Later, Snape realized that the whole thing began in the staff room with an innocent question that Minerva McGonagall asked him.
“Severus, are you one of the Northumberland Snapes?”
Snape looked up, distracted from the memo he was reading, and answered Professor McGonagall without giving the matter much thought. “No. My father’s family came from Yorkshire.”
“Oh. I just wondered.” Professor McGonagall nodded, then left the staff room, carrying her memos with her.
Dobby the house-elf was dusting the staff mailboxes, crawling along the top amongst the Christmas ornaments arranged there, wielding his flannel dust rag and looking earnest and upset. But Snape hadn’t given much thought to that either; he’d returned to his memo from Madam Pomfrey, which warned about students coughing and sneezing into open air and passing along colds, influenza, and possibly even embedding-strawberry-pilonidal pox. The memo ended with the yearly plea to remind students to cover their noses and mouths when coughing and sneezing, especially during this chilly winter weather, when students were mostly inside and in close proximity to each other.
“Professor?” Dobby’s voice interrupted Snape’s sour ruminations about coughing and sneezing students.
Suppressing the urge to say something nasty-tempered to Dobby, who bowed at him from on top of the staff mail boxes, Snape turned his attention to the house elf. “Yes?”
Dobby hesitated a moment, then hopped from the top of the mailboxes to the floor, landing with a resounding thud, which caused dust to be jarred out of the dust cloth still clutched in one elf hand. Dobby clenched both hands before him, his ears drooping. “Professor, Dobby is sorry... Dobby is so sorry... Dobby was wrong to have“have stolen it.”
Snape made himself pause before he answered, so he could be sure to be calm. “Stolen what, Dobby?”
Dobby bowed again. “Professor, Dobby stole“but it was“Dobby was afraid Harry Potter would die...”
Potter. Always, things came back to Potter. Snape took a deep breath to cool the ire that rose at the mention of that particular student. “What did you steal, Dobby?”
“Dobby stole the Gillyweed for Harry Potter, Professor. When Harry Potter was to go into the lake to get his Wheezy back.”
Oh. That. It had been almost two years ago. A lot had happened since that time, and Potter had taken on new habits to annoy Snape. “I’m glad you have admitted to stealing the Gillyweed, Dobby.”
“Dobby can never forgive himself, Professor...”
Oh, that would not do. Now that Dobby had spoken of it, he would never quit speaking of it from this point on, unless Snape did something instantly to put an end to it. The idea of Dobby following him from one part of the castle to another, apologizing all the way, was not pleasant. “Nonsense. I forgive you, Dobby,” Snape said quickly.
“How can Professor ever forgive Dobby when Dobby stole...”
“Quite easily. I forgive you, Dobby. Come, now. We’re nearing Christmas, aren’t we.” Snape grasped at straws. “It’s the time of year to forgive old wrongs. I forgive you. And now you must forgive yourself.” The house elf had better forgive himself, or Snape would never be free of a Dobby who followed him about begging forgiveness!
“Oh, thank you, Professor.” Dobby dropped to his knees and looked up at Snape with relief in his bulbous eyes. “Dobby is very grateful... Professor is merciful...”
Inwardly cursing the Malfoy family for warping a house-elf so badly, Snape leaned down and patted Dobby’s bony shoulder. At least the elf was clean. Patting the shoulder of a grimy house elf, such as that disgusting one at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, would be beyond repulsive.
And that, Snape thought as he left the staff room, was the end of the matter.
**********************************************************************
Snape was enjoying a nice sleep-in on Christmas morning. And for once, he had managed at least momentarily to escape the stress of his life, the annoyance of teaching, and the ceaseless burden of what he was doing for Dumbledore by not merely lying in bed, but sleeping.
He awoke with the unsettling feeling that somebody was looking at him. Forcing himself fully awake, Snape found himself eye-to-eye with Dobby, who was smiling brightly. Oh no. Not Dobby.
