"Shut your mouth, Potter. You look even less intelligent than I remember you being," he snarled before he came to a halt just in front of the boy. "And what in the name of all that's good and holy did you think? Thought it was a good idea to come here, to interrupt a Christmas dinner and wave and jump like a lunatic in the middle of a street?"
"I, er, erm, I mean, er, I wanted to talk to Malfoy. Because of his father."
"And that couldn't wait until tomorrow? Christmas, Potter? Just because you don't have anyone to celebrate with or don't have any respect for holidays doesn't mean that others don't..."
"It's important," Potter interrupted rudely. "He was put under the Imperius and..."
"And again, arrogant little Potter doesn't think," Severus said, his hand grabbing the collar of Potter's Muggle coat and dragged him, with a yelp coming from the boy, to his house. Not that he wanted to Potter brat to come into his own home — but at this moment, he didn't seem to have much choice if he wanted to hear what had happened to Lucius Malfoy (whom he still — even if he was under an Imperius — owed a broken nose). And if he didn't want the entire Callaghan family to know that they were (or had been) Wizards, he would have to remove the Gryffindor from the street as well. Couldn't have him shouting things like Imperius around.
"Eeep," Potter yelped again when his feet weren't quick enough on the stairs and he stumbled into Severus's hall. He didn't care and let go off his collar just quick enough to see him tumbling to the ground. He sneered (it was so easy to do, really, when Potter was around) and stepped over the struggling boy and inside his living room. That was as much as Potter would get to see. Not his not yet renovated kitchen, and definitely not the rooms upstairs. Well, one room.
He had cleaned up the mess on the table that morning and so there was absolutely nothing in his living room that implied he was actually doing something. Not anything.
"Erm, Prof..."
Severus growled and glared at his former student as he sat down on one of his chairs.
"Er, right, I come from the Ministry. I mean, I went home and got changed because it might have been stupid to come here wearing robes but..."
"You obviously came to say something of importance," he drawled. "Say it."
"Do you know that Bellatrix Lestrange's wand was stored — in whole — at the Ministry?" Potter asked and Severus couldn't help the frown that appeared on his face. The Ministry at its most competent, once more. Who would have thought — not snapping wands of dead people. Was just the same — next they'd have an exhibition with those. He tried to press his face back into his former, so familiar mask, and arched only his eyebrows slightly.
"No," he said.
"They did," he nodded eagerly, and apparently forgot who he was talking to. He didn't dare to look at him though, looked around in the living room, stared at the white walls. "And someone took her wand and placed an Imperius Curse on Malfoy. And nobody knew who it was. They don't monitor closely enough..."
"Mister Potter, the failings of the Ministry of Magic," he sneered the word, "are no concern of mine..."
"That's why I wanted to talk to Draco. He should see his father. They are lifting the curse soon and he should be there. Kingsley Shacklebolt asks that he's there. I wanted to talk to him, not to you," he lifted his head and looked defiantly at him. In his eyes. Maybe Potter wasn't afraid of him using Legilimency and why should he be? He couldn't — and he wouldn't. But his face wasn't that difficult to read. He was puzzled at being invited (well, invited) in, surprised at how the living room looked like, stunned by the situation he had found him and Draco in. Confused at this entire scenario.
"I will let him know," he said coldly. He should have let Draco go but if he had, they would have probably brawled on the street and nothing would have ever been told. It was better this way, he suspected. Even if he had to endure Potter.
The boy swallowed and played with a bit of yarn that hung from his sleeve. "Do, erm, do you have an idea who could have done it? They think that this person might have also placed an Imperius on Hestia Jones and that she had been forced to put the Curse on you."
He stifled his sigh. What did it matter to him who was, in the end, behind that Curse? It did not matter anymore. He was effectively a Muggle and that had not been a bad thing, at least not only. What mattered more was that Eleanor had almost been killed. And if Lucius wasn't strong enough to resist an Imperius Curse, then he deserved a broken nose. But in the end, all they had to do was to be careful who they opened their doors to — and all the rest...he wasn't a part of this world anymore. It wasn't his job to find out things, to know things. Those days were over. And he was glad for it.
"No," he replied simply. "Is this all you came to say?"
Potter nodded. "Yes. But please tell Draco to contact me."
