A Harvest Gift for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
torino10154
Oct. 6th, 2008 11:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
drachenminaTitle: Harvest Gifts
Author:drachenmina
Word Count: 1,400
Rating: G
Characters: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Summary: Non-magic AU. House-sitting for his mother, Severus is disturbed by a young man bearing gifts.
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 Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended
Huge thanks for the beta-read are due to my darlinggin_tonic
AN: For the wonderfultorino10154. As I mentioned to you last week, my Snarry muse has been in a frankly bizarre mood of late, but I flatter myself that on the third attempt I’ve managed to produce something neither unduly depressing nor macabre…
Hope you enjoy! *hugs*
“Yes?” Severus glared suspiciously at the disgracefully scruffy young man loitering on his doorstep clutching a battered cardboard box.
The boy gazed suspiciously back. “Well, you don’t look like old Mrs Snape.” He peered at Severus myopically through owlish spectacles for a moment, taking in the angular face, the thin lips, the imposing proboscis. “Although, come to think of it…”
“I am Severus Snape. Eileen Snape is my mother,” Severus snapped, to put an end to this infernal scrutiny. “Who the hell are you?”
The boy beamed inexplicably. “Oh, I’m Harry,” he pronounced cheerfully as if that made everything clear. At Severus’ narrowed eyes, he continued hurriedly, “Harry Potter. Otherwise known as Eileen’s toyboy, although not where she can hear you, obviously.”
“I beg your pardon?” Severus asked in his iciest tones.
The boy carried on grinning inanely, oblivious to the loathing emanating from Severus’ every pore. “Oh, that’s just a joke. I’ve been helping out at the local church – visiting the old folks, that sort of stuff – and me and your mum sort of hit it off. She was right about your accent, by the way.”
“What?”
“She said it went missing somewhere around Watford Gap and you never managed to find it again.”
“Well, you hardly speak like a local!” Severus countered defensively.
“Well, go to t’ foot of our stairs,” the youth enunciated carefully, in an appalling parody of a Lancashire accent. Severus stared. “Nope, I’m from Surrey. I just came up here to have a look at the place when I left school, and sort of stayed. My mum was from round here,” he explained. He brightened. “Hey, you might have known her. Although, she’d have been, what,” he looked at Severus thoughtfully, “about ten years younger than you, so maybe not. Lily Evans, though.”
Severus glared at him. “We were in the same class at school!”
“Wow! Really? S’pose it’s true what your mum always says, then – all that hanging around in labs’ll put years on you. No offence, obviously.” He beamed again, then frowned suddenly. “So where is she, then? Mrs Snape, I mean,” he added redundantly. “I hope she’s not ill or something?”
About to snap at the boy for his impertinent questioning, Severus was held back by the look of genuine concern in his eyes. “She is in Cyprus. As I am presently on sabbatical from the university, she co-opted me here to house-sit.” His tone made plain what he thought of that arrangement, although naturally it was one he would never have dared use to his mother.
“Yeah?” the boy glanced round at the cracked walls, the windows with peeling paint on the sills. “S’pose she’s got a point. You wouldn’t want anyone breaking in and making a mess of the place.” Severus bristled, although the boy’s tone was infuriatingly free of sarcasm. “Surprised she didn’t mention it, though – I only saw her last week. Spur of the moment thing, was it?”
“Hardly. She informed me of her plans over six months ago,” Severus told him, feeling he had scored a significant victory.
“Yeah? Well, good for her,” the boy replied, seemingly unruffled. “I always told her getting away for a bit of sunshine’d do her good.” He looked down at the box he carried, which was full of groceries. “Um, would you like these anyway? I mean, we’ve been making up boxes for all the old people in the village – after Harvest Festival, you know? But to be honest we’ve got more than we need, and you’re welcome to them.”
