Fic Post
Title: The Price of a (Rabbit's) Name
Category: One (1- to 10-years-old)
Pairings: Tobias/Eileen, Snape/Harry
Author: jin_fenghuang
Beta Readers: cadesama, lesyeuxverts00, and eeyore9990
Rating: PG
(Highlight to View) Warning(s): None.
Word Count: 2200
Summary: There is no greater joy than listening to childhood stories when visiting the spouse's parents.
The couch groaned when Harry shifted on its overstuffed floral upholstery. Snape and his mum were arguing in the kitchen over which blend to serve and, more importantly, the best way to prepare said tea. Some things seemed hereditary.
It had taken Harry over five years to nag Severus into having him meet his parents, and since he would have to pay for it dearly later, Harry was dead-set to enjoy every minute of it now.
The parlour was actually quite cosy; soft light filtered through embroidered curtains, leaving a faint outline of sheep and clouds wandering across the floor. A fat Siamese cat was sleeping on the window sill surrounded by picture frames, its tail wound around a plethora of ornaments.
The argument in the kitchen was disrupted by the shrill shriek of a boiling kettle, startling the cat in its mid afternoon nap. A very undignified feline flail and a sprinted retreat across the room and up the stairs later, several of the framed photographs lay in pieces on the floor.
Restoring one of the undamaged ones to its place on the sill, Harry was about to cast a quick Reparo when both Snape and his mother poked their heads in from the kitchen.
Mrs Snape wiped her hands on her apron, her eyes searching the room in mild alarm. "Is Gilderoy okay?"
Harry gave Severus a puzzled glance.
"She named the cat Gilderoy."
"No need to sneer at me, son. I do recall a certain rabbit..."
"Mother, please! I was four."
Eileen leaned over the banister looking straight at her son, building up steam. "And never mind that he was your colleague for a year. A whole year, son, and you never once saw fit to ask him over for tea. And how many times did I ask you to have him sign a book?"
"Speaking of Gilderoy, he is probably hiding under your bed, upstairs."
Eileen gave her son a withering glare. "Well, I'd better check then, hadn't I?" The click of her sensible shoes disappeared up the stairs.
***
Harry picked up one of the photographs from the floor, careful not to cut his fingers on the shards. Snape stepped up behind him, gently taking the picture out of his hands and casting Reparo on it.
"A rabbit, huh?" Harry leaned back against Snape's solid form.
Snape, ignoring the comment, put the photo down on the mantle, reaching for another a bit to his left. "Look, this one has your mother in it." He ran his finger lovingly over the dusty glass, holding it so that Harry could see.
At the centre of the yellowing photograph was a rickety kitchen table. A little boy, green paper hat on his dark hair, sat with his face turned away from the camera, staring into the setting winter sun. A balloon had been tied to the back of his chair. Paper-plates and party hats sat neatly spaced around a lopsided birthday cake; bright blue icing declared him nine. One piece had been cut but sat uneaten on the boy's plate.
A much younger Eileen walked into the picture, ruffling her son's hair, leaning down to whisper something into his ear. The boy turned, shaking his head, tear-stains red on his pale complexion.
Harry reached behind himself, lacing his fingers with Snape's, gently squeezing them.
"It was past dinnertime; Mum wanted to clear the cake away, but I wouldn't let her. I remember her helping me write the invitations in bright markers. No one came."
Snape squeezed back.
"What about my mum, not even her?"
Snape nudged him, returning his focus to the picture. The kitchen door was open now and a red-headed little girl in a bright yellow pea-coat was holding onto the door handle, her nose red from the cold.
The joy spreading across the boy's face was infectious. Harry found himself grinning along with him as he raced over to exuberantly hug his friend.
"I thought she would not come, either. Later she told me that her parents had forbidden her to. Too far away, they had said, too dangerous. She had snuck out after dinner. Got in a lot of trouble for it later, too, even though Da drove her home."
Harry gently took the photograph from Snape's hand and put it back down on the mantle.
"I am glad she did. Come, I mean." Fidgeting, Harry picked another photograph at random. "What about this one?"
Snape groaned and tried to snatch it from him.
A toddler in a stripy romper sat on a bath towel, picking up strawberries from a bowl in front of him. Pudgy little fingers squeezed the ripe fruit before stuffing it into the general direction of his mouth.
Harry tried to look innocent, surreptitiously keeping the frame out of Severus' reach. "Say, do you think your mum would make me a copy?"
