beholder_mod (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} beholder_mod) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} hp_beholder,@ 2008-04-22 16:33:00 |
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| Entry tags: | fic, ollivander, severus snape, slash |
FIC: 'A Lesson in Wandlore' for fluffyllama
Recipient: fluffyllama
Author: regan_v
Title: A Lesson In Wandlore
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Snape/Ollivander
Word Count: 6500 words
Warnings: None. Snape is over 18.
Summary: Ollivander teaches Snape a few things about wands.
Author's Notes: I am very fortunate in my betas, both as editors and as friends. They're very talented writers and used their skills to substantially improve my story. I'm grateful for both their generosity and their kind encouragement.
***
"Never cast an Unforgiveable before, Snape? You need to mean it, or it's no good."
Severus looked up to see Bellatrix standing in the doorway. Her beautifully-tailored red silk robes made her look out of place in his shabby bedsitter, but made her sneer all the more convincing. He pressed his lips together in annoyance and looked down again at the mouse, still running happily on its wheel. He didn't seem to be able to produce a consistent Cruciatus on command.
"It's the wand," he said shortly. "I need a new one for Dark Arts work." He thought about adding And weren't you ever taught to knock?, but thought better of it. He'd need to do research to create stronger wards, however; she shouldn't have been able to just stroll into his flat with no warning.
"It's you," she retorted, narrowing her eyes. "Perhaps you just don't enjoy hurting furry little white mice, hmmmm? Or perhaps you haven't the power."
Severus was tired of Bellatrix's constant taunts. He'd never measure up as far as she was concerned. But it was the wand, he was certain. God knows he could cast other Dark spells, and there was no reason he shouldn't be able to produce a decent Cruciatus. But his wand was a hand-me-down from his mother's oldest sister, not that he would reveal that to Bellatrix. No doubt the Black daughters had each been sent to school with two new wands---one as a backup--- carefully fitted to them by Ollivander himself.
The wand had worked decently for him, although occasionally a bit sluggishly, back at school. Certainly it hadn't been a problem in Potions, which required little wand work, and he'd managed well enough with it in his other courses. But he'd sometimes noticed that it felt a bit . . . off when he tried advanced work in Dark Arts.
Then Black and Potter had thrown him against a wall on his way down to the train, his last day at Hogwarts. Can't wait to go and join that pack of murderers, Snivellus? Black had sneered, as Potter closed in for the kill. Only Lily's sudden appearance at the end of the corridor had distracted them, and made them hold back. Black had settled for a hard punch to his gut, and the two of them strode off while Severus doubled over, gasping.
When they attacked him he'd sensed how his wand, secreted in one pocket, had been slammed against the hard stone wall as well. There were no visible cracks on the exterior, when he checked. But after that, the wand had been more noticeably sluggish.
"Are you here for a reason, Bellatrix?"
She glanced around the sparely-furnished room, resting her eyes briefly on the unmade bed. "It's not a social call, Severus. Our Lord sent me to ask whether you'd finished work on the Befuddlement Draught"
Severus flushed. He hadn't, as it happened. Old Gudgeon had asked him to work late last night, again. I have an order for a double batch of Beautification Potion. You don't have any plans for this evening do you, Snape?
"It's brewing," he lied. "I'll have it ready by Friday morning." He stood up and walked past her to stand by the open front door to his bedsitter. "Can you come by to get it before 8 a.m.? I've got to be at work."
"I never get up that early. Come by my house during your lunch hour, in that case."
Severus glared at her but nodded, and Bellatrix swept past him and down the stairs. He shut the door gently behind her and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. He'd be up late tonight, that was certain.
By the following weekend, he'd caught up on his work (both the paid labor and the other sort), and decided that a small reward was in order: window shopping and browsing the shops in Knockturn. It cost nothing to look.
His steps slowed as he passed Ollivander's: "Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C" .
There wasn't much to see in the window, as always. But he glanced through the open door. The sight of thousands of wands in their boxes always sent a shiver down his back, and made him feel greedy and envious. All that power, stacked neatly in rows of thin boxes.
