shiv5468 (shiv5468) wrote in adventdrabbles, @ 2007-12-11 00:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | contributor: shiv5468, dec09, dec10, fandom: harry potter, year: 2007 |
Dec 9, 10, Harry Potter, Severus
Title: A Christmas Wreath
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: Gen
Length: Drabbleish
We left Severus under the stars and wondering if his fate were fixed.....
The letter had disrupted his quiet life beyond hope of repair. He didn't know what had taken him to the fortune teller. His father had never believed in such nonsense, but then he'd never believed in much of anything, even magic. He didn't believe, either, and it disturbed him that he was so similar to a man he'd hated all his life.
So he'd crossed the woman's hand with silver, and prepared to be lied to.
He was used to that.
"You've had a letter," she said.
He wasn't impressed. It was a small town, and the woman at the post office gossiped.
"And you're wondering what to do." She grinned, suddenly, and he thought of Sybill and shuddered. "Oh I see you don't think much of me, boy. But still, your silver's good, so I'll tell you truth - you won't be able to face your future, until you face your past."
Which was both true, and told him nothing.
The Gypsy's words stayed with him. He took out his letter of an evening, and laid it carefully on the table to read.
His pardon. His ticket home. His future, for good or ill.
Perhaps, after Christmas was over?
And then, one evening, his neighbours brought him over some things he could use to decorate his house to make it more cheerful, and it had seemed right to follow the old traditions and make a spruce wreath to go on the front door, weaving in white hellebore and red hips.
But its nature changed in his hands, turning darker, and, almost without conscious thought, he found himself on a cold Scottish hillside looking at a marble tomb.
"I've brought you something," he said. "You old bastard."
He thought about the symbolism of it all. He was probably supposed to beg for forgiveness, or try to come to terms with things, and then he could heal and move on. That was probably what that daft old biddy thought.
Fuck that.
It was cold when he got his cock out, and the chill made a cloud of steam rise around him as he carefully urinated on Dumbledore's tomb.
When he'd finished, shaking the last few drops free, he tucked himself away. He looked up at Hogwarts, a few lights flickering in the darkness.
He'd take the wreath to Minerva, and see if she was talking to him, see what this future might look like.
It might even have eggnog.