Severus Blinked With A ‘who, Me?’ Look On Their Face. ‘ I’m Sure I Don’t Know What You’re

asphodelroot​:

Lily’s first stop after the first time she’d lost Remus in the two seconds she’d turned her back on him had been the bar, where she’d spent a frustrating ten minutes talking the bartender through making a Shirley Temple—okay maybe four of those had been spent convincing them she really did need four cherries; grenadine and ginger ale wasn’t a hard concept for anyone to grasp. The name seemed to be the main sticking point, because the ‘Cherry-Bomb Fizz’ the bartender had presented her with a flourish seemed no different from what little Shirley would sip on at all those fancy Hollywood parties. Save for perhaps the excessive amount of cherries.

Drink acquired and first cherry quickly dispatched, the second stop on Lily’s limited itinerary was this now habitual table, out of the way and with an excellent view of main room. The second cherry hadn’t survived long, and the third was tucked behind her teeth as she scoffed. “I don’t make bets against my own interests,” she said. Not to mention ones she was pretty sure had the odds severely stacked against her. “As long as it’s not Sirius, we’ll all survive.” They never needed a reenactment of that fight, but they especially didn’t need one on this particular night, with Remus ready to rip into anyone and everyone at the drop of the hat. Looking sidelong at her friend, Lily had no humor to her as she added, “Don’t encourage it.”

Severus plopped the last cherry into his mouth before it met its fast approaching demise. ‘ Hmm, doesn't that sound like a lie, ’ he said aloud, and pushed his plate of sausage rolls and fries between them to head off protests regarding his ill-concealed theft. He could think of a few occasions where Lily made bets directly against her own interests, with predictable consequences. But like the good friend he was he kept the details to himself.

Severus hummed, eyes flickered down the other side of the room to where Black was. Severus always knew where the other one was if they were in the same room. Old habits die hard, and six years of distance clearly weren’t enough to dull his caution. For good reason. He looked back at Lily and lifted both hands up in mock surrender. ‘ Alright, alright, I’ll resist. ’ He would try. The little part of him that urged to poke the hungry bear stomped about in protest. He brushed it aside. His tone turned serious. ‘ Did you talk to Lupin? What was he like? ’ It wasn’t a regular full moon coming up. They were all concerned for a repeat of last May, even with the adjustments Severus made to the Wolfsbane. ‘ He’s always agitated before a full moon. ’

@asphodelroot

Early January, 1984. Spinner’s End.

The air was damp with the January rain, pouring over the streets of Cokeworth in relentless sheets. The windows of the old house were shut and sealed, the four walls wrapped in wards and heating spells. Brick and mortar didn’t hold magic the way old stone or pine wood did, and so the cold seeped through the cracks as it pleased, slow and unbothered.

When Severus claimed this house after his father’s passing, he’d done so with a bitter heart. He resented needing anything from his father, in life or in death, but by then he was tired of the bare room above the apothecary and had grown wise to the need for distance, for a space beyond the prying eyes of his Master. Thus it came to be that only three years after his dignified march out of Spinner’s End, bursting with pride and purpose, Severus found himself slipping back into his old home, silent as shame, even as the only witness to this humiliation was himself.

And now Lily, too. Who once was witness to all that Severus is and was and could be, thus it seemed fitting that she’d reclaim that role upon re-entering his life.

He set the pot of lentil soup upon the wooden coffee table, along the plate of cut bread, and poured a bowl for himself and another for Lily. They’d spent all morning and afternoon in the library beneath the house, pouring over books and spells as the row of cauldrons sizzled and rolled over a low fire. The scent of hellebore and rosemary drifted up to the living room. The fire crackled on in the quiet room.

He sat on the couch beside her and brought his knees up to his chest. He shook pepper onto his bowl and then lifted the shaker to his friend. ‘ Pepper? Or salt? ’

elliotofvanity​:

Elliot should have come up with some excuse to, well, to excuse himself; should have retreated and sought Hestia or Wila or someone else who could give him more information; someone who could clarify that Severus Snape really was supposed to be here, with the Order, and why; someone else who had been here longer and could answer impossible questions like what the fucking fuck was Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy’s favorite fuck doing with the Order of the Phoenix? without making things too terribly awkward.