He thrust his right hand down into his trouser pocket and fingered his aunt's old wand. Like worrying at a sore tooth, in the back of his mouth. How high up were those boxes stacked? He tilted his head back a bit, trying to make out where the top of the columns of boxes disappeared into the shadows inside the shop.
"Looking for something?" The tone of voice was dry, and Severus startled, looking down at the elderly man who'd suddenly appeared in the doorway. "I don't think I've ever fitted you with a wand before."
Severus suddenly wondered how it would feel to hold a wand that had been fitted to him. Would the magic feel any different, flowing through him as he cast?
"No, you haven't."
The old man tilted his head, and looked at Severus. "You've got a family wand, then?"
He nodded, feeling defensive and angry at the man for asking. What business of his was it, if Severus had a hand-me-down wand?
"Come inside then, and I'll see what I've got for you."
Severus snorted, but followed Ollivander inside. He'd be wasting the old man's time, since he hadn't nearly enough money for a wand. Served him right, for prying.
The first two wands Ollivander gave him to try were lifeless. Like dead sticks. It crossed his mind that the old man might be playing with him, to mock his obvious lack of funds. Giving him wands that lacked cores, perhaps.
After the third wand thrummed slightly in his palm but failed to cast any spell, Ollivander narrowed his eyes, and looked thoughtful. Severus felt a whisper brush against his mind, a gentle touch, and closed his eyes quickly.
"Don't!" he snarled. It was bad enough that he had to tolerate Voldemort's probing on occasion.
Ollivander looked apologetic. "I'm sorry if that bothered you. Sometimes Legilimency can help to find a wand for someone who's difficult to suit. A wand is far more choosy than the Sorting Hat, and people don't fall into just four categories when it comes to wands, you know."
"I'm hard to fit?" Severus was intrigued.
"Yes. Still, in your case, I'm surprised. Usually, it's easier to find a wand to choose someone who already carries the Mark. There are some types of wand that like that sort of witch or wizard."
Severus kept himself from glancing down at his (robed) left arm and glared at Ollivander. "How did you---" He broke off before he could say something incriminating. Ollivander couldn't prove anything.
Ollivander looked at him steadily. His lips twitched, but he said nothing.
Severus took a quick breath and then nodded curtly. "Well, I'm sorry to have taken up your time." He began to turn away from the counter.
"No, wait. I'm sure I can find a wand that will choose you." Ollivander's tone seemed faintly apologetic. He disappeared into a back room, and Severus could hear him rummaging around behind the curtain that separated the two rooms. He paused, undecided about whether to leave or not, but Ollivander reappeared after just a moment, carrying a dusty box.
"Try this one." Ollivander sounded faintly curious.
Severus opened the box and found a rather ordinary-looking wand.
"Oak, 12 inches long. It's got a Thestral hair core. Springy. A good wand for Potions work, too. But I expect it would only choose you if you can see a Thestral. Can you?" Ollivander's tone was speculative and curious.
Severus remembered his mother's death, finding her body lying at the base of the stairs after . . . but quickly pushed the image to the back of his mind and nodded as he picked up the wand. Before he'd even got it all the way out of its bedding in the box, a pulse of magic ran down through his arm and hand and into the wand. His aunt's wand had never felt so right. Like it was an extension of his own arm. He gave the wand a tentative swish, thought Legilimens, and looked into Ollivander's eyes. Turnabout was always fair play.
Ollivander only smiled, and Severus felt foolish. The old man's mind was completely shuttered.
"It's chosen you, then."
Severus felt ducked his head to hide his pleasure, but then remembered. He couldn't afford that wand, that wonderful, perfect wand. Shame rose inside him, but he pushed it down again. He wanted this wand. Now that he knew how the right one would feel, he couldn't go back to his aunt's old wand again. The new wand felt like . . . . like he'd been deaf his entire life and could now suddenly hear music.
