abrae (abrae) wrote in snape_potter, @ 2012-12-28 22:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | abrae, fic, rating: r |
Fic: Unmasqued
Title: Unmasqued
Author: abrae
Other pairings/threesome: None
Rating: Soft R
Word count: +/- 4000
Content/Warning(s): (highlight for spoilers) *Romance*
Summary/Prompt: It’s been three years since Snape last saw Harry...until the night of the Halloween masque
A/N: I’m grateful to suitesamba and roozetter for their close, careful reading, without which this would have been a much-diminished, and far more purple, little tale. #allthelove
Please say you’ll come. I know how much you hate these things – I’m not crazy about them myself - but McGona the Headmistress threatened to sic Trelawney on me at the next faculty retreat if I don’t show up (in costume!!!) and I don’t want to be the only bent bloke in the room. Please - I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.
Snape reread the hurried scrawl for the umpteenth time and heaved a sigh. He had successfully avoided returning to Hogwarts for three years running, and he didn’t fancy breaking his streak with a Halloween masque celebrating the founding of the school - especially since it promised to have a fair number of Ministry officials in attendance. It occurred to him that, of all people, Potter should understand his ambivalence about this particular celebration… but, then, he was uniquely aware of its negative associations for his persistent pen-pal, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of empathy.
Truth be told, corresponding with Potter over the past few years had been no great hardship. He had found that, with the distance that parchment and owls afforded, Potter was tolerably amusing, and Snape had to admit – to himself, if no one else – that he rather looked forward to the weekly arrival of Potter’s bedraggled owl (orphaned, rather like the boy himself, when an errant curse effectively destroyed half the Hogwarts’ owlery during the final battle). He couldn’t help but feel just a bit of curiosity about how the boy had turned out, and this kind of public setting might keep the conversation between them from becoming too maudlin.
But it had been three years since he’d seen anyone from the past – three years since he’d allowed himself to be seen outside the confines of the small seaside hamlet where he’d recovered from his injuries and eventually established an owl-post potions concern. He rather thought he looked better, all told, than he had in the past; a certain dark je ne sais quoi that had dogged him throughout his life as both student and professor at Hogwarts had lifted in the years following the war, and he’d even found himself on the receiving end of an appreciative glance or two whilst he went about his day to day activities. No, he had little to fear on that account, and yet he remained somewhat wary of exposing himself to the prying eyes of those who had known him before - before the war, before Dumbledore, before the boy.
Snape sighed again, then stood and crossed to his wardrobe. He flung the doors open and rifled through the few items of clothing he found within. Black… black… and a little more black. Oh, he thought, pulling out a circa-1984 waistcoat, that’s almost grey…, and then he flung the garment onto his bed and rolled his eyes. It was ridiculous, and he could only imagine what his former colleagues and – god forbid – students would think if they saw him preening like a peacock before the mirror.
Finally, concluding that he was better off playing to type than against, he grabbed a midnight-black cloak and spelled his one black cravat blood-red, then stalked over to his desk by the window to pen a quick note to Potter.
I’ll be there. Look for me. - SS