He should have mustered-up some polite nonsense phrase and left.

Instead, when the other wix demanded an explanation, Elliot blurted, “But you’re the Malfoys’ bed-toy,” too shocked to be anything but honest. “You are! Severus Snape. I’ve seen you at a dozen parties.“ He had seen Severus at school, too, but hadn’t paid the quiet, surly, solitary wix nearly as much attention as he had when seeing them waltzed around a ballroom on Lucius Malfoy’s elegant arm, or ensconced in a corner seat with Narcissa giggling gracefully in their ear, or being swept upstairs at the end of the evening by one or both of the fashionable blondes. At school, Severus had been—in their own way—something of a wallflower, too. In the Malfoys’ hands, they had been impossible not to notice.

To see them now…here…none of it made sense. “What are you doing here?”

The boy could’ve said ‘the Dark Lord sent me to kill you’ and it would’ve shocked Severus less. 

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. Bed-toy. He covered his face with his hand to hide his laughter but it was too late. ‘ Well aren’t you bold, ’ said Severus, the corners of his lips stretched in a mischievous smirk. Severus was attentive towards the rumors that sprang in his wake, specifically the ones that followed his appearances with Lucius or Narcissa (or both) and it was not entirely for pragmatic reasons that he did so. After all, the tales that followed him at every society event wouldn’t be half as tall without his own delighted efforts. And the Malfoys’ bed-toy was not only the least offensive but also the least inaccurate. 

People just didn’t usually say it to his face.

He stepped towards the boy, eyes gleaming with interest. ‘ Elliot Vanity, ’ said Severus, stopping right before him, sinking into his mind like a wide net onto dense water. Thoughts jumped to his hands like fish, eager to be caught. ‘ That’s who you are. The newest recruit. ’ He didn’t know what they were thinking, bringing in a pureblood society brat into the fold — didn’t they have enough of those lying about already? — but that was a discussion for later. He shoved the inventory paper at the boy’s chest. ‘ Here’s your first assignment: restock the cabinets, ’ Severus folded his arms and looked at Vanity expectantly. ‘ If you drop one, you’ll get kicked out of the Order. ’ He turned around and walked back towards his satchel of brews. He couldn’t help adding, with a flippant tone, ‘ and just so you know, they’re as much mine as I am theirs. ’ The bedroom was an equal opportunity playground.

Severus had spent the last three days brewing batches of dittany and dreamless sleep as well as a number of healing potions to restock the Order’s supply after the disastrous mission last week. He spent his afternoons and some mornings making his way through his less than scrupulous social circles — decidedly more entertaining and, for this particular purpose, useful — sniffing out whatever intel he can find about the whereabouts and activities of his masked friends.

He woke up this morning with instructions to meet the Dark Lord in the evening. Severus couldn’t know if it was for their private lessons, a mission, or something else entirely. He was simply grateful for the early notice. It gave him time to rearrange his schedule and mentally prepare himself. And so here he was, late in the morning stacking vials into the infirmary cupboards when the doors swung open. He looked up from the inventory list in his hand to see a new face standing in the doorway, mouth agape, features twisted into a look of profound shock and paralysis. Severus reached into his pocket for his wand but didn’t take it out. He gave the intruder a moment to gather his wits about him, but the moment dragged on, and it was becoming really quite uncomfortable being on the receiving end of such a face.

‘ What. ’

The Peacock’s Pet

LOCATION: Prewett House DATE: June 27th, 1984 @wrongdeor

Elliot opened the door to the kitchen, grimaced, and closed it. He had been trying to find the infirmary (not because he was hurt, but simply as an exercise in navigation), but despite his fervent attempt to memorize the layout of the old Prewett House when Hestia had taken him on the tour yesterday, he couldn’t seem to get it straight in his head now. It was discouraging—or no, he told himself, it wasn’t discouraging, because he refused to let himself be discouraged. It was just…not encouraging. That was all. There was quite a wide gap between encouraged and discouraged, and he was simply neither.

