~ by Severitus
It was a cat. A small, scrawny black cat with enormous blue eyes, two white feet, and a gigantic red bow tied messily around its neck. And now it was sniffing him, its tiny wet nose mere centimeters away from his own, and all the while carrying on with its incessant purring.
“What the…?” Severus muttered, and leapt to his feet in an instant, eliciting an angry meow from the kitten after it was sent sprawling to the cold floor. Then it sat back on its haunches and stared up at him expectantly, tail twitching slightly.
For a moment, Severus merely stared back in confusion. Was this a prank? Or was this actually someone’s idea of a Christmas gift? A kitten. For whatever reason, someone had gotten him, the dark, terrifying, mean and nasty potions master a kitten, of all possible things. Well, whoever it was had certainly failed in their mission, for he definitely wasn’t any more in the Christmas spirit than he had been before, and he certainly wasn’t going to destroy the school over the gangly fur-ball sitting at his feet, the fur-ball that was still blatantly staring at him.
Severus crouched down and grasped the kitten firmly by the scruff of the neck, lifting the creature to eye level as he stood up. “And the question remains, what am I to do with you? Back to the pet shop, I suppose…,” he said, and the kitten audibly growled. “What? And you expected me to keep you? So sorry to disappoint you,” he growled in reply, and the kitten gave its own version of a fierce glare, its tail swishing angrily.
A furious sound rising deep in his throat, Severus was moments from tossing the kitten onto the bed and stalking away to hunt down the perpetrator when he noticed something by the kitten’s neck. A small, rolled piece of parchment was pinned under the bow, near the knot, all but hidden by the bright cloth. He sat back on the bed and dropped the kitten into his lap, and then set about freeing the parchment. The kitten instantly curled up against his stomach, beginning its purring anew. Snape ignored it, and unrolled the tiny scroll. It read:
Professor Snape,
Somebody told me that you had a black cat once. I
found this one in a pet shop and I thought you might
like him. Merry Christmas, Professor.
H. Potter
He read the parchment twice before setting it aside, then looked down at the cat once again. He picked the kitten up by the scruff of the neck and stared at it warily. It appeared to be a normal cat in every sense of the word, except the fact that like most magical animals it was significantly smarter that its muggle-owned cousins. But why on earth would Potter give him a cat? Surely there was something — some time activated spell or ulterior motive. Perhaps this was just the brat’s way of trying to pass Potions… no, that was ludicrous. As much as he hated the boy, Snape had to admit that the child was not that stupid, and if Snape hadn’t hated the boy, Potter would probably be doing pretty well in potions class. But that left yet another question. Who had told him about Desero? The cat had disappeared back when he’d been a student at Hogwarts, so there was no possible way Potter could have….
“Minerva…,” he growled; with the way she’d been acting, it left no doubt in his mind. McGonagall and Potter had evidently joined forces against him — some sort of tag-team determined to drive him mad.
The kitten meowed, and Snape dragged himself up out of his dark thoughts and stared at it. It hung limply from his grasp, and the bow was so huge on the skinny creature that it looked absolutely ridiculous. In a way, it did look an awful lot like Desero — both were scrawny, gangly, and weren’t completely black. Desero had possessed a white patch of fur on his chest and one white toe, and his eyes, unlike this kitten, had been green. Severus turned and dropped the creature on the bed, where it swayed briefly on its feet and immediately sat down beside him, still staring at him expectantly. When Severus failed to show any interest, it gave up and lay down against his leg, stretching and then yawning briefly before finally closing its eyes. Snape groaned and raked a hand through his hair; it was hard to hate the creature now that he’d compared it to Desero. He had been extremely upset when he’d disappeared, as well as extremely angry. To this very day he was convinced that Lupin had eaten the cat on one of his full moon ventures, and had conveniently forgotten to mention it. There was actually some merit to the assumption, too, for there had been a significant rise in pet disappearances during the werewolf’s stay at Hogwarts.
“But what to do about Potter?” he reminded himself, looking down at the kitten once again. If it was meant as some sort of vile, twisted joke, then he’d make sure that the brat never again saw the light of day. But if it wasn’t… well, he was positive that Dumbledore would have his head if he punished the boy over a Christmas present, an obvious act of “good will.” Sighing in defeat, Severus reached down and stroked the kitten, scratching it lightly behind the ear. It immediately began to purr once again, and watched him from between half-lidded eyes.
“Fine, you persistent beast. You’ve won. You can stay, for now at least. But if you break so much as one bottle, or scratch up one piece of furniture… out the window you go. Is that understood?” he said sternly, and the kitten raised its head, replying with a happy meow.
“Good. Then I’ll have to name you, won’t I? Let’s see…,” he said, leaning back against the bedpost. “I know… I’ll call you Caedus*, Latin for what I intend to do to Potter if you’re meant as a joke.”
The cat only purred louder in reply.
***
Harry was quite content at his place by the fire in the Great Hall, wedged comfortably between the cushions piled on a massive, high-backed armchair. A cup of cocoa sat on the table next to him, topped with a mountain of marshmallows, whipped cream, and shaved chocolate. The only thing that could have made the moment better was if Ron and Hermione had been there to share it with him. Hagrid and Dumbledore had stopped by briefly after the party ended, to wish him a happy Christmas. Now, most people had retired to their rooms for the evening, even though it wasn’t quite curfew yet. He could stay by the fire for at least another hour, and then he’d have to return to the dorm or risk Filch’s wrath. (Or Snape’s, but he dared not imagine the outcome of that.)
