capeandcowllogs | Better stay home, and do as your told

Entry tags:

Better stay home, and do as your told

WHO: Severus Snape and those poor sods that come over because it's January 9th, which is apparently significant for some people.
WHERE: Snape's townhouse (or around town, etc)
WHEN: January 9th
WARNINGS: Snape is his own warning.
SUMMARY: Snape has had his first post-death birthday. This is pretty big.
FORMAT: WORDS

He was thirty-nine.

Some part of him argued he had been dead, by this years count, a good fifteen years now. would in fact be be in his fifties, had he truly lived to see the year 2012 and his birthdays that follow. But he hadn't. He'd come to the City instead. This did not upset him -- being a person as opposed to a corpse sat well enough with him. So he left his home for part of the day, and went about doing things. It was strange to attempt to reconnect with normal things that normal people who did not have a war breathing down their necks did.

(He does not know how to feel about Tom right now; the war wasn't breathing down his neck, but it was certainly hiding behind a corner waiting to do something mad. It was not a good reminder. Not good thoughts for a birthday.)

But by the end of the day he was home again. A glass of cognac, a record on the player and dinner on the stove. It would be a good night. Even if no one came by -- though he suspected some would, and some had come by earlier -- he was certain it was the nicest birthday he'd had in years.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She paid enough attention to all the dates she had listed on her calendar to know that today was Severus Snape's birthday. She'd brought a card (Well, at least you'll always be younger than me) and a bottle of whisky that was of decent age, but she wasn't expecting to stay long.

It was just -- something she felt she had to do. Knocking on the door, she took a breath in and reminded herself that talking about personal matters that didn't concern Snape wasn't going to be on the agenda for today.

Strange, Snape always wants to know one's personal matters. Especially if they're juicy. A spy is always a spy, after all.

He comes down to his door and opens it, giving Andromeda the mildest of smiles, there and gone again.

"I should have expected. Come in, Andromeda."

"You really should have." She hasn't actually been here in quite some time, so she'll just be -- checking for new things for a moment.

She sets the gifts down on the nearest flat surface and flashes him a smile of her own. "Doing well, I trust. Not being dead and all."

Lead her into the apartment proper, to where she can settle her things. "Tea, then? The New Year treating you well?"

He goes about setting up a kettle, regardless. May as well enjoy a cup while she's here.

"Well enough. The holidays went uneventfully as far as I know, so there's that."

She doesn't protest to the settling or the kettle, since a cuppa never goes amiss. "Have you been getting out more often?" She's just -- curious, not necessarily judgmental. Not this time, at least.

There is a pause and a glance back. Well, that was a puzzling question. Or perhaps not, knowing Andromeda. She was likely just concerned for him, wasn't she? No matter. There was little exciting to report, and he liked it that way.

"Have you?" he asked, deflecting her question with one of his own. "Beyond coming to visit school mates, I should clarify."

"I have, actually. I've even managed to go outdoors for occasions other than work," she countered with a raised eyebrow, "But you haven't answered my question."

He could try and deflect her all he liked, but it wasn't going to work.

"I leave the house on occasion," Snape replied smoothly, and not untruthfully. "I spent a good part of the day outside today, if you must, mother."

Oh, Andromeda. Mothering everyone ever, since the dawn of time.

"Oh, I must. You know I'd scarcely have much to do with myself otherwise." She laughed, shaking her head.

"I just thought I'd pop by to let you know I'm still around, since that seems to be something up for question with people lately."

And yes, okay, to make sure he was getting outside and taking his vitamins.

"I am pleased to know you are still with us," he admit. He has few friends - admittedly, Lupin wasn't his friend but he could be counted on to be sensible.

"And yourself?" he asks. "Beyond visits, what keeps you busy?"

"Aside from work? Well ... dating, for one thing. Not that Nymphadora knows a thing about that."

So much for not discussing her personal life. At least she isn't going into details.

Watch Snape's brows inch right up his head. Well than.

"I imagine Nymphadora will have-- difficultly," he says. After all, Ted Tonks was alive when she was last home. Mother moving on? Might be difficult.

"I'm not going to bother her about it unless anything becomes of it," she assures him with a furrow of her brows.

No reason to get her riled up if it isn't going to work out with anyone.

(no subject)

onewrongword - 2012-01-12 23:18 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

andromynous - 2012-01-12 23:25 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

onewrongword - 2012-01-12 23:28 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

andromynous - 2012-01-12 23:34 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

onewrongword - 2012-01-13 22:46 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

andromynous - 2012-01-14 05:09 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

onewrongword - 2012-01-14 23:56 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

andromynous - 2012-01-15 03:41 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

onewrongword - 2012-01-15 19:47 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

andromynous - 2012-01-15 19:57 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

onewrongword - 2012-01-15 21:04 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

andromynous - 2012-01-15 21:07 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

onewrongword - 2012-01-16 06:43 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

andromynous - 2012-01-16 06:45 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

onewrongword - 2012-01-17 02:53 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

andromynous - 2012-01-17 02:55 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

onewrongword - 2012-01-17 04:52 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

andromynous - 2012-01-17 04:55 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

onewrongword - 2012-01-17 04:57 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

andromynous - 2012-01-17 04:59 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

onewrongword - 2012-01-17 21:37 (UTC) - Expand

Naturally, Draco knew it was Snape's birthday. Not that the professor was a great celebrator of his birthday back home, but seeing as who he was to the Malfoy clan a polite gift or two was sent out by owl.