He was still getting his feet under himself, he told himself, and that was fine. That was perfectly expected, perfectly natural. There was a lot to learn, after all, about the Order of the Phoenix. About being part of the Order of the Phoenix. He had only been an official member for two days—a little less than one-and-a-half, really, if you went by the slanting old grandfather clock slumped in the corner—so of course he was still getting his feet under himself. That was nothing to be ashamed of. That was perfectly natural.

None of that stopped him from feeling like he’d fallen right off those feet and into some sort of bizarre dreamscape when he opened the next door down the hallway and saw Severus Snape sitting inside. Elliot’s jaw dropped and absolutely no sound came out of his mouth as he stared—no, gaped—at the other wix in abject stupefaction. He stood in the open doorway for several seconds without moving, without even remembering to breathe, his brain scrabbling desperately as it tried to process what he was seeing.

What in the name of Merlin’s hairiest toes was Lucius and Narcissa Malfoys’ favorite side-piece doing in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix!?

Let’s switch, said Rosier, and handed him a diagnostics paper and rattled off a list of instructions. Severus looked at the bed and rocked back on his heels, suddenly, like taking a physical blow. He’d fallen from a tree once, when he was young, twenty feet down and it knocked all the air from his lungs. The memory resurfaced unprompted, an echo of this moment, and he tried to take a deep breath. Then he took one step, two steps, and stood by Lily’s bedside.

His hand reached out carefully to touch her wrist, felt the faint pulse in her veins, and watched the air expand and expel from her lungs. For what felt like eternity, Severus stood like this, still as a statue. Waiting for signs she was getting worse. Bruised lungs. Internal bleeding. Broken collarbone. The list of diagnostics went on an endless loop in his mind —

Potter burst into the infirmary, a whirlwind of self important rage and childish animosity. Severus was yanked away by his bloody collar, and it was a testament to his current state of mind that it took him a moment to return to the present. To feel the anger light a fire in his gut. To think, who the fuck do you think you are?! Before he grabbed the front of Potter’s robes and slammed him against the wall of the infirmary, hard enough to rattle the shelves. ‘ Be quiet, ’ Severus said, a soft, quiet tone that belied the violence simmering underneath. ‘ Or get out. This is an infirmary, you fucking delinquent. Who do you think you are? ’

@healerrosier 

Date: June 24th, 1984, just after leaving the Entry Room Location: The Prewett Estate, infirmary  @wrongdeor & @healerrosier

James moved quickly from his argument - possible argument? - with Jones down the corridor to the infirmary. Lily, fuck, Lily. She could be dead. She could be dying. He couldn’t fucking believe that he’d let her end them when he knew it might end up like this between them and they’d be left with nothing but tainted memories. He could’ve had four more months with her. Damn it, Lily.

He was angry and tired and so, so fucking terrified. But he was also keeping his cool, Hestia’s words about how blowing up wouldn’t help him - how Evan wouldn’t let him stay - ringing through his ears. And, by the time he made it to the infirmary, he was almost calm. Almost ready to sit by her bedside and stay out of Rosier’s way.

Until - 

Fucking Severus Snape. As though he was the dragon he’d conjured earlier that morning, James roared with life, a sudden energy renewed in him. Because Snape was standing over Lily’s bedside. Snape was watching her, making sure she had an even rise and fall of her chest. “You!” James snarled, that simmering rage rearing it’s ugly head as he moved over to Severus and yanked on the collar of his shirt, pulling him back, away from Lily. “Get the fuck away from her!”

my father had the kind of anger all fathers do. it lingers your whole life

the unabridged journals of sylvia plath // audre lorde // sense8 “i can’t leave her” // halsey, i would leave me if i could // @ijaazat // fantastic bastards, death spells // catherine lacey

The crack of apparition didn’t come. The seconds marched on: 9, 8, 7 —- Severus turned towards his field partner. Moody was covered in blood and slinging hexes at the enemy, with no signs of slowing down or getting the fuck out of here like he was supposed to — was he delirious? Did he hear a word Severus said? — 4, 3, 2 —-

The translucent dome shivered against the night sky. Severus clapped a hand over Moody’s shoulder, and apparated to the first place he could think of.