"How much?"
Ollivander looked him over appraisingly, and responded tentatively. "Well, you could earn it. It would be useful to have someone help me to complete a proper inventory; I've been meaning to do one for years. And you could run errands for me. Get some of the materials I'd need. It's hard for me to do that on summer weekends, when parents are shopping for new wands for children."
He'd have to stay up very late brewing for his Lord if he worked all day on the weekends for Ollivander, but it would be worth it. "How long would it take me to work off the debt, then?" He didn't want to sound too eager. But at the same time, Severus wondered whether he could cast a good Crucio on a rat with this wand.
"I expect you could, with that one." Ollivander sounded amused by the unspoken question. "If you'd work all day on Saturdays and a half day on Sundays from now through the Christmas holiday, we could call it even."
Severus met his eyes and nodded. This would give him a chance to practice Occlumency, as well. He'd never dared to try that with the Dark Lord before, for fear of being detected in the failure before he'd become proficient at it. But he was damned if he'd let Ollivander have access to his thoughts in addition to his time.
Doing the inventory didn't turn out to be quite as boring as he'd expected. Working his way through box after box, Severus quickly learned to tell cherry wood from rosewood at a glance. And within a few days, he no longer needed to measure a wand with a tape measure. He could tell just by looking whether a wand was eight inches, or eight and one half. Rosier had been lying to him about his wand's size, he now realized. Well, he'd always suspected as much. How pathetic.
Learning to discern what each wand had in its core took a bit longer. At first, he'd show a wand to Ollivander, who always seemed to recall what core he'd put in each wand, but soon Severus began to notice patterns in how wands felt, and responded to him. Dragon heartstring felt almost as lively to his hands as his own Thestral-cored wand, while wands with a unicorn hair core were always completely lifeless. Wands with Veela hair cores thrummed, but didn't do anything. And the occasional wand with a phoenix feather core . . . tickled.
On the fourth weekend, Ollivander tested him on several dozen wands chosen at random from the back room, and Severus was able to tell what the core was each time. Ollivander seemed unsurprised and told him that in the future, he only had to ask about a wand's core if he was unsure about it. Ollivander went back out to the front room again, and Severus heard the bell that hung from the top of the door tinkle gently as someone came into the shop.
Severus continued to work his way methodically down the stack of wand boxes in front of him, levitating the one on top of the stack down gently before examining it and making an entry on his inventory chart (Hawthorne, seven inches, unicorn hair core). He reboxed it and stacked it in the pile that had already been inventoried, before turning back to the stack he was working through. In the front room, Ollivander's voice rose and fell softly, with an occasional interjection from the customer he was waiting on. Severus paused and listened for a second, but couldn't make out what they were saying. It was a witch; he could hear that much.
The door bell chimed several times while Severus inventoried half a dozen more wands. Yew, nine inches, Veela hair core and Maple, eleven inches, dragon heartstring core. In the front room, Ollivander brushed against the curtain divider and it was pushed open a bit. The voices became more distinct, and Severus paused to eavesdrop.
"It's the wand's fault, I'm certain. I didn't crack or scratch it or anything like that." It was a man's voice, rather deep-pitched and defensive-sounding.
"I didn't say that you did," Ollivander responded gently. "But can you describe what you were doing with the wand just before it stopped responding so well?"
"Nothing! I wasn't doing anything in particular! It's just . . . defective. It's not working any more." The man's voice rose, and he was beginning to sound angry. "I demand that you give me either a new wand or a refund. Your wand isn't working very well, and I paid good money for this one three years ago."
"I don't think that the wand is defective," Ollivander said, sounding reflective. "But it no longer wants to work for you, that's certain. I'm afraid I can't offer a refund in such a case. But I'll give you a ten percent discount on a new one."
The customer blustered a bit longer, but in the end Ollivander persuaded him to be fitted with a new wand. Willow, seven inches, dragon heartstring core. It was one he'd already added to the inventory, and Severus made a notation next to the entry for the wand. The conversation in the front room continued for a minute longer, and then Severus heard the man slam the door shut behind him.