"She might, if you ask her nicely." Mrs Snape, a contently meowing cat cradled in her arms, carefully made her way down the stairs.
"Not if I Incendio it first." Severus grumped, trying to pocket the picture.
Eileen flicked her wand and it jumped out of Snape's hand and back onto its place on the window sill. "You do that and I will tell Harry the bunny story."
"Mother, I really do not think..."
"Severus, be a good boy and tell your father that tea is ready. He is with his pigeons. Make him wash up first, will you." Depositing Gilderoy on his fluffy pillow, she ran her hands over her cardigan, brushing away errant cat hair.
"Oh my, I remember that one. Strawberries everywhere..." She ran a finger lovingly over the glass before picking up another. "But this," she handed it to Harry, "is the one I wanted you to see."
On a roll-out bed with Batman sheets, a little boy in his underwear was jumping up and down. A black suit jacket was wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. Each creaky jump pushed him higher and higher, with his skinny arms flailing and his hair wild. It seemed like an invisible breath carried him, let him hover a tiny bit longer in mid-air than physics should allow.
"Had to nearly Petrify him to get that damn coat off him. He can fly, you know. Without a broom. Used to sneak out of the house that way. His Da nearly had a heart attack when he caught him one night, too."
"I have seen him fly, once, during the war. It was pretty impressive."
"Is that how you two met? During the war?"
"You could say that."
Eileen gave him a speculative glance. "Weren't you one of his students? You seem the right age. You did go to Hogwarts, didn't you?"
"Yes, I was but... I mean, we weren't back then. He didn't even like me then."
"Interesting, you know you do look familiar..."
***
The conversation stopped when Snape entered the room from the kitchen carrying the tea tray.
"Da says he will be right in." He raised an eyebrow at their sudden silence but refrained from asking.
Mr Snape did show, about ten minutes later, muddy Wellingtons quickly replaced by worn carpet slippers with one pointed glance from his wife. Harry tried not to wince when his hand was crushed in greeting.
"Nice to finally meet you, sir." He looked up, meeting Snape senior's stern gaze. That nose certainly was patrilineal.
Tobias Snape sat down on what was very definitely his chair. Worn brown upholstery without a trace of chintz or anything frilly. The whole house, Harry noted, had a feeling of 'mine and thine' to it. The kind that reminded Harry a bit of the Hogwarts' dorms, where, even though you got along well enough on most days, your sock on my trunk could irreparably blow the fragile peace treaty established during years of cohabitation.
***
"So, what do you do for a living, Harry?"
Harry grinned; he knew the answer to this one. Not that he had rehearsed, or anything. "I am a police officer, sir."
"Hah!" Mr Snape took a sip of his tea and nodded in approval. "Good job that is, copper. Real job. Our Severus wanted to be copper too, when he was young. Good job that is."
"I have a real job, too, Da." Snape's spoon hit the table with a clang.
Mr Snape snorted into his cup and mumbled something that sounded like 'not even sure that place is real'.
Realizing what minefield he had entered Harry grasped for something to say. "Your wife said you breed homing pigeons."
"Yes, why don't you show Harry your flying ... pets?"
"They are not pets, woman. They are useful, unlike that fat menace of yours."
"Gilderoy is not fat. He is fluffy."
"I will help you with the dishes, Mum. Why don't you go on and show Harry the birds?"
It was a perfect English afternoon, the rain just this side of drizzle. Harry pretended to tighten his shoelaces, casting a wandless water-repelling charm on his clothes instead. In the misty grey of the afternoon, he could barely make out the cheerful yellow plastic of a public playground slide up on a nearby hill.
Tobias was waiting for him on the muddy path that wound through a narrow overgrown garden, gesturing for him to hurry up. Harry popped his collar and shoved his hands into his coat pockets. There was only so much even magic could do.
Halfway down the path, Tobias abruptly stopped, pointing to a hedge-like growth of thorny vines hanging over the garden wall.
"Severus and that little friend of his built a fort there one summer. Ruined his mum's brambles, that is for sure. Cut a cave right smack in the middle, the little brats."
A wooden sign peeked out between the man-high thorny tendrils, letters faded with age and weather.
"Put up a sign, too: NO MUGGLES!" Even after all these years, Tobias sounded affronted, ready to give a certain boy a righteous smacking.
Harry craned his neck, trying to make out the remnants of the cave in the hedgerow.
