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Title: Crucio for Christmas
Author: ???
Rating: PG
Characters: Severus, Minerva, Voldemort
Prompt(s): 81:- Minerva/Severus- Christmas during the DH year
Warnings: None
Summary: The best presents often can’t be wrapped.
Word Count: 794
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros, Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.


There’s nothing that says Happy Christmas as well as a bout of Crucio.

And there’s nothing so touching as the loyalty of your colleagues.

It was Christmas and he should be in Spinner’s End with a turkey meal for one, a battered plastic Christmas tree with three baubles and a strand of limp tinsel, and the Queen’s speech on the telly. It was, he supposed, a form of masochism to dwell on memories of his Muggle Christmases long ago.

He didn’t need to worry about self-inflicted punishment this evening. His Lordship was going to take care of that himself, if Severus wasn’t careful.

“Sseveruss, how good of you to join us.”

Severus dropped to a knee. “My lord.”

“How goess thingss at Hogwartss?”

Severus ruthlessly quelled any thought about His Lordship’s unfortunate tendency to sibilants. “As you commanded, my lord. I hope I have proved worthy of your trust.”

“And yet, the Carrows bring tales of you encouraging Muggle traditions at the school.”

“They bring you tales, my Lord, that much is true.”

Voldemort weighed the words, letting moments pass in a heavy silence. “They lie?”

Severus raised his eyes to his Master, inviting him to see for himself, pushing forward the scenes he wished Lord Voldemort to see, the conversation he’d had with Minerva that morning.


“You must see, Headmaster, that the children will need some sort of celebration, some cheer in their life,” she said, lips pursed. “Hogwarts has always put up a tree, arranged presents for those in need, and made children feel like this was their home.”

She didn’t mention how many children wouldn’t be able to go home this winter. The Carrows might stalk the halls, but with him to keep them in check, it was still safer than the Wizarding World in general.

Here, there was order, if not justice.

Not that they appreciated that.

“They are here to learn,” he replied. “Not to enjoy themselves.”

“It wouldn’t be much – a tree, some chocolate for all, and a night off from … the usual discipline of the school.” She swallowed hard.

“And will you stand bail for their good behaviour?”

“If necessary. I trust the children, and I’m sure they can be persuaded to behave.”

“And there we have our difference, Minerva. You should command, not persuade.”

“And if I commanded you…”

Severus drew up in his chair. “You forget yourself,” he said coldly.

“Then we can agree on the value of persuasion,” she replied. “Severus, I appeal to your better nature.”



Severus allowed the Dark Lord to see the sting of Minerva using his name for the first time since he’d become Headmaster, the sharp pang of anger and bitterness, tinged with contempt for her obviousness.

“And yet you granted her requessst,” the Dark Lord said, and his grip tightened on Snape’s head, sharp fingers digging into his scalp. “Why?”

“Hope, my Lord.”

The Dark Lord’s breath hissed out in a long exhalation. “Hope? Severus, what need do they have for hope?”

“None at all.” Severus allowed himself a wintry smile. “And yet offering them hope will make them more biddable in the end, more perfectly yours, my Lord. They will see that you can be beneficent and they will hope that you can be beneficent again.”

“So they will curry favour?”

“More than that, my Lord. It is only people without hope who will rebel. Even the slightest chance of earning a respite in the future will be enough to keep these children quiet and contented for weeks.”

The Dark Lord’s fingers tightened in his hair, and there was an odd note in his voice when he said, “Hope, you say?”

“My Lord.”

“You underssstand…” said the Dark Lord, and there was something in his voice that made Snape’s blood run cold. “The otherss do not ssee thiss.”

The Dark Lord did not see him look up; his eyes were fixed over Snape’s head looking at Lucius’ shambling figure.

And by the time he looked down again at his servant, Snape had summoned up enough gratitude at being in His Lord’s service to give the impression that he still hoped for advancement, for favour, to live, even.

The Carrows drew closer, scenting victory.

“Enough,” the Dark Lord said. “You did right. Tell Minerva that sshe sshall have her Chrisstmass celebrationsss after all.”

And no matter that his gift to Minerva could not be wrapped, she had enough experience of the after effects of Crucio that she would be able to assess the Carrow’s suffering, and to enjoy that moment when they had paid for the sins of their teaching career.

There’s nothing so touching as the loyalty of your colleagues.

And there’s nothing that says happy Christmas as well as a bout of Crucio.
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