Date: Sunday, January 7, 2001
Time: Early afternoon
Location: The Woods' cottage
Characters: June Connors, Oliver Wood, Wini Wood (NPC), Severus Snape
Rating: G - there's a child present! (Well, now that Snape's involved, I should probably push that to at least PG...)
(
Here comes Santa Claus... )
In truth, he had no intention of staying long - the only reason he had asked to accompany June was that he was quite certain Wood would either slam the door in his face, or refuse to open it entirely, if Severus arrived alone. Moreover, if he sent the gift by post, it was sure to return to him, unopened, which was simply unacceptable.
Once Winifred had seen it and opened it, whether or not she would be allowed to keep it would no longer be in question. Wood was far too soft to deny his child anything she wanted. Severus just had to make sure she had the opportunity to want it!
Then, he would leave, and let them to themselves, though he was not the least bit satisfied with June's interest in the philandering prat! How many women had Wood been associated with in the last ten months, his wife scarcely cold in her grave? How quickly he abandoned Ginevra Weasley - though that was for the best - Oliver Wood wasn't good enough for anyone Severus esteemed. Why couldn't the prat toy with ( ... )
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He was looking forward to going back to coaching, but that was about all right now. It was another low time for Oliver, and he was a bit annoyed at the knock at the door that broke his persual of the latest Wizarding Sport publication.
Wini looked up from her colouring page at the knock, "Da?" she said quietly, her blue eyes round.
"I'm gettin' it, Win," he said, folding the magazine and setting it on the table. He headed to the door, peaking through the window to check and see who it was.
It was June, he saw, and Snape. With a grunt he used his wand to release the door from it's tightly charmed locks and open
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Upon discovering (or rediscovering) the faces of those close to her, June's first response was always to stare. To trace her eyes over every inch of their faces, the way someone who'd lived on bread and water for three years might react to being given a piece of chocolate cake, savoring every crumb. Only once that hunger was assuaged had she been able to really use her eyes for the purpose to which most people use them, and take in what she was seeing.
Not so with Oliver. Oh, she stared, and it helped that she wore her old glasses so he couldn't yet have any idea that she was staring. But what caught her attention wasn't the color of his eyes or the line of his jaw or the way his hair fell. It was the shadows under his eyes, the slight tightness of his mouth.
He looks so tired...He didn't even smile when he opened the door. Then again, she had Severus with her, so that might have something to do with it. But part of her wanted to reach up and touch ( ... )
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Besides, he had no desire to stay while they made dove-eyes at each other! His only intent in coming now was to shamelessly use Wood's distraction to his own advantage.
As he now did.
Stepping deftly around the father, Wood having so obligingly moved forward as to leave the door perfectly accessible, Severus squatted down to eye-level with the child who was trying to keep up with her father's motion, and made an attempt to distract her from her paternal-clinging ( ... )
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"Mine!" she said.
She stepped backwards, away from her father and into the living room that was messy with the toys she already had gotten that year.
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The detritus of Christmas was still visible - and Severus could not help but glance about the house with a critical eye. What did he care for Wood's distress over the recent Holiday past? Emotional distress was no excuse, in Severus' book, for disregard of general cleanliness and basic upkeep ( ... )
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"Mine!" she said again. She scooted closer and banged her hands on the box. "Mine!"
She knew that it was to be opened by tearing at the paper, but her hands were a bit clumsy with the paper and she didn't quite know where to tear it. She fiddled with one edge, unable to get her chubby fingers quite into the groove of the paper, and looked up at Snape with a pleading glance. "Mine peddent," she mumured, frowning back down at the box.
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"Pot'n."
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"Lol, mine," she said. She pushed over another bottle in her excitement to try and grab the instructions and sticking her nose too closely into it. "Readin', mine." She giggled before tossing the instructions on the other side of the table. "Help, please," she said in her babyish voice, pointing at the instructions and the items. "Do mine," she lifted up the stirring stick. "Me do."
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"Of course I will help you. First, you have to set up your cauldron so it won't spill, like this. Caul-dron," he repeated the word, enunciating it slowly and deliberately as he set it flat on the table and scooted the other items a safe distance away. The cauldron would not get hot, but it would warm, and the point of this gift was to stimulate her interest in the subject. It was never too early to learn basic potions safety ( ... )
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The smell of the potion had made her more excited and she proclaimed, "izbee!" a few times, reminded of her favorite treat 'fizzing whizbees.' She grabbed at the stick eagerly when Snape told her that she could and her mouth latched onto one end of it, her free hand gripping at his leg and she awkwardly climbed up and sat herself down in his lap.
"Mine wolly," she told Snape, though she did offer him the chance to take a quick lick if he so desired.
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Said fondness, however, did NOT extend to wishing to 'share' toddler-saliva, no matter how sweetly the 'offer' was made!
He did a tolerable job of concealing his grimace of disgust though, and the sweet, being quite large, was enough to conceal the truth as he pantomimed 'tasting' the treat.
"Mmmm, very tasty - well done, Winifred. You made your first potion."
Of course, nothing which ever came out of his cauldrons bore any resemblance to sweets, but the point of this exercise was to interest her in the art. She had many years to slowly learn the true beauty of the intricacies of potions ( ... )
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June's smile broadened at Oliver's open astonishment. Presented with his world-weary appearance when he opened the door, she'd started to worry whether her surprise would get anything like the reaction she'd hoped, but he didn't disappoint her. She stifled a laugh as he stammered, seeming at a loss for words.
"Since a bit before Christmas." It was a vague sort of answer, but she was reluctant to tell him she'd waited nearly a month to come and show him. Would it hurt his feelings that she hadn't come sooner? She'd meant to... "I've had to get used to them slowly, you know, but it's just... it's brilliant, Oliver, so much more than brilliant." Was there even a word invented that would describe the euphoria of having her sight back?
She hadn't missed Severus slipping past her to guide Wini inside, but she suspected Oliver had missed it, or had just been too distracted to object. Distracted by me? The way he continued to stare at her brought a faint tinge of pink to her cheeks. I guess I really do look ( ... )
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