Tobias shrugged. "Been wanting to take care of that for ages. Maybe build another shed." Taking a pack of filterless cigarettes from his coat pocket, he lit one. "Never got 'round to it." He stepped off the path and started pulling at the weeds. "Garden sure could do with some cleaning up..."
Two steps off the path, Harry watched Tobias straighten his back, a blank expression on his face, his voice monotone. "I should go and feed the birds."
Harry gave the thicket a curious glance and hurried after Tobias.
***
Three quarters of an hour later, Harry had sufficiently admired enough homing pigeons to last him for the rest of his life. He had also somehow been roped into helping straighten up the garden come autumn. Escaping the shed before Tobias managed to talk him into further home improvements, he found himself back in the living room sipping hot tea and cooing over baby-photos with a very talkative Eileen at his side.
Snape was on his third beer - Gilderoy curled up on his lap - silently suffering behind yesterday's paper.
Eileen turned a page, pointing to a picture where a ten months old Severus was toddling along on his father's hand, dragging a huge stuffed bunny rabbit. Telling a story to each photo that struck her fancy, she was currently in the middle of the tale about how Severus used to drag that bunny everywhere and would throw a fit when she tried to wash it.
Snape closed his paper with an angry snap. "I think it is getting late."
"But surely you will stay for dinner. I already put the stew on. It should be ready any minute." Eileen gave Harry a winning smile. "All that needs doing is cutting up some carrots."
Snape frantically gestured "no" behind her back.
"I am really sorry, Mrs Snape, but we already have a dinner invitation." Harry gave Snape a mischievous grin. "But I was wondering, would you mind if I borrowed the photo album?"
***
The photos safely in his pocket, even though Severus had courteously offered to carry them for him, they waved Snape's parents good bye.
Harry wound his arm around Severus' waist, getting ready to side-along home. "You know, you never told me the name of your pet bunny."
Snape turned towards Harry, locking eyes with him, and smirked. "You really want to know?"
Harry nodded.
"Better practice your Legilimency then, shouldn't you?"
"Or I could ask your mum."
"You wouldn't dare..."
"Convince me not to."
"How so?" Snape's tone of voice hinting at interesting possibilities.
"Later, in bed ..." Harry pulled Snape into a kiss, Apparating them home. "You could tell me the stories that go with the photos."
Category: One (1- to 10-years-old)
Pairings: Tobias/Eileen, Snape/Harry
Author: jin_fenghuang
Beta Readers: cadesama, lesyeuxverts00, and eeyore9990
Rating: PG
(Highlight to View) Warning(s): None.
Word Count: 2200
Summary: There is no greater joy than listening to childhood stories when visiting the spouse's parents.
The couch groaned when Harry shifted on its overstuffed floral upholstery. Snape and his mum were arguing in the kitchen over which blend to serve and, more importantly, the best way to prepare said tea. Some things seemed hereditary.
It had taken Harry over five years to nag Severus into having him meet his parents, and since he would have to pay for it dearly later, Harry was dead-set to enjoy every minute of it now.
The parlour was actually quite cosy; soft light filtered through embroidered curtains, leaving a faint outline of sheep and clouds wandering across the floor. A fat Siamese cat was sleeping on the window sill surrounded by picture frames, its tail wound around a plethora of ornaments.
The argument in the kitchen was disrupted by the shrill shriek of a boiling kettle, startling the cat in its mid afternoon nap. A very undignified feline flail and a sprinted retreat across the room and up the stairs later, several of the framed photographs lay in pieces on the floor.
Restoring one of the undamaged ones to its place on the sill, Harry was about to cast a quick Reparo when both Snape and his mother poked their heads in from the kitchen.
Mrs Snape wiped her hands on her apron, her eyes searching the room in mild alarm. "Is Gilderoy okay?"
Harry gave Severus a puzzled glance.
"She named the cat Gilderoy."
"No need to sneer at me, son. I do recall a certain rabbit..."
"Mother, please! I was four."
Eileen leaned over the banister looking straight at her son, building up steam. "And never mind that he was your colleague for a year. A whole year, son, and you never once saw fit to ask him over for tea. And how many times did I ask you to have him sign a book?"
"Speaking of Gilderoy, he is probably hiding under your bed, upstairs."
Eileen gave her son a withering glare. "Well, I'd better check then, hadn't I?" The click of her sensible shoes disappeared up the stairs.
***
Harry picked up one of the photographs from the floor, careful not to cut his fingers on the shards. Snape stepped up behind him, gently taking the picture out of his hands and casting Reparo on it.