Severus sneered but didn't reply, only stood up from his chair and Potter, for once, understood the hint. He all but ran out of the house, a quick, mumbled good bye on his lips. It put a smirk on Severus's face. He had the information and Potter still didn't like him any better and would probably never dare to show his face anymore, even if he had been rather nice towards the boy. He hadn't bitten his head off, he hadn't insulted him. Not bad at all.
Eleanor was mellowing him.
.
He stood, elbow to elbow with Aideen and both of them dried the dishes which Aideen's mother, Imogen, washed. He knew he was acting quite unlike himself and quite beneath everything he had been taught to follow her around like this but he couldn't help himself. She was so unlike every other girl he had yet met. Cheeky, outspoken, her eyes twinkling and a smile always ready on her face. There was nothing artificial about her. She was natural, she was herself, joking with her mother, flicking soap suds at him and at her and he couldn't take his eyes off her. Not even after Potter had disturbed his focus on her. No, he had only briefly wondered what he could want, probably just another one of those foolhardy, obvious Gryffindor attempts to 'help' his godfather. Didn't matter.
He didn't honestly see or hear anyone but her and so there was a quite un-Malfoy-like sound coming from his lips when he felt someone grabbing the collar of his Muggle shirt and pulled roughly out of the kitchen, into the backyard.
"What?" he tried to glare at his godfather who looked just as imposing with his arms crossed over his chest in his leather jacket as he had done in his billowing, black robes.
"Your presence is requested at the Ministry of Magic. Don't ask me why, I'm just the messenger," Severus Snape sneered. "And do try not to be so obvious with the poor girl. She has a boyfriend anyway."
Draco's mouth dropped open. She hadn't mentioned a boyfriend. A boyfriend? Aideen, taken? Oh. His face fell and all his happiness dropped from him. Everything that had been good about this now had a stale taste. She was merely playing with him. Like so many others. He tried to feel angry, he tried to feel outraged but he couldn't. He felt — empty.
Nodding slowly, he swallowed around the newly forming lump in his throat. "The Ministry?"
"Yes," his godfather drawled. Well, this man wasn't compassionate and he had always known it. He wasn't a hugging, demonstrative, cuddly godfather. He was someone to turn to for advice — not for consolation.
"Very well," he eyed the stepladder. Might as well. He nodded once more at his godfather, then climbed the stepladder, not hearing, or rather not listening to Severus's protests and as soon as he was crouched on the other side of the wall, invisible to anyone, he disapparated, focusing all his thoughts on the apparition and none at the disappointment inside.
.
"Hermione?" Harry shouted. He had a habit of shouting. Not that she was many places in that house. Either her room, the bathroom, the library or the kitchen. And he still insisted on shouting. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"In the library," she shouted back, quickly pushing her list of people underneath a stack of parchments on which she had scribbled notes about Arithmancy.
He panted when he stood next to her. "Snape's wearing a leather jacket now. And his living room is Mugglish," he said, pensively.
"What?"
"Well...stupidly enough, I went there because I thought I could catch Draco. But apparently him and Snape were both invited to the neighbour person for Christmas and I saw them through the window and waved and tried to get their attention and then instead of Malfoy, Snape came out and dragged me to his house. And it's normal. It has white walls. And he wore a leather jacket."
Somehow, she wanted to...she had to..."What did you expect he'd live in? Black walls? That's depressing."
Harry chuckled good naturedly. "No, I just never expected him to live anywhere. I never really thought about it."
"Leather jacket?" Hermione asked, her brain processing fully what he had said.
"You're not going to start to swoon now just because someone is wearing a leather jacket, will you? It's still Snape in it."
"Why should I start swooning?" she asked, feeling caught.
"Ginny told me to get one once," he rolled his eyes. "Said she had seen it in one of her father's Muggle magazines. I don't think it was Playboy," he laughed. "More like an old TV guide thingy. And she said it would make me look dangerous and wild and just...you don't want to know."
"No, you're right, I don't," she laughed. But somehow, she tried to picture in her brain the image of Severus Snape in a leather jacket. And that image was — not unpleasant. Of course she knew that in her brain, she had changed the image of him. In those last two hours when she had tried to focus on Arithmancy and her list, the mental image of Snape in her brain had gone from Snarky Snape to well...Gentle Snape. It was only in her brain, she knew. But somehow, that leather jacket now fit perfectly. A bit dangerous, a bit mean but gentle when he the time was right, kind words when one needed them. Utter rubbish, her reasonable side said, but the rest of her disagreed.
