(no subject)
Who? Sebastian Savage, Isabel Lestrange-Savage, Isaiah Rookwood, Stella Lestrange-Savage, and Brando Lestrange-Savage
What? Something besides his uncle Amy has to wake him up.
When? Now in grownhp6words
Why? Because he refuses to die if it means he has to spend eternity with Uncle Amycus.
Writing prompt: Explode by the Cardigans
"You can't distract me forever, Bastian," She whispers as his hand rests on the small of her back. They're dancing to Otis Redding in the living room of his first flat. Long blond hair cascades like spun gold over her shoulders. She's so young. So fucking young.
"I don't know what you mean." It's a lie. He knows exactly what she means. They have an unspoken ability to always know what the other means with words and actions.
She doesn't stop dancing. If anything, she holds him closer, as if she is afraid to let him go. Maybe she is. Maybe she's afraid that if he she lets go he'll wake up on the other side. "You promised."
"I know."
"You lied."
"Not when I made the promise."
The sound of her palm connecting with his cheek echoes off the walls. He blinks at her. It's not the first time she has slapped him. It always comes back to lies. If she can catch him in it she makes it clear that he better not lie again, or have the decency not to get caught at it. "Izzy.."
"Don't you Izzy me, Sebastian Savage. Don't you dare. You promised me that you'd be safe. You promised if I supported you in following your dad into this line of work after your mother BEGGED you not to do it, that you would prove her wrong. That you'd be fine."
It's the tears in her perfect blue eyes that cut deeper than words. Cut as deep as a wolf's claws into flesh.
There's a howl. He doesn't tremble. He just looks away from her. Unable to see her this young and vulnerable. Knowing that if she is a teenager here then he must be too. Which means he must feel incredibly vulnerable, or this is where he felt the most safe.
He refuses to believe he feels vulnerable. You're never safer than when you're a teenager and convinced you're invincible.
"Don't you dare die on me, Bastian. Don't you dare leave us. You and me, against the world, back to back fighting them off. You promised. I need you. Stella and Brando need you." She sounds older now. More like the Izzy that is waiting for him to open his eyes. "You need us too."
He doesn't flinch at it, but it cuts deep too. That had been his reason for trying not to allow himself to care too much about her. That had been his reason for fighting becoming a father as hard and long as he had. He didn't want anyone to need him, and he damn sure didn't want to need them. He'd buried his parents when he was still a kid. He'd made a promise to himself, long before he promised Isabel anything, that he would never need anyone again.
Man, was lying genetic? He could give Sev a run for his money.
"I have a recipe for duck pate and am not afraid to use it, Bastian. Don't try me."
It's the last words he hears from her. When he spins around to give her a horrified look, she's gone, and in her place is a seventeen year old Isaiah Rookwood, complete with Slytherin school robes and a smirk on his face.
"She'll use it, you know. And Dad? He'll ask for seconds. You sure you're really an eagle? This coma..." He looks bored as he gestures to the scene around them. They're in Bastian's garage. "It has the dramatic flare usually reserved for lions, don't you think?"
"Why are you here and as a teenager? I lived this nightmare first hand. One time through your adolescence was enough for me." Bastian folds his arms across his chest as he levels his gaze at the younger brother who now looks entirely too young and innocent.
"Did you not pay attention to when your uncle was here? This is your party. We're just the guests." His hands strokes the newly waxed Spyder convertible that had been a gift from Severus. "Do I get this if you puss out and die? It's a sweet ride."
"No."
"I don't think you'll get a vote. Unless you left a will leaving it to someone specifically."
"He won't let you have it." Bastian's words are edgier than he normally sounds with Saiah. Well, how he sounds with him now. It's exactly as edgy as they were when he was fighting so hard to get the kid through graduation. "So, she threatens my ducks, and you're here to stake claim on my cars?"
