Meddling

Hmm, AFF seems to have eaten the first two chapters here... I\'m trying to find another copy but I had my HD replaced last Xmas and lost alot of stuff. Apologies to all [insert disclaimer of not owning anything here].


A/N Sherbert Lemon for anyone who can spot my (slightly obscure I\'ll admit) movie reference. But if you\'ve seen the flick you should get it straight away :)

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Unable to comprehend Minerva’s words he had stumbled blindly out of the room, shrugging off her attempts to guide him somewhere else. He blinked, trying to get his eyes to focus and realised that he was staring at a blank section of stone facing along the side of the fireplace in his chambers. Had been for the better part of an hour now and his mind was still reeling.

[Merciful Zeus, that meddling old… ARGH!] his damn family loyalty wouldn’t let him insult his mother. Not unless she was around to hear it anyway. [Damn damn damn damn… what possessed her to…. ] He slammed his hand down hard on the mantle, making everything on it shake [Right- fireplace! Fire!] He poured himself a large snifter of brandy, enormous in fact when you considered that it was barely midday, and gulped it down before violently dashing a pinch of Floo powder into the grate and stepping into the flames.

‘Ager Villa Optimus Familiaris Snape!’ he shouted, wishing yet again that his great grandfather hadn’t been such a pretentious sod. ‘Country manor of the most noble family of Snape’ indeed. When he’d been a boy his Latin hadn’t always been up to scratch and he’d often gotten lost in the Floo system after bungling the pronunciation, he’d always hated travelling this way ever since the time he’d come out at a ruined cottage in the middle of a swamp just past the edge of the family estates. He had had no idea where he was and no way of contacting anyone, he had been trapped there the whole night shivering in the thin material of the fancy robes and cloak he’d been forced to wear to the late lunch at Malfoy Manor. He’d been found mid-morning the next day, huddled in a corner of the tumbledown cottage near delirious with pneumonia and clutching a clumsily sharpened stick so tightly two of his fathers servants had been unable to pry it from his fingers until he’d been escorted home to be bathed and put to bed. That was also the night he’d developed his terror of werewolves, though everyone whom he’d told at the time had simply dismissed it as a fever-dream. But finally, after eternal seconds of holding his breath, the herald-embossed grate of the Snape family fireplace loomed up and he stumbled out, patting his immaculate black robes just in case they had soot on them, though how he or anyone else would be able to tell would be anyone’s guess. He smoothed down his hair and took a moment to regain his composure after the short but nevertheless abhorrent journey. Once his breath no longer hitched in his chest he straightened up and strode menacingly from the empty Reception Parlor. He purposely spun sharply around a corner to make his long robes billow out behind himackiacking in the still air. His most fearsome scowl was in place when he practically kicked open the door to his mother’s suite and grabbed the nearest serving-man by the collar.

‘Tell her I want an audience NOW.’ He managed to force out through gritted teeth before shoving the sniveling man in the direction of the bedchamber. He had paced the length of the overly opulent room three times and was turning to start again when he was tapped on the shoulder. The serving-man was back, cringing deep inside his uniform at the sight of Severus’s black eyes burning so brightly the poor man felt like he was on his funeral pyre. Quickly he motioned to the open bedroom door, finally able to breathe again as Snapes’ dark presence exited the room.

‘Severus my dear, how nice of you to visit. It’s been so long since we’ve spoken.’

Isobella Snape was reclining on a roman lounge in front of the fire, a glass of assuredly expensive red wine and a platter of cheese and fruit on a small table in easy reach. She had the same high cheekbones and sharp nose as her son as well as the dead-straight hair, although hers was a faded ash blonde thanks to an ancestor in common with Lucius Malfoy. It lay in a straight bob cut level with her jawbone, framing her face perfectly and leaving the creamy white line of her throat bare, better to show off the constant string of rare black pearls. While not beautiful or even pretty by any means, the matriarch had a palpable aura of power around her that instantly attracted attention. Her classical, almost handsome features only accentuated her control.

Severus shunned the chair she gestured towards, knowing from experience that it was deliberately uncomfortable and too close to the fire as well as low to the ground. Instead he leaned against the elaborately carved mantelpiece and smiled his usual sardonic grin.

‘Indeed it has Mother, too long. But I am only an owl away after all.’ He replied smoothly. ‘Perhaps if you’d bothered to write to me you’d have realised what a waste of time your latest scheme is.’ He did his best to keep his face blank and voice low, getting angry with Isobella only ever worked in her favour.

A flicker of… was that amusement?… passed over the dame’s face, barely rippling the surface before her usual mask tightened its lips in its approximation of a smile.

‘You found out so soon? Pity, I was hoping it would take you a little longer, maybe have you open up the idea of being a desirable bachelor again. I knew you certainly wouldn’t see the advertisement itself, it’s well known you despise the Prophet.’