"A rabbit, huh?" Harry leaned back against Snape's solid form.
Snape, ignoring the comment, put the photo down on the mantle, reaching for another a bit to his left. "Look, this one has your mother in it." He ran his finger lovingly over the dusty glass, holding it so that Harry could see.
At the centre of the yellowing photograph was a rickety kitchen table. A little boy, green paper hat on his dark hair, sat with his face turned away from the camera, staring into the setting winter sun. A balloon had been tied to the back of his chair. Paper-plates and party hats sat neatly spaced around a lopsided birthday cake; bright blue icing declared him nine. One piece had been cut but sat uneaten on the boy's plate.
A much younger Eileen walked into the picture, ruffling her son's hair, leaning down to whisper something into his ear. The boy turned, shaking his head, tear-stains red on his pale complexion.
Harry reached behind himself, lacing his fingers with Snape's, gently squeezing them.
"It was past dinnertime; Mum wanted to clear the cake away, but I wouldn't let her. I remember her helping me write the invitations in bright markers. No one came."
Snape squeezed back.
"What about my mum, not even her?"
Snape nudged him, returning his focus to the picture. The kitchen door was open now and a red-headed little girl in a bright yellow pea-coat was holding onto the door handle, her nose red from the cold.
The joy spreading across the boy's face was infectious. Harry found himself grinning along with him as he raced over to exuberantly hug his friend.
"I thought she would not come, either. Later she told me that her parents had forbidden her to. Too far away, they had said, too dangerous. She had snuck out after dinner. Got in a lot of trouble for it later, too, even though Da drove her home."
Harry gently took the photograph from Snape's hand and put it back down on the mantle.
"I am glad she did. Come, I mean." Fidgeting, Harry picked another photograph at random. "What about this one?"
Snape groaned and tried to snatch it from him.
A toddler in a stripy romper sat on a bath towel, picking up strawberries from a bowl in front of him. Pudgy little fingers squeezed the ripe fruit before stuffing it into the general direction of his mouth.
Harry tried to look innocent, surreptitiously keeping the frame out of Severus' reach. "Say, do you think your mum would make me a copy?"
"She might, if you ask her nicely." Mrs Snape, a contently meowing cat cradled in her arms, carefully made her way down the stairs.
"Not if I Incendio it first." Severus grumped, trying to pocket the picture.
Eileen flicked her wand and it jumped out of Snape's hand and back onto its place on the window sill. "You do that and I will tell Harry the bunny story."
"Mother, I really do not think..."
"Severus, be a good boy and tell your father that tea is ready. He is with his pigeons. Make him wash up first, will you." Depositing Gilderoy on his fluffy pillow, she ran her hands over her cardigan, brushing away errant cat hair.
"Oh my, I remember that one. Strawberries everywhere..." She ran a finger lovingly over the glass before picking up another. "But this," she handed it to Harry, "is the one I wanted you to see."
On a roll-out bed with Batman sheets, a little boy in his underwear was jumping up and down. A black suit jacket was wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. Each creaky jump pushed him higher and higher, with his skinny arms flailing and his hair wild. It seemed like an invisible breath carried him, let him hover a tiny bit longer in mid-air than physics should allow.
"Had to nearly Petrify him to get that damn coat off him. He can fly, you know. Without a broom. Used to sneak out of the house that way. His Da nearly had a heart attack when he caught him one night, too."
"I have seen him fly, once, during the war. It was pretty impressive."
"Is that how you two met? During the war?"
"You could say that."
Eileen gave him a speculative glance. "Weren't you one of his students? You seem the right age. You did go to Hogwarts, didn't you?"
"Yes, I was but... I mean, we weren't back then. He didn't even like me then."
"Interesting, you know you do look familiar..."
***
The conversation stopped when Snape entered the room from the kitchen carrying the tea tray.
"Da says he will be right in." He raised an eyebrow at their sudden silence but refrained from asking.
Mr Snape did show, about ten minutes later, muddy Wellingtons quickly replaced by worn carpet slippers with one pointed glance from his wife. Harry tried not to wince when his hand was crushed in greeting.
"Nice to finally meet you, sir." He looked up, meeting Snape senior's stern gaze. That nose certainly was patrilineal.