"Something like that. He'll drink again I bet. If he doesn't just roll over and die. Dad, he's weird isn't he?" Saiah is leaning against the car now and levels his gaze at his older brother. "He can handle the casualties, and even accept responsibility as long as it's not his house, not his kids. But now they're all his houses, and all his kids. If you die then who is he going to hold accountable? Man, one kid dead after following his instructions, and another grieving the loss of her brother and having to compete in the tournament. Odds aren't looking good for our family are they?"
"Shut up."
"Don't be selfish, Bastian. You don't have time to die. You still have work to do, and if you just give up then you may as well hang out and wait for Dad to come join you. Cause if he can't keep us safe? If he really believes that we're not able to fight our way through the bullshit to live another day? He's not going to have the strength to look after those other kids. They need him, more than we do right now, so wake up." He smirks as he slips behind the wheel of the car. "Or this is just the first of your cars that I'm going to claim as my own."
He only closes his eyes to count to thirty. It's mostly to keep him from killing his brother. When he opens his eyes, the cars and little brother are gone, and in their place is a teenage Stella with her mother's eyes and her father's smirk.
"I won't let him take your cars, Daddy."
He smiles at her. "That's my girl."
"I'm going to set them on fire instead."
"That's more your uncle Harry's style than yours, Stell." He really shouldn't have let Harry have so much influence with his daughter. "You're here to threaten me too?"
"No." She extends her hand as music fills the air. It's some Motown song that he used to sing to her when she was a baby and couldn't fall asleep. Back when he was telling himself that he wasn't a real dad. That she had some better option out there that would be stepping up to make his claim any time now. "Dance with me, Daddy."
Just like he had with his wife, he takes his daughter by the hand and pulls her close. She's so beautiful that he wonders sometimes if the tower idea isn't such a bad one. Then he remembers this is his kid. His kid would take the tower apart piece by piece because she would never allow herself to be caged up.
"I didn't expect our last dance to be so soon." She sounds sad. It breaks his heart.
"It's not our last dance, Stellllllllllllllllllllllllla." He says her name the way he had when she was little. The way it used to make her laugh and laugh because she was convinced her daddy was the funniest man who ever lived. The bravest and smartest and coolest guy in her life. No one could touch his place. He was a hero, he thinks, and realizes that all fathers are heroes to their children even if they didn't grow up with them.
He misses his dad still. It's been years since he burried him and his mother. He wanted to be just like him, and he achieved it to a degree. He's proud to be a Savage, and proud to be a Snape. Even if he doesn't actually say the latter very often, if at all.
"Then you should wake up, and dance with me." Her hands reach up and smush his cheeks together just as they have so many times throughout her childhood. "Otherwise, who is going to chase the boys away with a glare and their Muggle gun collection?"
Well. She has a point.
He's just about to tell her so when she winks at him and walks away. He wants to follow her. To tell her he's not ready to leave her either. Then he hears it. A low whistle of admiration. When he turns he finds a young man, about the age of sixteen, with a strong resemblance to Bastian and Isabel.
No.
Can't be.
The way he's admiring the car in front of him, a classic Mustang convertible, confirms his suspicions. This is his son. "Brando?"
"In the flesh. Well, sort of." There's a grin that is pure Izzy. "Though, if you keep stressing Mum out by doing the coma thing, I might make an appearance a little early. So, this is mine right?"
"It can be."
"Do you own it?"
"No, not yet." It's black and sleek. A perfect restoration. It would have taken months to get it right. "I think you and I will restore it together when you're older."
"I hope so. Cause, I have to tell you, Dad, I'm a little worried here. If you don't wake up, I'm potentially screwed. I mean, look at the hours Grandpa and Uncle Saiah work. That leaves Uncle Harry to be the dominant male influence in my life." He gives his father a concerned look. "I could potentially be sorted lion."
"No."
"It could happen."
"No."
"Then wake up."
And he does. Dark eyes flash open, as he struggles to correct his vision. Everything looks a bit hazy at first, but he can feel Izzy squeezing his hand. He can see his brother checking his vitals. He catches sight of the things his little brother left to make the room feel like home.
