agneskamilla (agneskamilla) wrote in adventdrabbles, @ 2014-12-11 10:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | contributor: agneskamilla, dec09, dec10, fandom: harry potter, prompt09, prompt10, year: 2014 |
Dec 10; Harry Potter; Snape, Harry, Draco; Introductions
Title: Introductions
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing/Characters: Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy
Rating: G
Word Count: 1032
Warning(s): AU
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I write this only for entertainment purposes, no money is made by me.
Prompt: North Pole and Snowflakes
AN: Unbeta'd. Written for adventdrabbles 2014; Days 9 and 10. I have had this idea for months and now I will attempt to write it in December... so TBC. Follow up to Departure, Encounter, Storm and Night-time.
Harry feels as if he was on an expedition at the North Pole: he stands in the middle of an endless field of snow, with no sign of civilisation in sight. The snowflakes dance around him with increasing vigour, tickling his nose almost constantly, promising a storm once again.
After leaving the Dark Unicorn with one more day delay, because of the renovation work made on the stables, Harry searches for Master Snape’s home seemingly in vain. The house should be right in front of him, but Harry sees nothing. He pulls out the parchment with the address from his pocket and checks it one more time.
Master Severus Snape
Prince Chateau
Northumberland
According to one of Master Snape’s letter’s instructions it should be right… Oh.
Out of nowhere a country mansion appears a few hundred feet in front of Harry. It’s a sombre, grey, two-storey house, not overly large but robust and unfriendly looking.
As Harry walks towards the building, he thinks that no matter how much the house’s surroundings resemble the North Pole, this mansion is nothing like the residence he would imagine for Santa Claus. Not that Harry has any evidence that Master Snape resembles Santa Claus in any way; on the contrary. The man is the same age as Harry’s mother, so he shouldn’t look like a jovial old man, but still, whenever Harry imagines him, he is always one. It must be because of the fact that Harry’s mother always looked like a very old woman ever since Harry could remember, so Harry’s imagination portrays her schoolmate advanced in age as well. Harry knows how stupid this is.
When reaching the front door he knocks immediately before he could lose his bravery. While waiting, he adjusts his glasses and clothes nervously, his heart beating loudly in his chest and his knees slightly trembling.
The door opens with an ominous creak and a house-elf with enormous green eyes and bat-like ears greets Harry with a deep bow.
“Welcome to Prince Chateau,” the little creature squeaks. “Who is you, sir?” he – because it’s definitely a male – inquires.
“Um… Hullo,” Harry greets awkwardly. “I’m Harry Potter and I’m looking for Master Snape.”
“You comes in, Harry Potter, sir, and Dobby shows you to Master Snape,” the elf, Dobby, invites him in and Harry steps into the house. It’s just as dark and intimidating inside as it was outside.
“You follows,” the elf instructs and Harry obeys. He trails behind the elf as it walks along a dark, narrow corridor leading to a double door. The elf opens the door and bows to the occupants of the room behind it.
“Mister Harry Potter is here, sirs,” the elf announces and steps out of the way to let Harry in.
Harry takes a step then freezes on the threshold.
Two awfully familiar men stand inside the room. One of them is beautiful in his paleness but as cold as winter itself, the other is fascinating in his contradicting darkness.
“What the hell are you doing here?” blurts out the blonde with open animosity.
Harry, quite literally, is rendered speechless.
The dark man eyes Harry with an unnerving scrutiny.
“Speak up, boy,” he says impatiently after a few moments of awkward silence.
“I… um… I’m Harry Po… Potter, sir” Harry stutters and feels a blush rising on his cheeks. “I’m here to meet Master Severus Snape.”
“Indeed,” the dark man says scowling, featuring a displeased expression.
“You? Harry Potter?” the blonde asks incredulously.
His mother’s careful training regarding polite behaviour kicks in and Harry bows to the both of them.
“Yes, sir. I am honoured to make your acquaintance,” he says.
The dark man nods. “Likewise, Mr Potter. I am Severus Snape and this is my senior apprentice, Draco Malfoy.” His words are cordial but his almost-smile is clearly mocking Harry.
Gods, he is no jovial old man for sure.
“Your mother informed me of your wish to become my apprentice and your impending arrival,” he goes on, but after mentioning Harry’s mum, something softens in his face. Harry’s heart sinks. “How is she, if I may inquire?” Snape asks almost kindly.
The question is like a kick in the guts. The man doesn’t know that Harry’s mother… That she is… Gods, and now Harry has to tell him, even if he himself can barely say it out aloud.
“She… she is…” His anguish makes Harry’s throat close up. “She died a little more than a week ago, sir,” Harry manages in a whisper.
Master Snape’s face loses all its colour. Harry is afraid that the man will faint.
“What?” Snape hisses.
“I am sorry, sir,” Harry says, his voice trembling.
“But how… what happened?” Snape asks almost frantically; his eyes are shining with his raw pain.
“She was… ill,” Harry answers. “Some genetic disorder,” he supplies the explanation they come up with together with his mum.
“A genetic… Why didn’t she tell me?” Snape asks miserably. “I could have helped. Come up with a cure or…” Desperation drips from his every word.
Harry understands; after all, this man was his mum’s best friend, even if they hadn’t met for almost two decades.
“She was incurable. Nothing could have been done; not by magical or even Muggle means,” Harry tries to reassure Snape.
“How do you know?” Snape snaps. “You are a mere slip of a boy. I should have…”
“You couldn’t have,” says Harry as firmly as possible “She went away in peace,” he adds as much for Snape’s comfort as his own.
“I… I need to… Excuse me,” Snape says and walks to the door. “Draco, show Mr Potter to his room,” he adds over his shoulder and flees the room abruptly. He leaves a stunned silence in his wake.
Malfoy examines Harry with a disapproving frown.
“Just because you are the spawn of Oh-So-Famous-War-Hero-James-Potter,” he mocks, “and Precious-Pampered-Godson-of-Saviour-Siri
“Dobby,” Malfoy turns to the elf. “Escort Potter to the guest room on the second floor,” he instructs haughtily. “Breakfast is at eight. Don’t be late,” he tells Harry and leaves the room without giving Harry the chance to utter a single word.