"Did you talk to Malfoy?"
"I tried talking to Lucius Malfoy but he was silent and Draco didn't come out of the house. It was only Snape who did. And after I told him what I came to tell him, he sort of dismissed me."
"That would be him," she chuckled. Oh, how did she know? Well, she didn't. And she should just...stop building a wrong Snape-persona in her head. That was unhealthy. And bad. And wrong. On so many levels. But he was a hero. He was brave. He was smart. He stood up for the things he believed in. He was loyal. And she was very sure that he could be kind when he wanted to. That he would be once he had reason to be.
"Hermione?" Harry asked, frowning at her.
"Sorry?"
"Do you want to go out? Or do you think we can order in? We still haven't...I mean..:Christmas."
She nodded, smiling. "Let's order and open the presents."
.
"Severus?" Eleanor had found him — sitting in the garden. "Everything alright?"
He looked at her, then shrugged. "I..."
"Where did Draco go?" Aideen rushed outside. That girl certainly had the wrong timing.
"Yes, where did he go?" Eleanor asked. She hadn't seen him leave, she hadn't seen him go anywhere.
"He left," Severus said.
"Why?" Aideen asked as Eleanor looked at the man. He looked — guilty. And disturbed. And then there was a glint in his eyes. A glint she hadn't seen before. Not ever. A second later, almost too late for her to notice, he jumped up from the chair that stood in her little backyard and glared at Aideen.
"Because this is not where he should be!" he almost yelled. "This is not where he belongs and it's not right for him to run after her," he pointed at Aideen, "when she is otherwise attached."
"Otherwise attached? Gran, I don't go out with Bradley anymore. I'm not attached," her granddaughter shrieked. "Did you tell him I did?"
"I didn't, love," she answered, shaking her head.
"Did you?" she glared at Severus.
"What does it matter? He doesn't belong here," he shouted and with three or four steps, he was over the stepladder and she could hear his backdoor slamming shut.
"Aideen-love, go inside, Draco will be back and you'll tell him that you don't go out with anyone," she smiled and patted her granddaughter's cheek. "It's just a misunderstanding."
She grumbled, but the girl went back inside and Eleanor, with the Christmas present for Severus in the pocket of her apron, climbed over the stepladder as well. She should not have to do that at her age but that boy was alone and her family would be fine without her for a moment. That boy wasn't.
Eagerly, she pushed the door open and stepped through the house. He wasn't in the living room and he wasn't in the kitchen and with a sigh, Eleanor climbed the stairs.
"Cooked all day and night and have to look for Easter eggs on Christmas," she muttered. "Severus?" she cried just before she walked into his newly made bedroom. And there he sat, with his face in his hands on the bed, the leather jacket still around his shoulders. "What's the matter, love?" she asked gently, sitting down next to him (with her knees cracking) and putting an arm around his shoulders.
He said absolutely nothing. He just sat very still and she, eyebrows arched, pulled the wrapped present from the pocket of her apron. "Here," she said kindly and pried the hands from his face before she put the small present into them.
"Open it," she said and nudged him.
"I don't..."
"Severus, if you don't want to talk now, it's fine, but it's Christmas and you given me so much," she smiled at him and pushed her elbows against his ribs. He was too thin. Eleanor made a mental note to herself to cook more fattening food in the future.
He looked at her, startled and she felt so sorry for him at that moment. He had obviously heard, from that former student of his, some bad news, had heard something which had greatly disturbed him and had sent, probably, Draco to investigate since he had still access to their world and Severus hadn't. Poor boy. She smiled at him a little broader now, tried to look more encouragingly.
He looked back into her eyes, all the pain, all the hurt, and all the confusion basically oozing out of them and with trembling fingers, he unwrapped the present.
"I don't have a lot of money, so..."
He stared at the watch. It had been her husband's. It was old, but it was in beautiful condition and she knew he had none. She had taken it to have it checked and she had let the engraving be re-made. He stared at it, then stared at her, with his mouth a little open and his eyes wide. She smiled back and then pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek. It was only a moment later that he turned it around and saw the engraving on the back. Love, Eleanor, it said. And when he saw that, he looked at her again and a moment later, she had her arms wrapped around him and he had his head on her shoulder and she rocked him slowly and whispered a lot of nonsense in his ear and told him that she loved him. Loved him, no matter what.