Sighing, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, enjoying the rich scent of the hot chocolate and the roaring of the fire. Even though he was alone, it was quite nice. He’d have to remember to suggest this to Ron and Hermione for next year; he knew Ron would have loved to set up his chess set on the table by the fire, and Hermione most certainly wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to read in such a comfortable armchair. And the hot chocolate — the elves had really outdone themselves; Harry had never tasted anything quite like it. It really was turning out to be a nice holiday….
“Evening, Mr. Potter,” said the very voice Harry had been dreading all evening.
Very slowly he opened his eyes and turned around in his chair, careful to hide the fear that had frozen his formerly toasty insides. There, standing back between Harry’s chair and its twin, stood Professor Snape. The shifting shadows caused by the firelight made the man appear even fiercer than usual.
“Hello, Professor,” Harry managed calmly enough, though he was positive that Snape noticed his terror.
For a moment Snape simply stood there, his gaze turned to the fire. Then he abruptly stepped between the two chairs and sat down in the other high-backed armchair, crossing his legs comfortably. And this was turning out to be such a nice night, Harry thought.
Snape remained silent for a few minutes, but then he startled Harry by suddenly summoning a house elf to fetch him something to drink. After the elf returned, a second mug of cocoa was placed on the table next to Harry’s, the silence resumed once again, and Harry found himself fidgeting nervously.
“I didn’t expect to find you down here, Potter,” Snape said after taking a cautious sip from his mug. “I expected you to be up in your dorm, fiddling with whatever gifts your partners in crime left for you,” he finished, returning the mug to the table.
Harry jerked in surprise at the mention of the word ‘gift,’ but then forced himself to relax and reply. “I like it down here, sir,” he said, and Snape nodded calmly. Once again, there was no sound save for the crackling of the fire, with an occasional burst of sparks up the chimney.
At long last, Harry couldn’t take any more of it. “Please don’t kill me, Professor Snape! I just wanted…,” he stammered.
The Potions Master whirled to face him; his expression twisted into an angry snarl. “You just wanted WHAT, Potter? To pass my class? Or to play some vile prank on your hated Potions Professor?” he growled bitterly, the corner of his eye twitching in restrained fury.
Harry shrank away, but banished the fear from his voice and face. He stared at the Potions Master with firm resolve. “I just wanted everyone to have a good Christmas, Professor Snape,” he said, and furrowed his eyebrows in determination.
Snape watched him for a long moment, black eyes flicking back and forth as they studied his expression, struggling to find some fault that would identify a mistruth. After a long moment, he leaned back in his chair, the sneer and scowl disappearing from his face. Harry watched him warily.
“And what gives you the right to interfere in the way I spend my holiday?” Snape said, watching the fire. His voice was still cold, but the anger had disappeared.
“My first year at Hogwarts was the only time I’ve had a real Christmas, Professor. I don’t like to see anyone not enjoying at least something about the holiday. You didn’t seem to like anything about it, so I decided to get you a gift, so that you might have at least one good memory of Christmas,” Harry said, pausing to make sure Snape’s expression hadn’t turned violent. “Professor McGonagall told me about the cat you’d had once, and how upset you were when it ran off, so I thought you might like another one.” Harry shifted under the stern gaze that Snape had fixed on him. Then a disturbing thought rose in his head, and he nervously asked, “You didn’t… kill it, did you?”
Snape erupted with a loud, astonishing laugh. As he watched Harry, his expression seemed to say, “Imagine that, the brat did something interesting.”
“No, Potter, I didn’t kill it. Despite whatever speculations about me you have in that head of yours, I don’t make a habit of murdering students and kittens. Although I admit, I have been sorely tempted on many occasions,” he said, his mouth curved in an amused smile.
Harry sat back, relieved. A soft meow startled him a moment later, and when he looked back toward his professor, a small kitten slid out of some hidden, inner pocket of Snape’s robes and landed lightly in the man’s lap, where it proceeded to curl up contentedly. Snape dropped his hand from the chair’s armrest and began to stroke the kitten lightly, his eyes focused on the fire. Harry couldn’t believe that Snape wasn’t furious at him — well, he had been at first, but the sight of the evil Potions Master petting the kitten was simply too much to believe.
“Thank you, Potter,” Snape said. “For once you’ve shown that you do have some brains in that head of yours.” A note of disgust entered his voice as he finished, “You do realize, of course, that if I’d opened that box and found Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, you would be dead now.”
Harry watched his professor for a moment, then a smile slowly crept its way onto his face. “You’re welcome,” he said, and after a moment of consideration, “Merry Christmas, Professor.” He took a sip from his mug of hot cocoa.
Snape reached for his own mug and held it on the armrest for a moment, contemplating the shrinking flames of the fire. “Merry Christmas, Potter,” he said, and smiled as he lightly scratched Caedus behind the ears.
Harry leaned back in his chair, grinning from ear to ear. He’d succeeded. His mission to get Professor Snape to have a good holiday had actually worked, and now the man was even smiling. Harry took a drink of his cocoa and sighed in contentment, settling deeper into the chair. It looked as if miracles really did happen on Christmas.
“Oh, and Potter?” Snape added, “Don’t ever go into my rooms again.”
1 thought on “The Christmas Gift – Chapter 4”