Work Text:
Balls of wool
A split second of incredule hesitation, then the elf stretched his trembling hand toward the small treasure, his wide eyes shining for the emotion.
Four galleons.
He moved each of them among his long fingers with awe, still incapable to believe he’d finally got that tiny, huge achievement.
His first monthly paycheck.
Even if he’d never let himself think about it, he already knew how to spend it.
-
“Dobby would like to buy nice balls of wool and knitting needles too, Sir, please!”
“How many balls?”
“All the balls you can gives Dobby for four galleons, thank you, Sir.”
***
“Merry Christmas, Sir! Dobby made you a present, professor, he made it with his own hands!” said the elf enthusiastic. While he offered the packet to the Headmaster, though, he felt a bit concerned. “I hopes you like it, Sir. I hopes it’s a proper gift for a such important professor as you is.”
Dumbledore looked at him through his half-moon spectacles, offering him a warm smile. “Oh, the proper gifts are terribly boring and extremely overrated, my dear Dobby” he confided him with a wink before unwrapping the present.
The elf looked at him with bated breath, stunned to see the Headmaster moved.
***
Albus unwrapped the gift and felt his eyes watering when he saw the content of the packet.
One of the socks had scarlet flying phoenixes on a golden background, the other – purple – was adorned with Hogwarts blazon.
“Thank you, Dobby” he murmured. “You couldn’t have given me a more welcomed gift.”
-
“I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks.
Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair.
People will insist on giving me books.”
He never told Harry that those socks were the last gift his sister Ariana gave him,
before everything changed.