“Happy Christmas, Professor Snape,” Dobby chirped blithely.
“Dobby, you shouldn’t sneak up on people while they’re sleeping! I might have backhanded you without even thinking!” Snape sat up in his bed, shaking from the rush of adrenaline.
“Dobby would not be hurt, Professor. Dobby has been backhanded many times, and if Professor did not mean to hurt Dobby, Dobby would not be bothered.”
Wonderful. “Nonetheless, it’s not wise to sneak up on sleeping people. Don’t do it anymore.”
“Yes, Professor. Dobby will not do it again.” Dobby continued to grin at Snape. “Dobby has a present for Professor!”
Snape sat up on his bed, trying not to be self-conscious about his threadbare gray flannel nightshirt, his hairy legs, or the fact that he’d not taken a shower the night before and therefore did not smell his best. “Oh. I’m sorry, Dobby“I didn’t realize you were getting me something, or I would have...”
“Oh, no, Professor, Dobby does not wish to have a gift from Professor. Dobby is only so thankful Professor is so good at forgiving. Dobby has not forgotten that Professor forgave Dobby for stealing.” Dobby held out a soft package wrapped in blue and silver Christmas paper and topped by a mass of red, gold, and vivid green curly ribbon. “Dobby noticed that Professor needed new ones!”
“Well... thank you, Dobby.” Snape took the package. It felt like a collection of about eight or so folded boxer shorts. Had Dobby decided that Snaspe’s boxer shorts needed replacing? Ever since the forgiveness scene in the staff room, Dobby had taken over doing Snape’s laundry.
“Open it, Professor,” Dobby urged, his eyes glowing in excitement.
Snape opened the package dutifully.
And onto his lap tumbled, not eight or so new boxer shorts, but two folded items made of vividly yellow and blue plaid flannel.
“It is pajamas, Professor,” Dobby explained, his ears quivering and his grin widening. “Pajamas in Yorkshire tartan! Dobby heard Professor tell Professor McGonagall that Professor’s father’s family was from Yorkshire, and Dobby bought Professor pajamas in Yorkshire tartan!”
Dumbfounded was not a strong enough word. Bright yellow pajamas. With blue plaid. No. Oh no. Snape had spent years carefully guarding his reputation for fierceness, down to each detail of his life, even down to his underwear. And now a neat folded flannel package was to ruin his whole...
No, that was overstating it. It wasn’t that bad. Not quite, anyway. These were pajamas. He wouldn’t be wearing them in front of his classes. Scratch that! He wouldn’t be wearing them at all!
But the look of happy expectancy on Dobby’s face called to some corner of Snape’s soul. How many times had he, as a child, presented someone he cared for with some little thing and then collapsed within when that person had rejected his gift? Could he stand to see Dobby’s face fall with disappointment?
“Thank you, Dobby. These are very nice.”
“Oh, Professor, they are made of the best flannel in the world!” Dobby jumped up and down a few times, tears of joy sliding down his cheeks. “Dobby is so glad Professor likes them!”
Later, as Snape glumly unwrapped the other gifts given to him by staff members and some students, he realized that he would have to wear the flamboyantly-colored pajamas, because if he didn’t, Dobby would not find them in his laundry, and would feel bad.
Hopefully Dobby would not mention his gift to the other house elves. Hopefully Dobby did laundry all by himself, and not with a group of elves. Hopefully the students would never find out that Snape possessed, and sometimes wore, bright yellow and blue pajamas. Hopefully even the staff wouldn’t find out about his unusual new nightwear, although with the way house elves talked amongst themselves, that might not be possible.
But perhaps it really was the thought that counted. And after all, Snape thought as he dropped his old gray nightshirt into the laundry basket, Professor did need new ones.
Professor Needs New Ones--A Christmas Story by Spottedcat
Chapter Notes: I wrote this for the Ravenclaw "Little Old Gray Eagles" Christmas collection.
Enjoy!