When the Snake is away, the Werewolves will Play
Date: Thursday, 29 June
Time: Dawn
Place: Spinner's End
Character Involved: Severus Snape
Rating: G - dull household preparations for departure
The initial invitation had taken him utterly by surprise, even though he'd submitted his research for consideration shortly after the first full moon after the pack moved into the house. Severus had discovered rather quickly that he was the sort of person who needed purpose.
Having the werewolves here prevented him from sinking into the depression which had wanted to engulf him since Albus' death, and which might have succeeded in the post-war lethargy - had he been permitted to suffer anything so mundane as post-war-lethargy!
Immersing himself in his work had always been his answer to every emotional distress, and this was no different. He'd latched onto the problem of June's missing eyes, and, to a lesser degree, Derrick's injured arm, with more desperation than the situation probably warranted, simply because he needed to strive for the near-impossible.
Britian was not nearly as liberal-minded as some of the other European countries when it came to some of the more shameful issues surrounding Wizardom. The inability to cure Lycanthropy after centuries was one of them, closely followed by the same inability to cure Vampirism, among many such dismal failures. The conference in Romania was to discuss new research and developments on the use of potions in these two conditions, as well as treating victims of Banshee wails if caught in time, how to deal with Fwooper-induced insanity, and a great many other highly interesting topics.
It was an international symposium, which made it quite an honour to be invited to conduct one of the many half-day workshops. There were several workshops every day, from which the attendees had to choose their morning and afternoon selections. Some of the more popular, general topics would be repeated numerous times to give everyone a chance to attend, while other more specialised and technical lectures, such as Severus', would be done only once.
Severus used to attend every year, and twice had been one of the presenters as well. This was his first time back since he'd killed Albus, and it felt odd, as though he was somehow disrespecting the depth of the tragedy he had caused by returning to his 'normal' life.
He'd spoken with Lupin - still irate that the man had possessed the unmitigated gall to deposit money into Severus' Gringott's account - as though Severus wouldn't have figured it out eventually! He'd immediately transferred the funds into a separate account - he did understand Lupin's need to feel he was an equal contributor to household expenses - and set it aside, earmarked for the sure-to-be-expensive research into June's problem, and the purchase of prosthetic eyes if the time came to make that possible. The pantry was stocked to bursting, and he'd made sure there was plenty of money in the small hidden drawer in his desk in the cellar where he kept the cash for 'household expenses'. Lupin and June now both had access to that stash - Severus had trust issues, to be sure, but if those two had wanted to rob him blind, they'd have done it long ago!
He left no potions brewing, but was expecting several of his usual shipments whilst he was gone, and had left June instructions as to the unpacking and storage of the various ingredients in preparation for his return.
Draco had been a different situation altogether. He'd scarcely talked to the young man after their awkward, beginning reconciliation - because he'd gone and collapsed from overwork less than twenty-four-hours afterward. He found Draco's tendency to wallow in every opportunity to be the centre of attention to be annoying in an oddly endearing sort of way - but he also found himself feeling shamefully hurt that Draco had made no comment or sign of concern over him when he'd succumbed to his exhaustion. Not that he'd been ill, of course, and he certainly didn't want all the fuss and bother upon which Draco positively thrived - but some acknowledgment that the young man wasn't just using him once again, would have been welcome.
Then again, this was Draco, and Severus had long since learnt not to expect Draco to think of anyone but himself. Even though he was a bit put-out by it, the restoration to 'normality' was reassuring in its own way.
He was not taking his journal with him. He trusted the privacy charms and security wards for the most part, but if it was lost or stolen out of the country, with enough time someone could probably break through the wards and read those things he'd rather not have revealed. It was left securely locked in his room.
The world - or at least the household - would have to live utterly without him for ten days.
Somehow, he didn't think it would be much hardship for anyone.
His last act before heading to the Ministry to pick up the portkey which would whisk him away, was to collect a jar of raspberry jam and a bag of sherbet lemons, tucking them into his pocket before shouldering his satchel full of his shrunken luggage and notes.
In the grey light of early-morning, without any further word to anyone, or any 'good-bye' scene, he slipped out the front door and Apparated away. He had a stop to make along the way.
There was no time for a lingering visit, but he left his 'offerings' at the pristine white tomb shining in the midst of Hogwarts grounds, the misty fog of early morning seaming to shroud the area like a gossamer veil. His hands caressed the cold stone with mute reverence. So much of his life had been guided by the individual whose remains were housed within - Severus was not a man of 'faith', per se, but he did not believe any tomb could ever hold the spirit of Albus Dumbledore!
His chest felt heavy with grief, yet full of purpose as well. Wherever that eternal spirit was, Severus was sure the meddling old codger was contentedly watching over all his 'children' - even Severus.
With a final, gentle stroke of the unyielding marble, he left as quietly as he had come, a silent shadow slipping through the mist.
