whenever his wife was under the impression he was sober The dry wit is perfectly deployed. As is the amusing name Tamerlane Blott.
The entire first encounter between Aberforth and his guest hits every note spot-on. It was a put-on accent, Aberforth decided. Good, but not perfect. He had slipped a little on 'report'. / "I expect so," Aberforth replied, mimicking the plummy tone. This is one of the swiftest and best summings-up of Snape's accent change I've read. It's just right that this would be what spurs Aberforth to mockery, and it's even better that the mockery goes right over Snape's head; he really isn’t that experienced, certainly not in social niceties. His cleverness and social-climbing are weirdly naïve, which isn't at all the same thing as 'innocent.'
It was a shrewd look. That was what decided things. If it had been sullen, Aberforth might have had the decency to put his foot down and forestall the offer he suspected was coming. If it had been desperate, he would have washed his hands of the whole business and sent the boy packing back to Albus. But 'shrewd' was something else.
Oh god, this description nails Snape down and doesn't let him get away. It's wry and cruel and sad, but at the same time the opportunism Aberforth perceives is what saves Snape from being merely wretched; he plays his own games (badly) and strikes his own bargains (cluelessly), and those around him treat him accordingly. It's survivor's graft, and Aberforth knows the terms better than he does. In the background, Albus' presence and righteous disapproval hovers over both of them, adding a strange defiance to the whole exchange. If he was trying to make sure his bread was buttered on both sides, Aberforth supposed that sucking cock was probably less of an imposition than whatever he'd had to do for Albus. Again, so concise, and it speaks volumes for Aberforth's opinion of his brother's use of the hired help, and suggests that he's not indifferent to the scapegrace's plight
he was in a sore enough mood to relish the thought of putting it on Albus' bill. I do love Aberforth's petty revenge on Albus, and the complexity of his mood that partly depends on his own choice to enter into compromising acts. I also love the oily bridge of Snape's nose, his cold hands, disdainful touch, and the pink sunburn in his parted hair.
Almost as far from thirty as from ten, Aberforth thought, and he privately damned his brother. He then damned the boy as well for whatever he had done to land himself here. / Damning himself, of course, went without saying. So much buried pain. So much history repeating itself. And they're both so bloody laconic, although Snape would undoubtedly believe he's the only one damned here. Of course, Aberforth knows better, and the story makes it his cross to bear.
"One sloppy gobble and I'm yours for life. I've been pining away for you for a month, and now that it's past eleven and you look like a corpse, I plan to have my wicked way with you." Ahahaha, how could Snape not fall head over heels? And then stealing a glance, "worse than a cat." I adore the teasing, and Snape's calculation that must be as close to flirting as he ever gets. And the shadow cast by him bringing Death Eaters to the inn, prompting Aberforth to withhold his favors and resort to blood magic.
The scene in which Snape takes refuge in the bath after the tragedy at Godric's Hollow is beautifully understated and heartwrenching. His overwhelming loneliness is terrible, and although Aberforth leaving him to his misery may be a kindness, the sense that he wouldn't interfere if the boy chose to kill himself is chilling. It suggests he knows Snape has done something worth killing himself for. Still, it's more respectful than Albus taking advantage of Snape's grief to manipulate him into service. (Excuse me while I sit here and grind my axe.)
It was something about the wards--gave them the anemia if they didn't leave now and then. This tossed-off bit of magical lore tickles me.