Home.
"So, tell me what I missed?"
What? Something besides his uncle Amy has to wake him up.
When? Now in grownhp6words
Why? Because he refuses to die if it means he has to spend eternity with Uncle Amycus.
Writing prompt: Explode by the Cardigans
"You can't distract me forever, Bastian," She whispers as his hand rests on the small of her back. They're dancing to Otis Redding in the living room of his first flat. Long blond hair cascades like spun gold over her shoulders. She's so young. So fucking young.
"I don't know what you mean." It's a lie. He knows exactly what she means. They have an unspoken ability to always know what the other means with words and actions.
She doesn't stop dancing. If anything, she holds him closer, as if she is afraid to let him go. Maybe she is. Maybe she's afraid that if he she lets go he'll wake up on the other side. "You promised."
"I know."
"You lied."
"Not when I made the promise."
The sound of her palm connecting with his cheek echoes off the walls. He blinks at her. It's not the first time she has slapped him. It always comes back to lies. If she can catch him in it she makes it clear that he better not lie again, or have the decency not to get caught at it. "Izzy.."
"Don't you Izzy me, Sebastian Savage. Don't you dare. You promised me that you'd be safe. You promised if I supported you in following your dad into this line of work after your mother BEGGED you not to do it, that you would prove her wrong. That you'd be fine."
It's the tears in her perfect blue eyes that cut deeper than words. Cut as deep as a wolf's claws into flesh.
There's a howl. He doesn't tremble. He just looks away from her. Unable to see her this young and vulnerable. Knowing that if she is a teenager here then he must be too. Which means he must feel incredibly vulnerable, or this is where he felt the most safe.
He refuses to believe he feels vulnerable. You're never safer than when you're a teenager and convinced you're invincible.
"Don't you dare die on me, Bastian. Don't you dare leave us. You and me, against the world, back to back fighting them off. You promised. I need you. Stella and Brando need you." She sounds older now. More like the Izzy that is waiting for him to open his eyes. "You need us too."
He doesn't flinch at it, but it cuts deep too. That had been his reason for trying not to allow himself to care too much about her. That had been his reason for fighting becoming a father as hard and long as he had. He didn't want anyone to need him, and he damn sure didn't want to need them. He'd buried his parents when he was still a kid. He'd made a promise to himself, long before he promised Isabel anything, that he would never need anyone again.
Man, was lying genetic? He could give Sev a run for his money.
"I have a recipe for duck pate and am not afraid to use it, Bastian. Don't try me."
It's the last words he hears from her. When he spins around to give her a horrified look, she's gone, and in her place is a seventeen year old Isaiah Rookwood, complete with Slytherin school robes and a smirk on his face.
"She'll use it, you know. And Dad? He'll ask for seconds. You sure you're really an eagle? This coma..." He looks bored as he gestures to the scene around them. They're in Bastian's garage. "It has the dramatic flare usually reserved for lions, don't you think?"
"Why are you here and as a teenager? I lived this nightmare first hand. One time through your adolescence was enough for me." Bastian folds his arms across his chest as he levels his gaze at the younger brother who now looks entirely too young and innocent.
"Did you not pay attention to when your uncle was here? This is your party. We're just the guests." His hands strokes the newly waxed Spyder convertible that had been a gift from Severus. "Do I get this if you puss out and die? It's a sweet ride."
"No."
"I don't think you'll get a vote. Unless you left a will leaving it to someone specifically."
"He won't let you have it." Bastian's words are edgier than he normally sounds with Saiah. Well, how he sounds with him now. It's exactly as edgy as they were when he was fighting so hard to get the kid through graduation. "So, she threatens my ducks, and you're here to stake claim on my cars?"