Time: Dawn
Place: Spinner's End
Character Involved: Severus Snape
Rating: G - dull household preparations for departure
The initial invitation had taken him utterly by surprise, even though he'd submitted his research for consideration shortly after the first full moon after the pack moved into the house. Severus had discovered rather quickly that he was the sort of person who needed purpose.
Having the werewolves here prevented him from sinking into the depression which had wanted to engulf him since Albus' death, and which might have succeeded in the post-war lethargy - had he been permitted to suffer anything so mundane as post-war-lethargy!
Immersing himself in his work had always been his answer to every emotional distress, and this was no different. He'd latched onto the problem of June's missing eyes, and, to a lesser degree, Derrick's injured arm, with more desperation than the situation probably warranted, simply because he needed to strive for the near-impossible.
Britian was not nearly as liberal-minded as some of the other European countries when it came to some of the more shameful issues surrounding Wizardom. The inability to cure Lycanthropy after centuries was one of them, closely followed by the same inability to cure Vampirism, among many such dismal failures. The conference in Romania was to discuss new research and developments on the use of potions in these two conditions, as well as treating victims of Banshee wails if caught in time, how to deal with Fwooper-induced insanity, and a great many other highly interesting topics.
It was an international symposium, which made it quite an honour to be invited to conduct one of the many half-day workshops. There were several workshops every day, from which the attendees had to choose their morning and afternoon selections. Some of the more popular, general topics would be repeated numerous times to give everyone a chance to attend, while other more specialised and technical lectures, such as Severus', would be done only once.
Severus used to attend every year, and twice had been one of the presenters as well. This was his first time back since he'd killed Albus, and it felt odd, as though he was somehow disrespecting the depth of the tragedy he had caused by returning to his 'normal' life.
He'd spoken with Lupin - still irate that the man had possessed the unmitigated gall to deposit money into Severus' Gringott's account - as though Severus wouldn't have figured it out eventually! He'd immediately transferred the funds into a separate account - he did understand Lupin's need to feel he was an equal contributor to household expenses - and set it aside, earmarked for the sure-to-be-expensive research into June's problem, and the purchase of prosthetic eyes if the time came to make that possible. The pantry was stocked to bursting, and he'd made sure there was plenty of money in the small hidden drawer in his desk in the cellar where he kept the cash for 'household expenses'. Lupin and June now both had access to that stash - Severus had trust issues, to be sure, but if those two had wanted to rob him blind, they'd have done it long ago!
He left no potions brewing, but was expecting several of his usual shipments whilst he was gone, and had left June instructions as to the unpacking and storage of the various ingredients in preparation for his return.
Draco had been a different situation altogether. He'd scarcely talked to the young man after their awkward, beginning reconciliation - because he'd gone and collapsed from overwork less than twenty-four-hours afterward. He found Draco's tendency to wallow in every opportunity to be the centre of attention to be annoying in an oddly endearing sort of way - but he also found himself feeling shamefully hurt that Draco had made no comment or sign of concern over him when he'd succumbed to his exhaustion. Not that he'd been ill, of course, and he certainly didn't want all the fuss and bother upon which Draco positively thrived - but some acknowledgment that the young man wasn't just using him once again, would have been welcome.
Then again, this was Draco, and Severus had long since learnt not to expect Draco to think of anyone but himself. Even though he was a bit put-out by it, the restoration to 'normality' was reassuring in its own way.
He was not taking his journal with him. He trusted the privacy charms and security wards for the most part, but if it was lost or stolen out of the country, with enough time someone could probably break through the wards and read those things he'd rather not have revealed. It was left securely locked in his room.
The world - or at least the household - would have to live utterly without him for ten days.
Somehow, he didn't think it would be much hardship for anyone.
His last act before heading to the Ministry to pick up the portkey which would whisk him away, was to collect a jar of raspberry jam and a bag of sherbet lemons, tucking them into his pocket before shouldering his satchel full of his shrunken luggage and notes.
In the grey light of early-morning, without any further word to anyone, or any 'good-bye' scene, he slipped out the front door and Apparated away. He had a stop to make along the way.
There was no time for a lingering visit, but he left his 'offerings' at the pristine white tomb shining in the midst of Hogwarts grounds, the misty fog of early morning seaming to shroud the area like a gossamer veil. His hands caressed the cold stone with mute reverence. So much of his life had been guided by the individual whose remains were housed within - Severus was not a man of 'faith', per se, but he did not believe any tomb could ever hold the spirit of Albus Dumbledore!
His chest felt heavy with grief, yet full of purpose as well. Wherever that eternal spirit was, Severus was sure the meddling old codger was contentedly watching over all his 'children' - even Severus.
With a final, gentle stroke of the unyielding marble, he left as quietly as he had come, a silent shadow slipping through the mist.