Snark Summer
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
2,057
Reviews:
15
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
2,057
Reviews:
15
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
One Perfect Moment
Chapter 4 – One Perfect Moment
Severus watched as the three children ran along the beach. If Narcissa could see Draco now, tossing a screaming Tina into the shallow waves, his transfigured swimsuit soaked, his perfect hair mussed and his face red with laughter and exertion, she would faint.
Minuet was building a sand castle with the same tools Severus had used when he was a boy here. The tiny turrets and crenellated walls she pressed out and carefully placed, the sand soldiers who marched along the battlements, the little wooden drawbridge, all were reminders of the few happy moments of his childhood. He remembered Grandmother Agatha sitting on this porch watching him as he now watched these children.
His son was due to be born in August. He was still unsure about the future he would have with the baby. He wondered if someday he would be sitting here watching Orion and feeling the same sense of peace as he did now. Or would the child learn to hate him for bringing him into the world?
Wind blew Minuet’s hair into a trailing black banner and her purple bathing suit outlined a figure that told him she would soon be snatched up by some young man. He had watched it all for years: the scrawny, huddled, frightened eleven-year-olds coming into the Great Hall in a mass of nerves and then the gradual change to young men and women who stepped away from Hogwarts as bright confident adults. It made him feel old, it made him sad and it made him worry.
When the final battle came, how many of the children he had taught would fall beneath his wand? Would he himself die looking into the eyes of a child he had comforted and cared for? He pulled his mind gently away and back to this moment, back to Tina shrieking and being chased by a laughing Draco. Back to the few perfect moments of childhood which were all he could give these children whom Voldemort had stripped of their innocent youth.
Severus stepped back and waited: the reaction was simple but spectacular. The alembic erupted in sparkling green flame and smoke. Minuet and Tina stared at it in open-mouthed wonder. Draco, who had seen the reaction a dozen times before, stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, a smirk on his face.
“Wow.” Tina breathed in awe as glittering green sparks danced upwards. “Do it again, Uncle Severus!” she begged as the flames and sparks faded, bouncing with excitement. Severus gave her an indulgent smile and dribbled more arsenic into the alembic. Once more the flames and sparks dazzled the little girl and she reached for the arsenic with eager hands.
Nearly twenty years in a lab and as a teacher gave him a reaction speed beyond the norm and he snatched the vial from under her questing fingers.
“No!” He snapped and watched her face crumble into tears. He knelt before the child and gripped her shoulders. “Tina, arsenic is a deadly poison.” The child clung to him and began sobbing heartbrokenly and he looked at Minuet in confusion. “Surely I wasn’t quite so terrifying?”
“No Uncle Severus, she’s just been weepy since Da died.” Minuet’s voice was filled with a weary compassion that was far too mature for her fifteen years. How much of Tina’s fragility had she been shouldering lately?
“Understandable.” He bit off the rest of the thought. Understandable for a child whose father has been murdered, who has been spat on and mistreated, searched by Aurors and all the other horrors that this seven-year-old child had been put through.
Draco was watching with cold angry eyes, thinking no doubt of the Dark Lord and of how many lives had been destroyed by him. Lucius wrote regularly from Azkaban, but Draco would not tell him what was in his father’s letters. Still, after one came, Draco would look pale and strained for some time afterwards.
He carried the little girl up the stairs and sat in one of the white pine kitchen chairs, pulling her onto his lap and letting her sob into his shirt. It was a broken-hearted sound that tore at his heart but he knew the best cure for grief was grieving; he certainly had enough experience at it.
Soon the sobs were receding and she lay against his chest, quiescent with only a few sniffles to iate ate her continued awareness.
He pulled a handkerchief from a pocket in his pants and presented it to Fortina, who blew her nose noisily and wiped at her face. Minuet and Draco had remained downstairs. Draco was setting up for the brewing they would be doing today and Minuet was helping him, no doubt; cowardly children abandoning him to deal with the grieving little girl. Not that he was inexperienced at this, but he still didn’t find it a task he relished.
“Better?” He asked her, retrieving his sodden handkerchief. A quick flick of the fabric and the Soil-Away Charm was activated. He tucked the now clean and dry handkerchief into his pocket again and bent his attention to Fortina.
“Yes, Uncle Severus.” She nodded. “I’m sorry for being a bother.” She mumbled, obviously expecting a reprimand. He must remember to disembowel his father at the earliest possible moment.
“You are not a bother, Tina.” He retorted, imagining his father in Lucius’ dungeons with a warm feeling of joy.
“Lord Snape says…” She began with the lip starting to tremble.
“Tina, my father is not an authority that you should ever quote.” ‘Lord Snape,’ he scoffed mentally; pretentious prick. “In fact, my father is not very good at emotional situations.” That sentence could go into the Magical Book of World Records as the biggest understatement of the century. However, Tina looked up at him with shining eyes and choked off his air with a fierce hug. avedaved himself by removing her from his lap and setting her on her feet. “Ready to go back?”
“Yes, Uncle Severus.” She slipped a hand into his and leaned against his leg. He was not sure that he was the best guardian for a little girl but he seemed to be avoiding causing any major traumas in the child’s fragile psyche. That was encouraging.
He had a momentary flash of Kathryn -- a memory of her curled up in a chair with her stocking feet on his lap as she read and the look in her eyes as she glanced at him. Perhaps there was hope that he wasn’t a complete monster.