Ollivander came into the back room, looking amused.
"What was wrong with his wand?" Severus asked.
"Nothing. Not a thing was wrong with it. But he was no longer its master." Ollivander gave a small smile.
"No longer its master?" Severus repeated, feeling as if he'd missed something. Did this mean that his own new wand might reject him, someday?
"It happens," Ollivander shrugged. "More often, in times like these. Your master has actually been rather good for my business."
Severus just looked at him. He'd never been foolish enough to confirm that he'd taken the Mark to Ollivander.
"Someone defeated him. Wizards seem to feel unmanned when this happens to them," Ollivander continued. "Witches are more practical. If a wand stops working for them, they generally just set it aside and move on. Of course, the problem with witches is that they sometimes horde older wands, like a trove of hand-me-down robes, and try to fit their own children using a stockpile of inherited wands. It doesn't always work out well for the child."
Before he'd gone to Hogwarts, his own mother had Severus try three wands that she'd hidden away in the attic: his aunt's school wand, a cousin's hand-me-down, and one that had belonged to his grandmother. Only his aunt's had worked even halfway well. Severus suddenly had an insight as to why his cousin (a red-faced, cheapskate bastard) had been willing to pass on a wand to Eileen Snape. He smiled.
The door chime rang again, and Ollivander disappeared behind the curtain. He looked back into the room briefly a few minutes later in order to say, "A colleague of yours, I believe," and picked up a few boxes before returning to the front counter. Intrigued, Severus followed him into the front of the shop.
It was Macnair.
"I . . . . lost my wand last night," he was saying. Ran into an Auror, more likely Severus thought. Standing behind Ollivander he caught Macnair's eye and nodded, before Macnair could say anything.
Ollivander didn't seem to want any more explanation than that. Severus remembered that his comment that the Death Eaters were "good for business," and watched the old man methodically set about fitting Macnair with a new wand. Ollivander was right: it didn't take long to find one that would work for Macnair, although Severus was damned if he could see any links or patterns in the wands Ollivander had given him and the other Death Eaters he'd seen here as customers. Hornbeam, ten inches. Hippogriff feather core.
Macnair paid and left, and Ollivander carefully put away the Galleons before noting the addition in his account ledger. He didn't really care which side he sold to, Severus thought. Maybe Ollivander didn't care which side won, then.
"You fitted the Dark Lord with his wand, didn't you?" he asked, suddenly curious to see what Ollivander would say.
"That I did. He'd bought a second-hand wand somewhere back when he started school, and came to me to be fitted when he got his first position after he left Hogwarts." Apparently, Ollivander didn't mind the topic. "He wasn't that easy to suit, either. The first wand he tried refused to serve him, and when he tried to force his magic through it, it shattered. Unicorn hair core, of course. He made no fuss about paying for it, I'll say that for him."
Ollivander didn't mind selling wands to the Dark Lord and his followers, that much was clear. And he had a very sharp mind. Severus had come to enjoy Ollivander's dry humor and had noticed how the old man could see through evasions and lies. He wondered whether he could persuade Ollivander that the Dark Lord was worthy of his loyalty. Having their own master wandmaker could be a powerful asset for the Death Eaters; Ollivander could sell wands to the Aurors that didn't work as well for them as they might, for example.
"I've heard it said that he's a great wizard," Severus began cautiously.
Ollivander peered up over the top of his glasses at him and smiled. Severus noticed with faint surprise that his eyes were actually light blue; the color was less noticeable with the glasses on. "He's done both great and terrible things," Ollivander said agreeably.
Terrible didn't sound too positive. But Ollivander's tone of voice was encouraging.
"He wants to protect our world from the Muggles, is all," Severus said. He didn't want to sound defensive, however, and strove for a more confident tone. "He appreciates the traditional wizarding lifestyle and values, and wants to preserve them."
