The Family Colors.
Title: The Family Colors.
Author: pekeleke
Rating: T
Pairing(s): Severus Snape/Harry Potter.
Challenge: Prompt 19 (Picked from an online seasonal prompt list): Fuzzy Socks.
Word Count: 848
Content: Chapter 19 of my Christmas Series: A Motherly Intervention.
Warnings: Getting Together. Enemies to friends to lovers. Mild Angst. Romance.
Disclaimer: The characters, setting, and the HP franchise are owned by JKR and not me. I make no profit from writing this piece of fanfiction.
A/N: Unbeated. Posting one chapter a day from December 1st to the 25th.
Summary: “If this is the type of shenanigans you get up to under the guise of playing Secret Santa, then I’m afraid I’ve been uncommonly kind to my giftee. I shall do better next time.” Severus mock-threatens, and Molly’s heart warms with joy at his casual assumption that he’ll take part in the exchange in the years to come.”
The Family Colors.
Laughter abounds during the family’s get-together to open the Secret Santa gifts. It’s a casual, cheerful occasion, and Molly treats it as such. She’s filled the side table with finger foods and light snacks, and everyone serves themselves whatever they’re in the mood for, as opposed to their usual custom of sitting around the table and enjoying a leisurely meal. The children are way too excited for that anyway. It’ll be the same on Christmas morning.
Molly’s already unwrapped her gift, fuzzy socks charmed to sprout ears at random, so she’s sitting comfortably on her rocking chair watching everyone else. So far, Angelina, who is famous for her lack of cooking skills, has received a cookbook. Hermione, a Spa ticket. George, the stuffiest monocle in existence. And Arthur, something horrid called suspenders in a ghastly shade of purple.
Severus is currently unwrapping his present. He’s halfway between quietly curious and filled with trepidation. Molly can see the tension in him, clear as day. It’s written in the rigid lines of his shoulders for everyone to see. Molly can’t even sigh at his wariness. Draco had been the same way the first time he played. Slytherins aren’t only starchy in manners and outlook. They have no sense of humor whatsoever, or they have it but use it so often to cause hurt that they can’t exchange a joke without suspicion.
Severus gasps when he finally unravels his parcel and stares in utter shock at the item within. Draco peers at it over his shoulder and instantly starts guffawing inelegantly, “Merlin! They’ve got you with that thing too.”
Severus turns towards him with a puzzled look on his face, “What is it?”
Draco’s smirk turns pure evil, “A wig. An orange one. They gave me one on my first round of Secret Santa. I think they did the same to poor Fleur. It’s a seal of approval of sorts. One of these wankers has gifted you Weasley hair, godfather.”
“You’ve got to put it on. Show us the look, Severus,” George pipes up from the corner, and the gleeful look in his face tells Molly that he’s responsible for this particular spot of mischief.
Severus can’t hide the utter horror the thought gives him, and his expression is so honestly hilarious that the rest of the household bursts into loud giggles. Severus blinks at them, looking for all the world like the most disgruntled owl in existence but, thankfully, doesn’t seem to be offended.
“If this is the type of shenanigans you get up to under the guise of playing Secret Santa, then I’m afraid I’ve been uncommonly kind to my giftee. I shall do better next time,” Severus mock-threatens, and Molly’s heart warms with joy at his casual assumption that he’ll take part in the exchange in the years to come.
“Don’t stall, Severus. You must show us the look,” Arthur demands, “I’m dying to see if our red hair will suit you.”
“Will you take my word for it and leave it at that if I tell you that it won’t?” Severus cajoles, but Arthur doesn’t give him an inch.
“Nope. Let’s see you in the family colors, son.”
“Fine!” Severus gives in with just a tad of gracelessness. He pulls the wig out of the wrapping and shoves it atop his head without even bothering to tuck it in properly. He doesn’t need to, though. It’s clear as day that red hair doesn’t suit him. It washes out his complexion and looks really stark with his gorgeous dark eyes. Ron is the first to start tittering, and soon everyone else has joined him, including Severus.
By the time Harry unwraps his own gift and discovers a garishly multicolored mug, sporting the legend “Hot Chocolate Is Not A Potion” on the front, Molly has to agree with Severus’s own statement. He was uncommonly kind to Harry. Molly supposes that’s what comes with the uncertainty of not knowing how far he could take his joke without causing offense. A man of Severus’s inventiveness will be ruthless indeed, in the best possible way, come next year’s Secret Santa. Molly is already feeling sorry for his future giftees.
As the afternoon winds down, so does the laughter that their unique little game brought about, and her children start pairing for more serious pursuits. Charlie is catching up with Bill. George is picking Hermione’s brain about a legal issue that has arisen with his Invisible Me Pastilles. Draco and Ron are playing chess in the corner. When she goes to pour herself a glass of water, Molly is heartened to see Harry and Severus sitting together at the kitchen table, Harry sipping hot chocolate from his brand new cup.
They look good drinking side by side, her boys. They’re chatting rather spiritedly about sandwiches, of all things. And Molly decides to leave them to it. She can always cast Aguamenti on her cup. Right now, it’s crucial to ensure the boys have some privacy. Something is building between them. Molly sincerely hopes it’s something gentle, and lovely, and romantic.