‘And of course I wouldn’t find it in the least bit strange that women who until yesterday showed every sign of absolutely despising me were suddenly seeking me out and actually flirting. Or that I woke up this morning after having being drugged and handcuffed to a bed by a crazy old bint whom is well aware of what I think of her and her so called ‘profession’ only to have her attempt to feed me strawberries!’ He had held on for as long as he could, but control finally fled. In an attempt not to throw anything at the woman who was blinking at him so serenely he held his arms rigidly by his sides, the one hidden from her view ending in fingers curled like claws that dug deep into the flesh of his thigh. The pain helped clear his mind and he took a deep breath.

‘I’ll have you know I’m perfectly satisfied as I am thank you. Besides, did it never occur to you that you’re practically putting a bounty on my head? My life is dangerous enough without a bunch of money-hungry females after me merely because they like shiny gold things and now thanks to you think I’m some pathetic lonely old man who’ll give it up at a flash of skin and a kind word.’

‘Nonsense my dear, think of it more as promised wedding gift, whomever the bride may be. You look tired Severus, have you been eating properly? Have a piece of chocolate.’

Snape growled softly at his mother.

‘I sleep just fine. I’m tired of you meddling in my life. Print a retraction and give up. I have no intent or any wish to get married and certainly not to have children of my own. Teaching the savages has merely reinforced that.’
ut Iut I thought it was only natural to desire family, a home.’ His mother frowned at him as she rose.

‘Then I guess I have no natural desires.’ He gave her his best snarky look, the one that sent even Madam Hooch backing away. ‘Hogwarts is my home and shall continue as such for as long as I can possibly arrange for it to be so. Living in a enormous and empty old house in the middle of nowhere with nothing better to do with my time than ordering around servants and taking High Tea and playing little one-upmanship power games has absolutely no appeal to me.’

Isobella Snape drew herself up to her full height and glared at her son. Severus recoiled slightly back against the stone fireplace at the energy radiating from her body before recalling to himself. He also straightened up and stared down his aristocratic nose at the diminutive woman that was on level with his chest.

‘Dearest Severus’ her voice was smooth, hypnotic, like being wrapped in finest satin.

[Oh sweet Circe, I’m in for it now]

‘My dear sweet boy’ a pale, fine-boned came up to caress his cheek. Then grabbed him hard by the chin. Her thin fingers looked fragile beyond belief but her grip was tempered steel. ‘Sweet, foolish boy. Of course you will marry. And you will have many, many fine children and then our lovely ancestral home will no longer be empty. The line of Snape will flourish again. It is down to you my boy. Your father’s death ensured that you would be the only one who could carry on our name and our spirit. It is your duty to your family and to yourself.’ Her mouth tightened, he was no longer wrapped in suffocating satin, he was being strangled by the sibilant hiss of her voice. He wrenched his face free, clenching his fists behind his back again so he wouldn’t reach up to his aching jaw.

‘Or what? You’ll disinherit me? Send me to my room without supper? Ignore me like you always have unless you wanted something from me? I’m not your ‘dear little boy’ anymore.’ He snapped, managing to slowly move away from Isobella’s flashing eyes without flinching. ‘I haven’t been for quite some time. If something is meant to happen, it will in its own time. You pushing this is not going to help anything. I may not believe in Destiny but I do believe in fate. You make your own path and the big things happen regardless. And I have chosen mine.’ He stalked from the room, biting the inside of his cheek at the sound of heeled boots licking on the marble floors following him.

‘You’ve ‘chosen your path’? Oh darling, are you gay?! I should have realised, it all seems so obvious now. Oh this is wonderful. We’ll simply find a polite young woman who understand the situation, pureblood of course, and you can be married right away! Why didn’t you tell me?’

Severus’ eyes grew round and his nostrils flared as he struggled for breath. He stared incredulously at the alien woman in front of him who was practically clapping her hands and drooling with delight and punched the nearest section of wall. Luckily it was a plastered inset and not stone or wood paneling. His fist smashed the porcelain vase standing in front before being buried in the wall cavity, raining lilies over the small table and surrounding floor. He walked as quickly as he could back to the Reception Parlor, uncaring of the blood that dripped from his torn knuckles to the floor and entered the Floo system again, demanding to be taken to the ‘Slytherin Office, Hogwarts’ and muttering the entry password under his breath to make sure he could get out the other end. As soon as he arrived he ran for his chambers, locking the bathroom door behind him and retching violently. What he wouldn’t give to simply be able to apparate, splinching his liver couldn’t possibly be as bad as travelling by Floo. He stripped his robes off hastily, worried they were contaminated from his visit and subsequent trip home. He climbed into the old bathtub and sat down cross-legged directly under the spray of the showerhead. A sudden wave of despair and melancholy flooded over him and he hung his head and simply sat and watched as blood slowly dripped from fingfingers and was swirled away down the plughole.


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A/N woah long chapter! Longer then the others at any rate :) Let me know what you think, please! Even if you hate it or want to point out any typos. I still haven\'t found a beta and and I\'m sure I miss these things every so often. I\'m trying though, and feedback is appreciated muchly!