"Oh, I think he's really after more than that," Ollivander observed. He sounded a bit distracted. "He strikes me as the sort of person who is really mostly out for himself."
Severus opened his mouth to defend the Dark Lord, but then thought better of it. He shrugged, and turned back to his inventory. Elm, ten inches. Ashwinder scale core.
August arrived, bringing dozens of families with children in tow each weekend, looking to buy wands before September 1st. Severus had to struggle with an impulse to sneer at the eleven year olds who followed their parents into the store, excited and eager to get their own wands. Each one cost more than his own mother had had on hand to buy Severus' entire school kit.
September was better. The shop was much quieter now that the summer rush was over. Severus' inventory was now almost complete, and Ollivander set to work restocking a few categories of wand where he'd run low on particular combinations of wood and core. Not that there weren't still hundreds of other combinations still in stock, of course. The stacks of boxes were now mostly dusted and arranged a bit more neatly.
Ollivander sometimes let Severus mind the shop for an hour now, while he went out to Knockturn shops, looking for new materials to experiment with. New cores. Severus watched Ollivander carefully pick through small heaps of feathers and scales, picking up each one with those long, slender fingers, holding it up against the light coming through the shop's front window to examine it more closely. Ollivander's movements were neat and deft. He'd probably be good at Potions as well. He was good at Charms: the ones Severus had seen him using to seal cores inside of wands were unusual and complicated. He wondered whether Ollivander could be persuaded to show him how to do those charms, too.
Good at Charms and Potions. Like Lily. Severus scowled and turned back to the final stack of wands, all that remained for him to inventory. Watching Ollivander sort through the feathers and scales---was that large one really from a Basilisk?---had taken his mind off Lily for a bit.
Regulus had told him that Lily had finally married Potter yesterday. His parents had the nerve to invite some of our family to see him marry that Mudblood. You'd think they'd know better.. She was off on her honeymoon, by now.
Severus examined the wand in the box in front of him (Holly, eleven inches. Phoenix feather core). An unusual combination. He scratched out an entry for the wand but pressed down so hard that the quill's tip broke off. He bit back a curse, and reached for another.
Lily had been . . . well, that path was closed to him now. With Lily at his side, he could have had a normal life. A good one. Children, perhaps. Although he hadn't wanted Lily so much in that way, as for the other things she represented. A nice family.
Lily's face was rounded, soft. She'd never had to go hungry, and her robes were soft and warm, in winter. She always smelled of wisteria and vanilla when Severus had stood close to her, working together in Potions class.
But she was Lily Potter now. She hadn't chosen Severus. The only ones who'd ever wanted Severus were some of the others from his own House; Mulciber and Regulus and a few of the others had wanted Severus' mouth. Or his hands. As he'd had theirs, in quick exchanges behind the greenhouses. Or up in the seventh years' dorm room, with the door warded.
Severus forced his thoughts away from Lily, and carefully levitated down the next box from the top of the stack. Walnut, ten inches. Thestral hair core. The wand felt lively in his hand; it would have worked for him almost as well as his own, he knew.
Ollivander gathered up the scales he was sorting through, and put them back in the elaborately-carved wooden box he used to store the smaller scales. The wooden lid clicked shut and Severus looked over to the desk where Ollivander sat.
Had Ollivander had fumbling, fast exchanges like that in Hogwarts dorm rooms, decades ago? Severus looked at Ollivander's hands, and it was suddenly easier to imagine that he had done things like that than Severus would have credited, four months ago. How many lovers had he had? He wondered idly what Ollivander liked.
Ollivander suddenly looked up and caught Severus' eye, and he felt himself flush.
Ollivander gave him a small, knowing smile. "Don't be foolish. You're far too young for me."
What do you mean, I'm too young? Severus bit back the response with an effort. But then thought, why not?. It would be nice to be taken care of, for a change. And to be certain that the other person thought he was attractive. To be wanted. Surely Ollivander would be pleased to get him, after all.