Severus sighed. “You may bring them in.” At least it might save him a trip to the local Morrisons. He stood aside and let the boy pass him in the narrow hallway, the tips of his unruly hair almost brushing Severus’ nose as he passed. The box was dumped unceremoniously on the kitchen table, and the boy beamed up at Severus from beneath a ragged fringe that Severus was sorely tempted to take a pair of scissors to. “Great! That’s my last stop for today.”
No wonder he’d been so keen for Severus to take in the parcel.
“Any chance of a cuppa?” the impudent brat continued. “I’ll make it – I know where everything is.” He proceeded to make free of Severus’ mother’s kitchen in a frankly unnerving manner, even unearthing a well-hidden tin of chocolate biscuits and offering one to Severus, who thought about refusing on principle, but then relented. A chocolate hobnob, after all, was a chocolate hobnob.
“So what’s it like living at a university, then?” the boy asked him around a mouthful of crumbs.
Severus sneered. “Not the academic type, then, Potter?”
The boy shrugged. “Nah. Thick as two short planks, me.” It was said carelessly enough, but Severus thought he discerned a note of regret.
“No doubt you were merely one of those fools who spent his time at school in asinine plots to get out of doing any actual work, heedless of the fact that this was your one chance to learn something that might enable you to better yourself.”
Potter gave a crooked smile. “They weren’t all that big on you learning stuff at the school I went to, to be honest.” He looked up, and Severus was taken aback by the look of pain in his eyes. “Though I could pick your locks in three seconds flat and still have time to nick your car, if I put my mind to it.”
Ah. One of that sort of school. “Tell me, Potter, does the vicar realise that he is sending out a juvenile delinquent to prey upon the most vulnerable of his parishioners?”
“The Rev’s a good bloke. Believes in second chances,” the boy told him, looking Severus squarely in the eye with a disturbingly clear emerald gaze. Just as Lily used to, he recalled. “You believe in second chances, Mr Snape?” Suddenly he grinned. “Or is your good opinion, once lost, gone forever?”
Severus almost laughed at the incongruity of it all. “I confess I don’t know what is more absurd – the idea of you comparing me to Mr Darcy, or the thought of you reading Jane Austen in the first place.”
Those eyes gleamed at him from behind the heavy frames. “Fair cop, guv. I just watched it on the telly. Good though, wasn’t it?” The crooked smile was back, but this time it held a gleam of amusement. “Specially that bit where he dived in the lake.”
Severus raised an eyebrow. “Fishing, Mr Potter?”
The boy looked innocent. “Nah, he just went for a swim, didn’t he?” He leaned back in his chair, holding his cooling mug of tea with both hands. “Your mum told me she wasn’t expecting any grandkids. I can put two and two together.”
Severus regarded the youth thoughtfully. Knowing his mother, she had fully intended Potter to perform this elementary feat of arithmetic. She had long been telling Severus to find himself a nice young man and settle down and now, it appeared, she had got tired of waiting for him to make the effort. And intriguingly, the boy himself did not, if Severus was reading the signs right, seem to be averse to falling in with her machinations. “How long will you be in the area, Potter?” he asked.
“Harry. You can call me Harry, you know – your mum always does. And I’m easy – can stay as long as the vicar’ll let me kip in his spare room. Or, you know, if I find somewhere else to stay. How long’s your mum away for?”
“A month.”
“Blimey – she win the lottery or something?”
Severus didn’t answer. In fact he had paid for her holiday. An academic salary might be a pittance, but as he rarely spent anything except on food and books, it had been affordable. A month. A lot might happen in that time, after all. And afterwards the boy would, of course, be free to move on wherever he chose. To, perhaps, a southern university town, should he have reason to do so? Severus came to a decision. “Easy, are you, Harry?” he asked, with a curve of one eyebrow and just a suspicion of a smile.
“Not really. But, it sort of depends who’s asking,” the boy responded with a look of surprise and, yes, pleasure.
“And if I were asking?” Severus was sure of himself now.
