron stared at her in disbelief. "You're mad."

"I'm not!"

"Hermione, a Firebolt cost hundreds of Galleons, at least," said Charlie carefully. "There is no way Black was able to afford this."

"Don't you know the Blacks are on the list of sacred pure-blood families?" retorted Hermione. "They're rich."

"I sincerely doubt he has access to that fortune. The goblins at Gringotts aren't very well going to let him in."

"If he didn't buy it with his own money, it's possible he stole it," said Hermione crossly. "He certainly wouldn't have any qualms about doing so."

"Hermione, it's not from Black," said Ron with a roll of his eyes. When Hermione gave a frustrated huff and stormed out, Ron said in bewilderment, "Sirius Black. Honestly. He's not the type of bloke to plot out his murders. He just goes and does them."

"That is a very unpleasant thought," said Charlie flatly.

They fell silent when Hermione returned with Snape close behind. He took one look at the broomstick Charlie held and said sharply, "Put it down, now."

Charlie flinched and obeyed. Ron sent Hermione a furious glare. Snape examined the Firebolt with narrowed eyes. "Miss Granger tells me you do not know who sent it."

"I don't," Charlie admitted reluctantly.

"Where did you find it?"

"Here, by the end of my bed. It was with my other presents, but I didn't have room to carry it with me downstairs."

"I will be taking this."

Ron gasped in horror. "But sir—!"

"Do not argue, Mr. Weasley." Snape seized the Firebolt and Charlie's heart fell in dismay. "It might be harbouring a few hexes. I'll send it to Professor Flitwick. He'll be able to tell if this broom has been tampered with. Madam Hooch will help him, I'm sure."

"Yes, sir," Charlie muttered.

Snape raised a brow at her despondent tone. "The best-case scenario, Miss Potter, is that there is nothing wrong with this broomstick and you will have it back. The worst-case scenario is that this broom is cursed and by disposing of it we save you from a horrendous death. I fail to see how either of those scenarios disappoint you."

Charlie flushed with embarrassment. "Right. Sorry."

Snape took the Firebolt away and the moment he was out of earshot Ron rounded on Hermione. "You little snitch! What's wrong with you?"

Hermione looked offended. "I told you, it might have been from Sirius Black!"

"How would he get a broom when the whole wizarding world is searching for him?" he cried.

"I don't know, but it's very possible that he did send it to Charlie!" Hermione said stubbornly.

Charlie sighed wearily. "I guess you have a point. But you get to tell Scarlet that I had a Firebolt, and then I lost it."

She was unable to stop the heavy disappointment from coursing through her. It could take ages before she got it back, if she got it back at all.

I wonder what it says about me that I'm willing to take a risk by riding a Firebolt that may have been sent to me by a mass murderer.