Severus raised one eyebrow at Ollivander, and tried for a nonchalant tone even as he blushed as he responded. "Are you sure?"
Ollivander looked amused, but then inclined his head slightly. "Very well." He made a gesture with his wand, and Severus saw the "open" sign on the front door flip around so that the "closed" side faced towards the street. Ollivander rose and walked to the foot of the staircase in the back of the room, which Severus had assumed led upstairs to a flat. At the base of the stairs he turned back and looked at Severus, before going up the staircase.
After a moment's hesitation, Severus followed him up the stairs.
Sex with Ollivander was anything but rough or hasty.
He undressed Severus carefully and slowly, like he was unwrapping a present, before moving back a step and silently indicating that Severus should do the same for him. No one had ever wanted to see his body like that, and it made Severus feel oddly self-conscious, but also a bit flattered. Ollivander's skin was like softest chamois and his muscles were still taut and wiry, wrapped tightly around his thin frame.
Undressed, he looked tougher and somehow less vulnerable than he had before, in his robes. His mouth and hands were far more clever than those of any of the boys who'd been in Severus' year.
He led Severus over to his bed, and knelt before him, swallowing him down whole. It was a good thing that Severus was already sitting down, because his knees would have buckled if he'd been standing.
Ollivander's mouth was . . . my God Severus thought, barely able to put two words together. He felt himself falling backwards on to the mattress, and thrust up into that wet, hot mouth. Ollivander hummed around his mouthful, while his tongue stroked the underside of Severus' cock, coaxing. It was too much, too good . . . Severus came hard and Ollivander swallowed it down, neat as a mouthful of scotch.
He felt mildly embarrassed not to have lasted longer, but Ollivander murmured, "yes, yes," and climbed up on to the bed next to him. He seemed to think that Severus was a banquet, and spent a long time exploring and tasting. Nibbling on a nipple, worrying it with his tongue until Severus finally gave up and let the moan out. Touching, stroking gently down the sides of Severus' ribs, gradually deepening the pressure into a light scratch, which tantalized and promised more.
Ollivander played with him until Severus melted into the mattress, moaning pitifully, glad that no one could hear them. When he finally eased one long, oiled finger inside Severus and crooked it, Severus heard someone say Oh, God. Yes, and spread his legs wider. Ollivander wouldn't be hurried, though. Ages later, he finally folded Severus' legs back and eased inside, beginning to ride Severus with a steady, slow rhythm.
He lasted a long, long time. Longer than Severus could have imagined, tossing his head back and forth on the pillow, far past speech. Hanging just on the edge. He was going to die if he didn't come. Die.
But finally Ollivander speeded up and reached down to stroke him firmly. Severus sobbed and spurted all over his stomach as Ollivander grunted and slowed down, before stopping entirely. After a minute, he withdrew carefully, and fell back to lie beside Severus.
"I guess I'm not too young for you after all, then," Severus said. After he'd got his breath back. And the power of speech.
Ollivander propped himself up on one elbow and looked down into Severus' eyes. "No, I suppose you're not," he replied. He sounded bemused. But like he was pleased with Severus, too.
After that, Ollivander sometimes asked Severus to stay for dinner after the shop closed on Saturdays and took him to bed afterwards. Ollivander always took his time and Severus was aware, in the back of his mind, that Ollivander was teaching him patience. That sex could be . . . well, almost like Potions. If you didn't rush it was a hundred times better. He never asked Severus to spend the night, though. Severus had too much brewing to do for the Dark Lord to have stayed over, anyway.
Ollivander tutored him in Occlumency when business was slow on Sunday afternoons, and Severus improved his defenses rapidly. By the end of October, he began to feel secure enough in his skill that he thought he might even be able to lie to the Dark Lord, if he needed to. Not that he had any reason to do so, usually.
After the Christmas rush began, the shop was busier on the weekends, and they had less time to talk. Severus wondered whether Ollivander would ask him to continue to work on the weekends after he'd paid off the wand, but the subject was never raised. Ollivander gave him a small present, a plain casket containing a box of dried boomslang skin and two runespoor eggs (carefully packed), on the last weekend before Christmas and thanked him for all his work.