The damp air of the forest slid away, a shift of colors and sound. In a blink, they were in the still and dry air of Spinner’s End, where the wards were thick and hostile and the smell of dry wood and hellebore filled their lungs. The fireplace crackled on beneath the sudden silence, unstartled.

Of course, Severus thought with deep bitterness. Of all the places that could spring to mind in a moment of danger it was this. Home.

Still. He supposed it was lucky they sprang into the living room rather than the single bedroom upstairs where he hid when he was little. This was uncomfortable enough as it was. ‘ Don’t get comfortable, ’ he barked at his companion, ‘ We’re leaving. ’ He began his march towards the entrance hall, where the wards wouldn’t rip Moody’s flesh from his bones upon apparating out for daring to intrude. Severus had no intention of performing another Side-Along again, he was rather annoyed with Moody for not apparating out himself the moment he was told to.

wrongdeor​:

The trip through the private woods was long and tedious, and completely avoidable had Severus been able to replenish his supply of portkeys in time. He was not very athletic — or at all, really — and felt every unnecessary step they took down the woods with deep frustration and exhaustion. Neither of which he showed to his partner, whom he was sure kept one eye on the enemy and one on Severus himself. This mission was a test, and everything he did was, as always, under scrutiny.

A twig snapped. Severus swiveled around on high alert towards the source of the noise, wand at the ready — the weight of hands on his back and shoulder, a twist of fabric — The ground was swept from beneath his feet. Severus blinked. He only had time to be confused before he slammed against the ground a few yards away with a heavy THUD.

He got back up on his feet cursing and huffing and considerably more annoyed than he was only a moment ago. ‘ Fuck off! You bloody brick! ’ He shouted back at the buffoon that threw him across the fucking field, but he was half turned towards the broken arch, wand in motion, spells at the ready. Wards meant to keep people in were only a hair’s breadth away from keeping people out. Severus reached into the edge, plucked its strings, and cast a spell, the incantation rolling off his tongue like water. A long string of latin whispered in gentle, coaxing tones, and the edge of the safety clearing shimmered and expanded it’s scope until it covered both himself and the Auror a few yards behind. It would keep their enemies outside of the dome. But more importantly, Severus and Moody can apparate out.

‘ NOW, ’ shouted Severus over his shoulder. ‘ We have thirteen seconds! ’ Moody had to apparate first, if Severus left the spell would break and the safety border would snap right back into shape.

@wrongdeor​

Alastor probably should have been concerned about how easily Severus was thrown halfway across the field. At the back of his mind, perhaps he was. The forefront, however, was focused on the shadowed figures of who he figured were Goyle and a handful of his cronies coming to see them off. Such sweethearts, they were. 

He waited a few beats, listening for Severus, before laughing to himself. A bloody brick, indeed. He had been a beater, after all. It was rather similar, wasn’t it?, protecting your partner from an attack just as you would a teammate? Alastor took a strategic step backward, dodging another hex before tossing off a rather peevish Confrigo, hoping that it stuck and tossed bits of Goyle to Morgana’s tits and back. He continued to toss off attack after attack, keeping the Death Eaters at bay. 

Behind him, he could hear Severus muttering, working to undo the wards long enough to, hopefully, get them out sooner rather than later. He was bloody good at it, Alastor knew, which was why Snape had been brought with him. That, and it was a test, but the former was far more important now.

Snape’s shouted command, the detail of thirteen seconds, and Moody’s distinct knowledge that he was the one who needed to apparate first caused him to back almost completely toward his field partner. It also caused, for a split second, the shields to slip. In that moment, a curse ricocheted through, slamming half into Alastor’s chest and the forearms he’d raised in preparation. 

Stumbling backward with a grunt, Moody caught himself and threw a stupefy and a finger-removal hex one after the other, snarling against the burning wounds, blood dripping down his arms and his chest. 

Severus let Potter push his hand off, taking a step back himself and setting his collar back to rights. He glared at Rosier when he mentioned Lily, lips curling in pure disgust at being chastised using her name, before he looked away. He merely scoffed and rolled his eyes when Potter pushed past him, he resolved not to be provoked into another physical altercation, once had already been enough.