The boy smiled, suddenly seeming shy, and much younger. “Still not easy. But it might be worth making the effort.”
Fin.
Author:
drachenminaWord Count: 1,400
Rating: G
Characters: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Summary: Non-magic AU. House-sitting for his mother, Severus is disturbed by a young man bearing gifts.
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 Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended
Huge thanks for the beta-read are due to my darling
gin_tonicAN: For the wonderful
torino10154. As I mentioned to you last week, my Snarry muse has been in a frankly bizarre mood of late, but I flatter myself that on the third attempt I’ve managed to produce something neither unduly depressing nor macabre…Hope you enjoy! *hugs*
“Yes?” Severus glared suspiciously at the disgracefully scruffy young man loitering on his doorstep clutching a battered cardboard box.
The boy gazed suspiciously back. “Well, you don’t look like old Mrs Snape.” He peered at Severus myopically through owlish spectacles for a moment, taking in the angular face, the thin lips, the imposing proboscis. “Although, come to think of it…”
“I am Severus Snape. Eileen Snape is my mother,” Severus snapped, to put an end to this infernal scrutiny. “Who the hell are you?”
The boy beamed inexplicably. “Oh, I’m Harry,” he pronounced cheerfully as if that made everything clear. At Severus’ narrowed eyes, he continued hurriedly, “Harry Potter. Otherwise known as Eileen’s toyboy, although not where she can hear you, obviously.”
“I beg your pardon?” Severus asked in his iciest tones.
The boy carried on grinning inanely, oblivious to the loathing emanating from Severus’ every pore. “Oh, that’s just a joke. I’ve been helping out at the local church – visiting the old folks, that sort of stuff – and me and your mum sort of hit it off. She was right about your accent, by the way.”
“What?”
“She said it went missing somewhere around Watford Gap and you never managed to find it again.”
“Well, you hardly speak like a local!” Severus countered defensively.
“Well, go to t’ foot of our stairs,” the youth enunciated carefully, in an appalling parody of a Lancashire accent. Severus stared. “Nope, I’m from Surrey. I just came up here to have a look at the place when I left school, and sort of stayed. My mum was from round here,” he explained. He brightened. “Hey, you might have known her. Although, she’d have been, what,” he looked at Severus thoughtfully, “about ten years younger than you, so maybe not. Lily Evans, though.”
Severus glared at him. “We were in the same class at school!”
“Wow! Really? S’pose it’s true what your mum always says, then – all that hanging around in labs’ll put years on you. No offence, obviously.” He beamed again, then frowned suddenly. “So where is she, then? Mrs Snape, I mean,” he added redundantly. “I hope she’s not ill or something?”
About to snap at the boy for his impertinent questioning, Severus was held back by the look of genuine concern in his eyes. “She is in Cyprus. As I am presently on sabbatical from the university, she co-opted me here to house-sit.” His tone made plain what he thought of that arrangement, although naturally it was one he would never have dared use to his mother.
“Yeah?” the boy glanced round at the cracked walls, the windows with peeling paint on the sills. “S’pose she’s got a point. You wouldn’t want anyone breaking in and making a mess of the place.” Severus bristled, although the boy’s tone was infuriatingly free of sarcasm. “Surprised she didn’t mention it, though – I only saw her last week. Spur of the moment thing, was it?”
“Hardly. She informed me of her plans over six months ago,” Severus told him, feeling he had scored a significant victory.
“Yeah? Well, good for her,” the boy replied, seemingly unruffled. “I always told her getting away for a bit of sunshine’d do her good.” He looked down at the box he carried, which was full of groceries. “Um, would you like these anyway? I mean, we’ve been making up boxes for all the old people in the village – after Harvest Festival, you know? But to be honest we’ve got more than we need, and you’re welcome to them.”