"Something like that. He'll drink again I bet. If he doesn't just roll over and die. Dad, he's weird isn't he?" Saiah is leaning against the car now and levels his gaze at his older brother. "He can handle the casualties, and even accept responsibility as long as it's not his house, not his kids. But now they're all his houses, and all his kids. If you die then who is he going to hold accountable? Man, one kid dead after following his instructions, and another grieving the loss of her brother and having to compete in the tournament. Odds aren't looking good for our family are they?"
"Shut up."
"Don't be selfish, Bastian. You don't have time to die. You still have work to do, and if you just give up then you may as well hang out and wait for Dad to come join you. Cause if he can't keep us safe? If he really believes that we're not able to fight our way through the bullshit to live another day? He's not going to have the strength to look after those other kids. They need him, more than we do right now, so wake up." He smirks as he slips behind the wheel of the car. "Or this is just the first of your cars that I'm going to claim as my own."
He only closes his eyes to count to thirty. It's mostly to keep him from killing his brother. When he opens his eyes, the cars and little brother are gone, and in their place is a teenage Stella with her mother's eyes and her father's smirk.
"I won't let him take your cars, Daddy."
He smiles at her. "That's my girl."
"I'm going to set them on fire instead."
"That's more your uncle Harry's style than yours, Stell." He really shouldn't have let Harry have so much influence with his daughter. "You're here to threaten me too?"
"No." She extends her hand as music fills the air. It's some Motown song that he used to sing to her when she was a baby and couldn't fall asleep. Back when he was telling himself that he wasn't a real dad. That she had some better option out there that would be stepping up to make his claim any time now. "Dance with me, Daddy."
Just like he had with his wife, he takes his daughter by the hand and pulls her close. She's so beautiful that he wonders sometimes if the tower idea isn't such a bad one. Then he remembers this is his kid. His kid would take the tower apart piece by piece because she would never allow herself to be caged up.
"I didn't expect our last dance to be so soon." She sounds sad. It breaks his heart.
"It's not our last dance, Stellllllllllllllllllllllllla." He says her name the way he had when she was little. The way it used to make her laugh and laugh because she was convinced her daddy was the funniest man who ever lived. The bravest and smartest and coolest guy in her life. No one could touch his place. He was a hero, he thinks, and realizes that all fathers are heroes to their children even if they didn't grow up with them.
He misses his dad still. It's been years since he burried him and his mother. He wanted to be just like him, and he achieved it to a degree. He's proud to be a Savage, and proud to be a Snape. Even if he doesn't actually say the latter very often, if at all.
"Then you should wake up, and dance with me." Her hands reach up and smush his cheeks together just as they have so many times throughout her childhood. "Otherwise, who is going to chase the boys away with a glare and their Muggle gun collection?"
Well. She has a point.
He's just about to tell her so when she winks at him and walks away. He wants to follow her. To tell her he's not ready to leave her either. Then he hears it. A low whistle of admiration. When he turns he finds a young man, about the age of sixteen, with a strong resemblance to Bastian and Isabel.
No.
Can't be.
The way he's admiring the car in front of him, a classic Mustang convertible, confirms his suspicions. This is his son. "Brando?"
"In the flesh. Well, sort of." There's a grin that is pure Izzy. "Though, if you keep stressing Mum out by doing the coma thing, I might make an appearance a little early. So, this is mine right?"
"It can be."
"Do you own it?"
"No, not yet." It's black and sleek. A perfect restoration. It would have taken months to get it right. "I think you and I will restore it together when you're older."
"I hope so. Cause, I have to tell you, Dad, I'm a little worried here. If you don't wake up, I'm potentially screwed. I mean, look at the hours Grandpa and Uncle Saiah work. That leaves Uncle Harry to be the dominant male influence in my life." He gives his father a concerned look. "I could potentially be sorted lion."
"No."
"It could happen."
"No."
"Then wake up."
And he does. Dark eyes flash open, as he struggles to correct his vision. Everything looks a bit hazy at first, but he can feel Izzy squeezing his hand. He can see his brother checking his vitals. He catches sight of the things his little brother left to make the room feel like home.
Home.
"So, tell me what I missed?"