Then Potter rounded on him. Looking for someone to blame, to fight, to lash out on. Severus stepped into the role like it was made for him.

He turned to Evan and gave him a commiserating look, as if to say, ‘Can you believe this guy?’ And turned back to Potter like a shark that scented blood. ‘ Ah, that still bothers you, doesn’t it? That I was welcomed into the fold and yet you still struggle to find your place again months after your miraculous return to your people! But you can’t possibly be welcomed when all you’ve done is pick fights and throw temper tantrums like a child, yes?’ Head cocked to the side, Severus approached his opponent in slow and measured steps, the corners of his lips lifted slightly in a sharp smirk. Repressed rage beat against his chest in a steady thrum. ‘ You’ve been nothing but a liability. You’ve done nothing but get in everyone’s way. You’re difficult, and you make things difficult. Everyone here is busy or injured, but we’ve all got to stop whatever we’re doing because James Bloody Potter has to process his feelings first! ’

@healerrosier

healerrosier​:

wrongdeor​:

Let’s switch, said Rosier, and handed him a diagnostics paper and rattled off a list of instructions. Severus looked at the bed and rocked back on his heels, suddenly, like taking a physical blow. He’d fallen from a tree once, when he was young, twenty feet down and it knocked all the air from his lungs. The memory resurfaced unprompted, an echo of this moment, and he tried to take a deep breath. Then he took one step, two steps, and stood by Lily’s bedside.

His hand reached out carefully to touch her wrist, felt the faint pulse in her veins, and watched the air expand and expel from her lungs. For what felt like eternity, Severus stood like this, still as a statue. Waiting for signs she was getting worse. Bruised lungs. Internal bleeding. Broken collarbone. The list of diagnostics went on an endless loop in his mind —

Potter burst into the infirmary, a whirlwind of self important rage and childish animosity. Severus was yanked away by his bloody collar, and it was a testament to his current state of mind that it took him a moment to return to the present. To feel the anger light a fire in his gut. To think, who the fuck do you think you are?! Before he grabbed the front of Potter’s robes and slammed him against the wall of the infirmary, hard enough to rattle the shelves. ‘ Be quiet, ’ Severus said, a soft, quiet tone that belied the violence simmering underneath. ‘ Or get out. This is an infirmary, you fucking delinquent. Who do you think you are? ’

@healerrosier 

____________

Things were going fine with the addition of Theo added into the mix of patients he had to deal with. Evan could manage his emotions well enough in front of Severus and unconscious Lily and Theo. That much was a given even though he was truly ready to find some place to go scream as a way of letting go of some of his pent up anxious energy and make it clear that his trying to think everything was fine was totally ineffective.

He hesitated when it came to casting the diagnostic spell, not used to seeing Theo look so fragile. One deep breath in an attempt at keeping the nervousness pooling in his stomach at bay then he cast it. A rather alarmed “What the fuck? That can’t be right,” escaped from his lips mere seconds before James arrived.

Evan released an exasperated sigh and raised an eyebrow at the two. Unexpectedly and unsurprisingly, a scuffle — he would label it as such for now — ensued and he was left throwing a look of disappointment at the two. Disappointed yet not bothered enough to reach for his wand and properly threaten to separate them. He wouldn’t admit it but the change of pace and something else to focus on was a welcome distraction. “Be careful of the shelves,” Evan winced. “Severus said it better than I would have, James. My usual reminder that I will not be healing either of you if it comes down to injuring yourselves over…” He trailed off a moment and made a face. “Whatever this is. This is hardly the behavior Theo or Lily would approve of given the circumstances.” @perniciouspotter

As quickly as James had gotten the upperhand, he lost it. Suddenly, Severus was on him, pulling him by the scruff of his shirt to be slammed against the wall. James let out a short, pained breath as the weight of it hit him, his wrist suddenly throbbing even though it hadn’t bothered him all day. He took Snape’s insult as a hypothetical question and shoved at their hand until he was pushing it aside.

“Get the fuck off me,” he said, not quiet as requested and quite hypocritically. James turned his head to look at Evan, narrowing his eyes. Of course they’d bloody well stick together. James almost retorted who gives a fuck about what Theo thinks? back to him, but that was a surefire way to get him kicked out, so he just righted himself and glared at both wix before stepping around Severus, shoving their shoulder on the way despite himself.

