A Motherly Intervention.

Title: Merry Christmas.
Author: pekeleke
Rating: T
Pairing(s): Severus Snape/Harry Potter.
Challenge: Prompt 25 (Picked from an online seasonal prompt list): Sweaters.
Word Count: 1189
Content: Chapter 25 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 1: Unbeated. Posting one chapter a day from December 1st to the 25th.
Summary: Severus unwraps his present as delicately as he has dealt with others. He's enjoying every second of the experience. From the curious weighing of the gift, and the careful tugging off the Spellotape, to the reverent pushing aside of crinkly wrapping paper, and, finally, the unveiling of the treasure within.

Merry Christmas.

To the disappointment of the little ones, Christmas day dawns bright and cloudless. There's not even a hint of snow marring the blinding blueness of the winter sky. Molly looks on in mild amusement as the rest of the family staggers into the living room in various stages of sleepiness and gathers around the Christmas tree. Thank Merlin she has coffee and tea at the ready.

Two rounds of caffeine and hot cocoa later, both Hermione and Ginny are leaning against one another while their husbands flash them equally worried little looks from the fireside love seat. The children are wriggling on their cushions, too excited to keep still, and George sits on the tree rug, reading the labels on the parcels as he picks them up before passing them along to the right recipient.

Molly smiles contentedly as each present draws an Oh!, an Ah!, and some even a bark of laughter from the increasingly waking crowd. During the course of the morning, Molly receives a fine necklace, a new apron, another french cookbook, a rather lovely woolly hat, and a pair of purple slippers. She's doing well if she says so herself. Her treasure trove of gifts grows steadily as she sits on her rocking chair and enjoys the sight of her entire family gathered around her. Everyone is home. Everyone is safe. Everyone has a reason to look forward to tomorrow. That is the best Christmas gift of all, in Molly's humble opinion.

Severus sits quietly with Harry on the corner bench. He's been worryingly subdued since the day the news of their relationship broke, but he hasn't left. Or thrown a tantrum. Or reneged on the ties he's built with all of them. Molly is proud of him. Proud of both her boys, really. Their coming out hasn't been easy, and it'll probably drag out miserably for a couple of months longer. Still, they're managing to weather it, and that's the most important thing. No storm lasts forever and all that. Soon enough, there will be a far more salacious scandal. The public will focus on that instead, and Molly's boys will be finally free to walk hand in hand on the streets without attracting the attention of every rude gawker under the sun.

George passes the last parcel to Severus, and Molly leans forward on her chair. She wants to see his face lit up when he finally sees it. She's been watching him eye every sweater with curiosity as each member of the family opened theirs, pulling them gleefully out of their wrapping and donning them on the spot. Molly had heard Harry explain to him that it's tradition. Every Weasley gets a Weasley sweater on Christmas day.

Severus places the parcel in his lap and looks straight at her. There's a question in his eyes, but also the certainty that he knows the answer already. Molly nods in encouragement, and he swallows a bit loudly, looking visibly nervous.

"You OK?" Harry asks him softly, nuzzling his cheek lovingly, and Severus colors bashfully when George catcalls out loud, the utter fiend.

"Oh. Shut it, you prat. You were snogging Angelina in the first-floor loo for twenty minutes straight. I had urgent things to do in that lav, mate, and I still managed to avoid making a fuss," Harry growls.

"How is your chivalry my fault, little bro?" George retorts cheekily and then yelps when Arthur leans forward and cuffs him on the back of the head.

"Let Severus open his gift, son. Then I can finally lay my hands on that magnificent pudding," he says, greedily eyeing Molly's glorious chocolate masterpiece, which sits in suitable splendor in the middle of the buffet table. Harry's fancy baking pans have done their job brilliantly.

Severus unwraps his present as delicately as he has dealt with all the others. He's enjoying every second of the experience. From the curious weighing of the gift, and the careful tugging off the Spellotape, to the reverent pushing aside of crinkly wrapping paper, and, finally, the unveiling of the treasure within.

Severus stares at the contents of this particular parcel for ages, and every Weasley present holds their breath, watching him come to terms with what he already knows. With what they all already know too. Severus is a Weasley, and his first Christmas sweater, knitted by Molly's very own hands, proves it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Pale, potion-tainted fingertips close around soft purple wool. They pull the jumper up, raising it high enough for the rest of the family to catch a glimpse of the bright orange S stitched in the middle of it, a mere second before the jumper's brand-new owner buries his overwhelmed face among the plush woolen folds. Harry curls himself protectively around Severus, loving hands rubbing the potioneer's bony back soothingly.

"It's alright. It's alright, sweetheart. The jumper is real. I promise you. I remember crying like a baby when I got my first one too. Ron was so embarrassed by my wailing that he stuffed a mince pie inside my mouth."

Severus snorts and looks up oh-so-slowly, "I'm not crying. And I'm not wailing either. That'd be utterly uncouth, Harry," he huffs. Harry smiles at him with so much love that Molly can't help but sigh, contented beyond measure.

"Shame," Ron pipes up. He's far away enough from Severus to feel brave, "I was looking forward to shoving a mince pie inside your mouth too. I could start a family tradition. In fact, that gives me the perfect excuse to shove a pie in Draco's mouth right now. I need to catch him retroactively, so to speak."

"Oi!" Ginny interrupts him with a well-aimed cushion to the face, "Don't you dare touch my man, Ronikins."

Draco looks smugly at Ron, and half the household bursts into loud laughter. Molly laughs alongside them, even though her attention is still focused on Harry and Severus. Severus has just finished putting on his sweater. He's looking down, running reverent hands over the giant S in the middle. Harry watches him for a moment, letting Severus bask in the feeling of belonging that must be filling his heart to bursting, and then leans forward oh-so-slowly and kisses him softly on the lips. Severus smiles brightly enough to look ten years younger and kisses Harry right back, the touch gentle as a summer breeze.

Both her boys soon forget where they are. Joining one another inside a little bubble of bliss where no one else can reach them. Molly looks on with relief. Feeling immensely proud of them. Of herself. They're both finally safe. Finally in love. Finally happier than they've ever been before.

Molly managed to pull off her Christmas miracle, after all. And now her family is finally complete. Well, not finally, finally, but finally-ish. There's still plenty of room for grandchildren. And their partners. And great-grandchildren, even. Molly has room enough to spare in both her home and her heart. She believes that the fuller her house, the better. That's the secret to the Weasley's luck when it comes to love, after all. A house full of companionship and camaraderie; a house full of laughter and affection, is the secret to a happy ending. And happy endings are Molly's favorite kind. 

The End.