"You've paid off your debt now, haven't you?" Ollivander said gently, looking him in the eye. He never tried Legilimency these days, however, so Severus didn't tense up.
"I suppose I have," Severus responded, feeling that he was missing something. He took the casket awkwardly, feeling a bit stupid for not having thought to buy Ollivander a present as well. He could have brewed something, at least. But he thanked Ollivander and wished him a good holiday and goodbye and thank you for all your time before going out into the darkened, crowded Alley, filled with pre-Christmas shoppers.
Only much later did it occur to him that perhaps Ollivander perhaps hadn't been dismissing him, but rather giving him an opening. Asking if he wanted to keep working in the shop.
He had thought he might stop by the shop occasionally after his work was over. But the Dark Lord became more demanding and although he was still curious about those charms Ollivander used on wands and if pressed, would have admitted that he didn't mind the sex either, he never made the time.
Then events snowballed. A few weeks after his twentieth birthday, he overheard the prophecy in Hogsmeade, pleasing the Dark Lord to no end. Severus' leisure time all but vanished, overnight. The Dark Lord's inner circle met more frequently, he found, and once he'd pleased his master by reporting what he'd heard, his attendance was expected. He no longer had time to give even the briefest of thoughts to the wand maker.
Then Lily was killed and he was branded a Death Eater and it was only by the skin of his teeth and Dumbledore's testimony that he was spared a sentence in Azkaban.
After Dumbledore hired him as a teacher, he went to Diagon even less often. On the rare occasion when he looked in at Flourish and Blotts, he could call on Ollivander as a courtesy. The old man always seemed pleased to see him, and sometimes invited him to stay for tea.
He never invited Severus upstairs again, however. Severus told himself that it was just as well. There were other places he could get sex, after all; he valued the intelligent conversation more than any physical gratification he could have got from Ollivander. And that stupid young man who had followed Ollivander up the stairs no longer existed anyway.
One summer he wasn't able to stop in at all and wondered whether Ollivander had missed his visit. He found out, soon enough; Ollivander had been taken prisoner by Severus' associates and wouldn't have known if he had stopped by the shop anyway. A month went by before he had the opportunity to see the man, to bring him something extra, if not enough, to eat. He fixed Ollivander's glasses after Macnair broke them, and slipped the old man jars of healing salve to use after rounds of "questioning." The time after that, he made the case---and Lucius, at least, appeared to listen---that as long as they had their own captive wand-maker, whom they could force to work for them, they perhaps ought not to break his fingers.
Ollivander was forced to make new wands for the Death Eaters. Severus could tell that Ollivander was using wood that was a bit too dry, which made the wands somewhat brittle. But his Occlumency was good enough to conceal the knowledge from anyone else in the Manor. But Ollivander knew he knew and continued to make the slightly inferior wands with Severus' silent blessing. It didn't take more than a barely raised eyebrow to convey that he knew and approved of what the old man was doing.
Potter's shuffling footsteps died away down the tunnel; Severus opened one eye but still suppressed his groan. The Granger girl had sharp ears, and he didn't want them coming back into the room. He groped in one pocket and pulled out the rest of the bottle of blood-replenishing potion, downing it quickly. A second dose could be taken on top of the anti-venom, and he fell back on the floor while it took effect.
After about fifteen minutes, he acknowledged to himself that he wasn't going to die and that he'd better get moving. He needed to get out of the Shack and find a place to lay low, until the boy did what he had been sacrificed to do. Severus had helped as much as he could, and now he need time to recover. There was nothing else; in his depleted state he couldn’t have Accio'd a daisy. Rolling over on one side before pulling himself to a sitting position, he stifled a cry of pain. Every joint ached.