Hey, at least he was being quiet now? He stopped short a moment later as his eyes caught with Lily’s body in the infirmary cot. She looked bruised and body and fragile in a way he’d never seen before. His hands started shaking and he could feel that lump in his throat again. He swallowed, pushed it back - he would not fucking cry here, not with Snape standing a foot away - and let that now-familiar rage take over.

He rounded on Evan. “What the fuck are you just standing there for? Aren’t you going to help her?” He looked back at Severus. “And you - if you’re so fucking perfect, so- so capable that you can murder Muggleborns and then be fucking welcomed into the Order after, why don’t you do something!” She was going to die, she was going to die, oh fuck was she going to die?

@wrongdeor​

melancolialunar​:

Muggle London did have a false sense of security to it, but unlike Severus, Remus found himself leaning into it, these days. He was the type of man to let himself indulge in the fantasy, even if just for a moment – sure, retreating back to reality ended up being a bucket of cold water, but he was nothing if not used to this sort of muted agony in his life. Perhaps there was something of self-penitence there too, letting himself pretend he could ever be just another bloke sitting at a coffee shop thinking about what he was going to have for lunch, before returning to the ice cold brutality of being a werewolf stuck in the middle of a war.

He watched his companion sit down, making themselves the spitting image of something comfortable, though Remus could imagine that there was some level of tension under their skin. There was no way Severus would trust him so blindly – and they were right, this was the whole point of this encounter.

“That’s exactly why I asked you to meet me, anyway. I mean– old time’s sake.” He echoed, hand idly moving over to wrap around his cup of cappuccino, even though he had no intention of having a sip from it now. It was just something for his hands to do, something he could focus his eyes on, as if the back and forth swirl of the warm liquid required his attention more than the person in front of him.

He cleared his throat, silently cursed the pregnant pause hanging in the air, before turning his eyes back up to Severus in the hopes of not looking like a total coward when he spoke next. “I want to apologise.”

Severus blinked silently for a long and still moment, then hummed curiously, head tilted back. The crackle of anger flared instantly, like a hot sun burst into furious existence deep in their belly. Their jaw tensed with the effort to keep themself contained. ‘ How unexpected, ’ they finally said, when the ringing in their ears settled down some. They leaned forward and picked up a scone in a careless manner, hummed again, elbows on the table, one hand under their chin, thoughtful. ‘ How very surprising, ’ they repeated. A beat of silence. ‘ You think I’ll poison you? Yes? With the wolfsbane? ’ It wasn’t an unappealing prospect. But it was more trouble than it was worth. Severus had long since entertained and discarded the idea, so Lupin’s concerns weren’t completely misplaced, at least. ‘ If that was my intention, Lupin, and this was your attempt to stop me, it was a useless one. And about a decade late, besides. ’ 

They waved the hand with the scone about with a flourish. ‘ But go on now, ’ they said. Their manner was flippant, but their whole focus was now hefted upon Lupin, the heavy unnamed pressure of being pinned by the eyes of a predator. There was no right answer to what Severus was asking. They watched for something to lunge at, and whatever Lupin said next, they would find it. ‘ Don’t let me stop you! What’ve you got to say for yourself? ’

@asphodelroot

june 12th, 1984. the flaming dragon.

Severus didn’t initially plan on coming here at all — it’s a party, and the only way to get Severus to go to one was through the promise of information, opportunity, or a thoroughly studied campaign of coercion by the Malfoys. But he was here now, tucked into his usual table with a tall glass of butterbeer, eyes tracking the movements in the crowd with some interest. It was rare that a large number of the Order was in one place at once, and watching them move and blend together was it's own well of information.

Selwyn flitted through the room, wide smile, drinks sloshing about, but her eyes stayed alert. Jones was at the bar, taking shots with Potter. Lupin slipped through the crowd moments ago, still sour as a grape, and Severus had lost track of him. Severus leaned to the right. ‘ Nine sickles say Lupin’ll punch someone by the end of the night. ’