agneskamilla (agneskamilla) wrote in adventdrabbles, @ 2014-12-14 22:18:00 |
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Severus stands at the library’s window and gazes out on the endless whiteness with unfocused eyes. The snow was falling all night, stopping only after dawn. The ground is covered in a knee-deep, soft blanket. Severus spent most of the night here, unable to sleep. His thoughts strayed to his childhood friend, his estranged confidant, recalling the fondest shared memories of their childhood. He reread many of her letters while seeping whiskey against the clench in his chest. It proved to be a long night.
The unmoving whiteness is suddenly disturbed by a human form moving through it with obvious difficulty. The figure is covered from head to toe in winter attire against the cold and comes from the direction of the house. In the middle of the lawn it stops, turns around and simply falls backward onto the snow with arms outstretched. Then the figure starts to move its arms and legs back and forth as if it was performing some ridiculous Muggle jumping exercise.
“What the heck is that nitwit doing there?” asks an incredulous voice from Severus’ side.
“I presume that Mr Potter is in the process of producing a snow angel,” Severus turns towards Draco.
The blonde pulls a disgusted face. Severus doesn’t reveal that Lily and he made many of these snow creatures in their own youth.
“How… unsophisticated,” Draco says clearly unimpressed. “But what else should we expect from such a simpleton?” he adds condescendingly.
“I have had the impression since yesterday that you two know each other,” Severus asks without forming a question.
Draco curls his lips. “He was there in that deplorable excuse for a tavern the other day,” he says.
Severus frowns. “I don’t seem to recall him.”
Draco shrugs. “I am not surprised; there is nothing remarkable about him.”
Severus only hums while he is watching as Potter ceases his weird acrobatics and carefully gets up from the snow, trying not to wreck his creation. He turns his back towards the house to admire the snow angel; his entire backside is covered with snow. Severus’ lips turn almost imperceptibly upwards.
Draco wrinkles his nose and continues. “I remember him only because he was constantly under feet when you were brought in after the accident and while you were treated. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole incident turned out to be his fault; he more than likely annoyed the old nags with his mere stupidity,” he says with absolute conviction.
Severus doesn’t remember much of that particular affair. He can recall getting outside with several others in an attempt to subdue the enraged abraxans, forming a circle in the storm, then an enormous strike to his chest. After that he remembers only a blurry image of a form covered in intricate patterns of luminescence light, and a vague feeling of warmth and belonging. From Draco’s retelling he knows that he was knocked out, carried inside and taken care of by his senior apprentice.
Probably this ethereal image is his subconscious’ fancy way to represent Draco; all the boys paleness translates into this… insubstantial lightness, conjured up by his delusional mind. Severus snorts. The whole thing is way too sentimental for his liking.
Draco must interpret his snort as a reaction to Potter’s activities.
“Ridiculous, isn’t he?” the blonde asks with a snort of his own.
Potter starts towards the house with a tiny spring in his steps.
“We should get to the dining room. The elf probably has served breakfast already,” Severus says.
“He’d better! I am starving,” Draco whines.
“In this case,” Severus gestures with his arm towards the door, “after you.”
Draco departs and Severus follows but not before glancing outside once again. Potter already vanished from sight, but his snow angel remains, adorning Severus’s front lawn.