The Riches of Ages
Severus rolled his eyes as Hermione tugged him further down the crowded street. Both sides were packed with shops and stands, displaying odds and ends ranging from the mundane to the exotic.
When Hermione had once made an offhand mention of a life-long desire to see Portabello Road (ever since she’d seen some Muggle film called ‘Broomknobs and Bedsticks’, or something of the sort), he’d decided it would be a good place to take her once the dunderheads left for the winter holidays. If he was lucky, the antique bookseller he’d visited over the years would still be in business.
oooOOOooo
After wandering around for a bit, her eyes taking in everything, she’d stopped him at a particularly large stand that sold a variety of items. While she looked through the assortment of gauzy scarves and jewelry, Severus strolled over to a stack of crates filled with records.
Some of the few wholly good memories he had from his childhood were the times when both of his parents were gone from the house. He’d sneak into his father’s domain, making sure not to disturb a single thing, and would carefully set up the old turntable that had belonged to his grandmother.
oooOOOooo
Those few minutes that he stole (he never dared to listen to more than one song, lest he get caught and punished) sustained him through the darker times in his existence.
To this day, that turntable sat in a cabinet in his private study. When he felt overwhelmed, all he needed to do was to pull it out, pick out a familiar vinyl album, and put the needle carefully in its place.
He would let himself sink into the music (still only allowing himself the luxury of one song), and for those four minutes, everything was right with the world.
oooOOOooo
He smiled faintly as he started to thumb through the cardboard sleeves.
The vendor’s collection was extensive, and exceptionally diverse. All genres were seemingly represented (including some he had never heard of… what in the blazes was ‘Krautrock'?), and he passed over groups he hadn’t thought about in years. Jefferson Airplane, The Doors, The Nice… he remembered them all.
And then he saw it.
It looked like old wood, stained and scratched. In the middle, there was a black keyhole, outlined in gold. Three words were written at the top. So simple, yet it brought back a flood of memories.
oooOOOooo
Severus Snape then did something so completely uncharacteristic that it would have caused any of his students to drop off in a dead faint.
He laughed.
Pure and unrestrained, he laughed out loud as he looked at the album.
Hermione heard him and quickly made her way over, completely taken aback. They’d been colleagues for years, and had been seeing each other for almost 10 months, and in all that time she’d never heard him so freely express mirth.
“Severus?” she asked, peering at the item in his hands. “I don’t understand… who is Humble Pie?”
He just laughed harder.
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So my mom has recently discovered the HP novels, which is awesome because she now actually gets all of my random references, and calls me to discuss plot points and bitch about how much she hates Fudge (“I swear, every time that guy opens his mouth, I just want to punch him!”). Wanting to expand her horizons a bit, I was telling her about fanfiction and this forum. When I mentioned the prompt for this week, her eyes lit up. For those of you who didn’t know, and that would include me, Humble Pie was a rock, hard rock, and rhythm and blues band from England that was active off and on from 1969 to 2002. I just thought that was wicked cool.