Severus sighed. “You may bring them in.” At least it might save him a trip to the local Morrisons. He stood aside and let the boy pass him in the narrow hallway, the tips of his unruly hair almost brushing Severus’ nose as he passed. The box was dumped unceremoniously on the kitchen table, and the boy beamed up at Severus from beneath a ragged fringe that Severus was sorely tempted to take a pair of scissors to. “Great! That’s my last stop for today.”
No wonder he’d been so keen for Severus to take in the parcel.
“Any chance of a cuppa?” the impudent brat continued. “I’ll make it – I know where everything is.” He proceeded to make free of Severus’ mother’s kitchen in a frankly unnerving manner, even unearthing a well-hidden tin of chocolate biscuits and offering one to Severus, who thought about refusing on principle, but then relented. A chocolate hobnob, after all, was a chocolate hobnob.
“So what’s it like living at a university, then?” the boy asked him around a mouthful of crumbs.
Severus sneered. “Not the academic type, then, Potter?”
The boy shrugged. “Nah. Thick as two short planks, me.” It was said carelessly enough, but Severus thought he discerned a note of regret.
“No doubt you were merely one of those fools who spent his time at school in asinine plots to get out of doing any actual work, heedless of the fact that this was your one chance to learn something that might enable you to better yourself.”
Potter gave a crooked smile. “They weren’t all that big on you learning stuff at the school I went to, to be honest.” He looked up, and Severus was taken aback by the look of pain in his eyes. “Though I could pick your locks in three seconds flat and still have time to nick your car, if I put my mind to it.”
Ah. One of that sort of school. “Tell me, Potter, does the vicar realise that he is sending out a juvenile delinquent to prey upon the most vulnerable of his parishioners?”
“The Rev’s a good bloke. Believes in second chances,” the boy told him, looking Severus squarely in the eye with a disturbingly clear emerald gaze. Just as Lily used to, he recalled. “You believe in second chances, Mr Snape?” Suddenly he grinned. “Or is your good opinion, once lost, gone forever?”
Severus almost laughed at the incongruity of it all. “I confess I don’t know what is more absurd – the idea of you comparing me to Mr Darcy, or the thought of you reading Jane Austen in the first place.”
Those eyes gleamed at him from behind the heavy frames. “Fair cop, guv. I just watched it on the telly. Good though, wasn’t it?” The crooked smile was back, but this time it held a gleam of amusement. “Specially that bit where he dived in the lake.”
Severus raised an eyebrow. “Fishing, Mr Potter?”
The boy looked innocent. “Nah, he just went for a swim, didn’t he?” He leaned back in his chair, holding his cooling mug of tea with both hands. “Your mum told me she wasn’t expecting any grandkids. I can put two and two together.”
Severus regarded the youth thoughtfully. Knowing his mother, she had fully intended Potter to perform this elementary feat of arithmetic. She had long been telling Severus to find himself a nice young man and settle down and now, it appeared, she had got tired of waiting for him to make the effort. And intriguingly, the boy himself did not, if Severus was reading the signs right, seem to be averse to falling in with her machinations. “How long will you be in the area, Potter?” he asked.
“Harry. You can call me Harry, you know – your mum always does. And I’m easy – can stay as long as the vicar’ll let me kip in his spare room. Or, you know, if I find somewhere else to stay. How long’s your mum away for?”
“A month.”
“Blimey – she win the lottery or something?”
Severus didn’t answer. In fact he had paid for her holiday. An academic salary might be a pittance, but as he rarely spent anything except on food and books, it had been affordable. A month. A lot might happen in that time, after all. And afterwards the boy would, of course, be free to move on wherever he chose. To, perhaps, a southern university town, should he have reason to do so? Severus came to a decision. “Easy, are you, Harry?” he asked, with a curve of one eyebrow and just a suspicion of a smile.
“Not really. But, it sort of depends who’s asking,” the boy responded with a look of surprise and, yes, pleasure.
“And if I were asking?” Severus was sure of himself now.
The boy smiled, suddenly seeming shy, and much younger. “Still not easy. But it might be worth making the effort.”
Fin.