He stood up slowly and carefully, and looked in the corners of the room 'til he'd found where his wand had rolled when he'd dropped it. It was intact. At first it didn't seem to want to work for him but on the third try, he was able to Apparate back to Spinner's End. He'd never been so glad to get a hot bath in his life.
But if his wand wasn't broken or cracked, it didn't seem to have come through unscathed, either. By the end of the week, Severus was certain of it: it wasn't just that he'd been recovering from his exertions. Even after he felt fit again, his wand remained sluggish and uncertain. It reminded him of . . . Severus suddenly recalled how his aunt's old wand had worked for him and the reaction of that first male customer of Ollivander's all those years ago, and smiled grimly. He'd need a new wand.
Cloaked and hooded, he stood before Ollivander's shop early the next morning, peering through the window. The shop wasn't open yet, but he could see the old man back in his old routine, moving around inside. He tapped on the door lightly. Ollivander opened it and cast a sharp glance at him before stepping back and motioning him inside. He felt the wards drop behind him.
Severus pushed his hood back from his face and noticed that Ollivander seemed unsurprised to see him.
"You're having problems with your wand?" he asked, clearly knowing what the answer would be.
"Yes. The Dark Lord ordered Nagini to attack me, and I barely survived. I'm afraid I don't have much money on me at the moment, either."
Ollivander gave a small smile and disappeared into the back room without a word, returning with half a dozen boxes. It proved easier to fit Severus with his new wand than it had the first time: none were lifeless for him, and the second one immediately gave off some sparks. Ollivander nodded to himself and picked out a third one from the stack.
"Rosewood, eleven inches, dragon's heartstring core," he murmured. Severus picked it up and immediately felt that sense of rightness that his old wand had possessed, before. He smiled.
"Do you want me to give you back my old wand?" he asked, curious.
"No need. Its master is dead, and I doubt it would serve anyone else well now. You can burn it." Ollivander paused. "I heard the Potter boy say that you'd been working for Dumbledore all along."
Severus nodded, but didn't respond.
Ollivander looked him over appraisingly. "You seem to have survived. And I doubt you'll want to return to Hogwarts. Have you thought about what you're going to do now?"
Severus shrugged. He'd have to get himself cleared first of any charges, although it sounded as if Potter had already laid the groundwork for that. If he never stood in front of a classroom again, that would be a blessing. "I thought I might try to get some work brewing," he said.
"You could come and work with me," Ollivander offered, diffidently. Severus noticed that he hadn't said for me, and looked at him curiously.
"With you?"
"I have no successor, and now that this war is over there are going to be a lot of witches and wizards who'll need new wands," Ollivander said bluntly. "I wouldn't mind training you in wandlore. Anyone who can brew as well as you has the patience and attention to detail that it takes. We get along well enough."
He stood there and let Severus think it over.
It would be quiet, working on crafting wands in Ollivander's back room for much of the day. At least as secluded as brewing potions in the back of a shop. The thought of not encountering the hordes of students and teachers he had had to suffer through on a daily basis at Hogwarts made him decide right there and then. And Ollivander was right: they didn't get on each other's nerves.
"Would you take most of the work with customers for me, then?" he asked. "I would rather work in back, at least for a while."
"I can imagine," Ollivander said dryly. "I wouldn't mind doing that, no."
Severus tilted his head slightly, and looked at Ollivander carefully. The old man knew a lot that Severus would enjoy learning. Not as much as Dumbledore had, but then again, Ollivander didn't want to be Severus' master, either. The happiest years of his life had been as a student. It would make a nice change to be the one who was taught, instead of the teacher.
"All right," he said slowly. "We could try that." He still felt a little suspicious at the suddenness of the offer, but there was no reason to turn Ollivander down, and several reasons to agree.
Ollivander gave a small smile, and reached out to shake Severus' hand.
"Why are you offering this?" Severus asked as he took Ollivander's hand. It really was almost too good an offer to be true, now that he stopped to think about it.
Ollivander looked him in the eye. "Because now you're old enough that you're interesting."
Severus suppressed a smile, and nodded. He could say the same.
***