Tobias Snape sat down on what was very definitely his chair. Worn brown upholstery without a trace of chintz or anything frilly. The whole house, Harry noted, had a feeling of 'mine and thine' to it. The kind that reminded Harry a bit of the Hogwarts' dorms, where, even though you got along well enough on most days, your sock on my trunk could irreparably blow the fragile peace treaty established during years of cohabitation.
***
"So, what do you do for a living, Harry?"
Harry grinned; he knew the answer to this one. Not that he had rehearsed, or anything. "I am a police officer, sir."
"Hah!" Mr Snape took a sip of his tea and nodded in approval. "Good job that is, copper. Real job. Our Severus wanted to be copper too, when he was young. Good job that is."
"I have a real job, too, Da." Snape's spoon hit the table with a clang.
Mr Snape snorted into his cup and mumbled something that sounded like 'not even sure that place is real'.
Realizing what minefield he had entered Harry grasped for something to say. "Your wife said you breed homing pigeons."
"Yes, why don't you show Harry your flying ... pets?"
"They are not pets, woman. They are useful, unlike that fat menace of yours."
"Gilderoy is not fat. He is fluffy."
"I will help you with the dishes, Mum. Why don't you go on and show Harry the birds?"
It was a perfect English afternoon, the rain just this side of drizzle. Harry pretended to tighten his shoelaces, casting a wandless water-repelling charm on his clothes instead. In the misty grey of the afternoon, he could barely make out the cheerful yellow plastic of a public playground slide up on a nearby hill.
Tobias was waiting for him on the muddy path that wound through a narrow overgrown garden, gesturing for him to hurry up. Harry popped his collar and shoved his hands into his coat pockets. There was only so much even magic could do.
Halfway down the path, Tobias abruptly stopped, pointing to a hedge-like growth of thorny vines hanging over the garden wall.
"Severus and that little friend of his built a fort there one summer. Ruined his mum's brambles, that is for sure. Cut a cave right smack in the middle, the little brats."
A wooden sign peeked out between the man-high thorny tendrils, letters faded with age and weather.
"Put up a sign, too: NO MUGGLES!" Even after all these years, Tobias sounded affronted, ready to give a certain boy a righteous smacking.
Harry craned his neck, trying to make out the remnants of the cave in the hedgerow.
Tobias shrugged. "Been wanting to take care of that for ages. Maybe build another shed." Taking a pack of filterless cigarettes from his coat pocket, he lit one. "Never got 'round to it." He stepped off the path and started pulling at the weeds. "Garden sure could do with some cleaning up..."
Two steps off the path, Harry watched Tobias straighten his back, a blank expression on his face, his voice monotone. "I should go and feed the birds."
Harry gave the thicket a curious glance and hurried after Tobias.
***
Three quarters of an hour later, Harry had sufficiently admired enough homing pigeons to last him for the rest of his life. He had also somehow been roped into helping straighten up the garden come autumn. Escaping the shed before Tobias managed to talk him into further home improvements, he found himself back in the living room sipping hot tea and cooing over baby-photos with a very talkative Eileen at his side.
Snape was on his third beer - Gilderoy curled up on his lap - silently suffering behind yesterday's paper.
Eileen turned a page, pointing to a picture where a ten months old Severus was toddling along on his father's hand, dragging a huge stuffed bunny rabbit. Telling a story to each photo that struck her fancy, she was currently in the middle of the tale about how Severus used to drag that bunny everywhere and would throw a fit when she tried to wash it.
Snape closed his paper with an angry snap. "I think it is getting late."
"But surely you will stay for dinner. I already put the stew on. It should be ready any minute." Eileen gave Harry a winning smile. "All that needs doing is cutting up some carrots."
Snape frantically gestured "no" behind her back.
"I am really sorry, Mrs Snape, but we already have a dinner invitation." Harry gave Snape a mischievous grin. "But I was wondering, would you mind if I borrowed the photo album?"
***
The photos safely in his pocket, even though Severus had courteously offered to carry them for him, they waved Snape's parents good bye.
Harry wound his arm around Severus' waist, getting ready to side-along home. "You know, you never told me the name of your pet bunny."
Snape turned towards Harry, locking eyes with him, and smirked. "You really want to know?"
Harry nodded.
"Better practice your Legilimency then, shouldn't you?"
"Or I could ask your mum."
"You wouldn't dare..."
"Convince me not to."
"How so?" Snape's tone of voice hinting at interesting possibilities.
"Later, in bed ..." Harry pulled Snape into a kiss, Apparating them home. "You could tell me the stories that go with the photos."