Draco wasn't sure what one gave a dead man for a birthday he should not truly be reaching, but fortunately he had one fun and furry item left in his flat that he needed to be rid of--er, could generously give away.

He began to evening with a knock on a door, a wrapped box with carefully drilled holes in it floating beside him.

Snape came down from his condo above the shop to-- find Draco on his doorstep. Well, that was interesting. "Come in," he replied, and eyed the box.

The box had holes.

This did not bode well.

Still, he lead the boy up stairs, and said, "Dare I ask what you have brought into my home in a box that needs holes?"

He stepped in with a small nod of thanks for letting him into his home, the box following obediently. He followed him up into the home proper, answer with a bit of a cheeky drawl, "Well, sir, in case you were not aware, I believe it's your birthday this day."

"It is. I am that much closer to forty," he replied, arching a brow. "Are you keeping up with the Malfoy family tradition of bringing a small token?"

God knows they weren't small, sometimes. But that was the nature of Malfoy affection. You never knew when they were going to gift you something grand one year to make a point, and then send you a bottle of wine another year ot make sure you didn't get to comfortable with the idea of then spending any money on you.

He opened his mouth to remark "At least you're getting there" but wisely managed to cut himself off. "That I am, sir," he responded, moving to sit on the open sofa, draping on the corner of the sofa as if he belonged there. But, really, he belonged everywhere. If this was a more formal meeting he would sit more like a little gentleman, but this was a social call. He at least didn't drape as much as usual out of respect. "Not having a do, I take it?"

There is a brow arch-- as if Snape caught what almost came out of his mouth-- but simply does not fuss. No need.

"Why would I?" he asks simply. "At home unless your father intervened I had dinner, enjoyed a book and a glass of wine and the world went on as normal." And in less than two weeks from his own birthday, he would have grieved as Lily had a birthday she wouldn't see.

He's-- not sure to handle that here. Probably best to not do anything.

"You've brought a kitten, aren't you?" He knows Draco was attempting to rid himself of them, after all. "Let the bloody thing out of the box, then."

He frowned, fun immediately ruined. Shrugging lightly, he answered, "Perhaps, but I assure I'm not handing it over to you just to be rid of it. If I was doing that I would have ditched the box lot of them in an alleyway." He wove his wand, the paper first unwrapping itself then the box top sliding away.

A second or two passed, then a precious little kitten head popped up over the edge, meowing loudly in confusion. She wasn't as tiny as initially seen in Draco's last network post, but still completely adorable.

Not that Draco imagined Snape cared about such a thing.

"She's very well behaved, I thought she would suit you."

"You'd do no such thing," Snape said sharply that brooked no argument. But all the same he came over to look both the boy-- and his box-- over.

"Which one is this?" he asked. Gingerly, he reached for the thing-- but the care her took belied the look on his face. He didn't treat the kitten poorly, even if he looked at her oddly. His hands were careful, and gave support-- a place for her to curl against his chest. "I didn't keep track of your feline escapades."

"And so I didn't," he replied with a wry half-smile, glad at least one person believed he wouldn't be so cruel and wasn't surprised by it.

"Her name is Rockselena," he stood from the sofa, tucking hands in his pockets as he watched how oddly caring the other man was being with the animal. Perhaps his irritation at children was reserved only for humans--that or he sensed the kitten could be a fine Slytherin. "She gets rambunctious sometimes, but thankfully didn't attack my ankles like some of the others."

There is a strange dividing line between children and animals that some people walk.

A person can be cruel to a child because they know in their heart of hearts, the child is a person who can be cruel back. They know that all children are, in their blackest moments, little ravenous hate filled things just waiting to be unleashed, Lord of the Flies style, upon a populace.

There is no need to hate the cat for being a cat. It is what it is, with no pretense otherwise. You can, however, hate a child for not living up to your expectations, however impossibly high you may set them. No one said it was fair. But it is brutally logical in it's unfairness, at least. Snape had a rationalization for everything, including what he gave his sparse kindness to.

So the small cat, which has never done any wrong and cannot do wrong, because it is not smart enough to conceive of do wrong gains something no child will ever gain from Snape: the benefit of the doubt. Also, ear scritchs.

"You've trained her, then? Food, water, the bloody box and all?" He can't trust the boy to have handled the vet, that costs a good amount of coin and he's not sure Draco's weaseled his way into a good place for that just yet. But he can handle that. God knows he doesn't want more kittens about his ankles.

Draco can't be glad since he didn't know what all just occurred in that narration, but he could he WOULD be glad he didn't say that out loud. He was spared a lecture, even if he could understand that point of view to a point.

"Yes, yes, of course," he flapped one hand dismissively, "part of the whole birthday package." He began to wander, glancing about the home, seeking out if Snape had recently accrued anything new and interesting. The professor often had materials in his office and classroom the blond found interest in.

Snape's home remains sparse - there are the occasional object, but there's the definite sense that anything of real value is -- likely elsewhree. Still, the bookshelves are filling up (as Snape spends his disposable income in all of two places -- books and potion work) and remains a remarkably comfortable space considering how austerely the man presents himself.

The cat is set down, but watched. She can explore. This is home now.

"Good. I'd see if she becomes a mouser, but the lab will have to be offlimits. The plant might find her a tempting edible."