Severus watched as the three children ran along the beach. If Narcissa could see Draco now, tossing a screaming Tina into the shallow waves, his transfigured swimsuit soaked, his perfect hair mussed and his face red with laughter and exertion, she would faint.
Minuet was building a sand castle with the same tools Severus had used when he was a boy here. The tiny turrets and crenellated walls she pressed out and carefully placed, the sand soldiers who marched along the battlements, the little wooden drawbridge, all were reminders of the few happy moments of his childhood. He remembered Grandmother Agatha sitting on this porch watching him as he now watched these children.
His son was due to be born in August. He was still unsure about the future he would have with the baby. He wondered if someday he would be sitting here watching Orion and feeling the same sense of peace as he did now. Or would the child learn to hate him for bringing him into the world?
Wind blew Minuet’s hair into a trailing black banner and her purple bathing suit outlined a figure that told him she would soon be snatched up by some young man. He had watched it all for years: the scrawny, huddled, frightened eleven-year-olds coming into the Great Hall in a mass of nerves and then the gradual change to young men and women who stepped away from Hogwarts as bright confident adults. It made him feel old, it made him sad and it made him worry.
When the final battle came, how many of the children he had taught would fall beneath his wand? Would he himself die looking into the eyes of a child he had comforted and cared for? He pulled his mind gently away and back to this moment, back to Tina shrieking and being chased by a laughing Draco. Back to the few perfect moments of childhood which were all he could give these children whom Voldemort had stripped of their innocent youth.
Severus stepped back and waited: the reaction was simple but spectacular. The alembic erupted in sparkling green flame and smoke. Minuet and Tina stared at it in open-mouthed wonder. Draco, who had seen the reaction a dozen times before, stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, a smirk on his face.
“Wow.” Tina breathed in awe as glittering green sparks danced upwards. “Do it again, Uncle Severus!” she begged as the flames and sparks faded, bouncing with excitement. Severus gave her an indulgent smile and dribbled more arsenic into the alembic. Once more the flames and sparks dazzled the little girl and she reached for the arsenic with eager hands.
Nearly twenty years in a lab and as a teacher gave him a reaction speed beyond the norm and he snatched the vial from under her questing fingers.
“No!” He snapped and watched her face crumble into tears. He knelt before the child and gripped her shoulders. “Tina, arsenic is a deadly poison.” The child clung to him and began sobbing heartbrokenly and he looked at Minuet in confusion. “Surely I wasn’t quite so terrifying?”
“No Uncle Severus, she’s just been weepy since Da died.” Minuet’s voice was filled with a weary compassion that was far too mature for her fifteen years. How much of Tina’s fragility had she been shouldering lately?
“Understandable.” He bit off the rest of the thought. Understandable for a child whose father has been murdered, who has been spat on and mistreated, searched by Aurors and all the other horrors that this seven-year-old child had been put through.
Draco was watching with cold angry eyes, thinking no doubt of the Dark Lord and of how many lives had been destroyed by him. Lucius wrote regularly from Azkaban, but Draco would not tell him what was in his father’s letters. Still, after one came, Draco would look pale and strained for some time afterwards.
He carried the little girl up the stairs and sat in one of the white pine kitchen chairs, pulling her onto his lap and letting her sob into his shirt. It was a broken-hearted sound that tore at his heart but he knew the best cure for grief was grieving; he certainly had enough experience at it.
Soon the sobs were receding and she lay against his chest, quiescent with only a few sniffles to iate ate her continued awareness.
He pulled a handkerchief from a pocket in his pants and presented it to Fortina, who blew her nose noisily and wiped at her face. Minuet and Draco had remained downstairs. Draco was setting up for the brewing they would be doing today and Minuet was helping him, no doubt; cowardly children abandoning him to deal with the grieving little girl. Not that he was inexperienced at this, but he still didn’t find it a task he relished.
“Better?” He asked her, retrieving his sodden handkerchief. A quick flick of the fabric and the Soil-Away Charm was activated. He tucked the now clean and dry handkerchief into his pocket again and bent his attention to Fortina.
“Yes, Uncle Severus.” She nodded. “I’m sorry for being a bother.” She mumbled, obviously expecting a reprimand. He must remember to disembowel his father at the earliest possible moment.
“You are not a bother, Tina.” He retorted, imagining his father in Lucius’ dungeons with a warm feeling of joy.
“Lord Snape says…” She began with the lip starting to tremble.
“Tina, my father is not an authority that you should ever quote.” ‘Lord Snape,’ he scoffed mentally; pretentious prick. “In fact, my father is not very good at emotional situations.” That sentence could go into the Magical Book of World Records as the biggest understatement of the century. However, Tina looked up at him with shining eyes and choked off his air with a fierce hug. avedaved himself by removing her from his lap and setting her on her feet. “Ready to go back?”
“Yes, Uncle Severus.” She slipped a hand into his and leaned against his leg. He was not sure that he was the best guardian for a little girl but he seemed to be avoiding causing any major traumas in the child’s fragile psyche. That was encouraging.
He had a momentary flash of Kathryn -- a memory of her curled up in a chair with her stocking feet on his lap as she read and the look in her eyes as she glanced at him. Perhaps there was hope that he wasn’t a complete monster.