Severus hated mistletoe. He stared at it for some time, wondering if the plant deserved the Reducto he so wanted to unleash upon it. Deciding against the waste of magic, he turned to walk away — only to freeze in his steps when the person he’d waited all day to see said, in tones of fond amusement — “Hello, Severus. Look. Mistletoe.”
I drew this for Snolidays Week Two @snapecelebration Prompt: Mistletoe.
Snape unintentionally wound up looking like Keanu Reeves in this one. That’s what I get for doing a 15 minute drawing. Anyway BYEEEE
ID: a drawn bust of Snape. inside his eyes is the reflection of mistletoe. Above him there is mistletoe peaking down from the ceiling. /end ID.
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Severus Snape was a private man by nature. He’d never particularly enjoyed the sensation of being watched; this had been compounded by his life as a spy. It was like a sixth sense; he always knew when someone was staring at him. And it was this exact feeling — a prickling of his skin — that made him look up from the thick ancient tome he’d been reading.
A gaggle of three women, and one man, and two persons of unidentified gender, were gathered round a table at the opposite end of the Leaky Cauldron. All of them had their faces turned towards him, with expressions akin to hunger.
Disturbed but refusing to show it externally, and with the intention of returning to his book about the properties of aconite in healing potions, Snape pushed his fine reading glasses back up to the bridge of his nose with one long, slender finger.
Someone in the room let out a noise similar to a moan.
Snape’s eyes flicked upward briefly. In the Leaky Cauldron it was not unheard of for whores to be brought in on occasion — but no. No whores in sight. Only that strange group of individuals, who hadn’t ceased their whispering and giggling.
He frowned deeply, and returned to his book again, once more pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose. He felt the beginnings of a powerful headache coming on. Was his hair tied back too tightly, perhaps?
In an effort to relieve the tension in his temples, he waved his hand to vanish the ribbon that had been holding his hair up. Now, his black locks fell about his face. Traces of silver were in his hair now — to his disgust, his own apparent agelessness had ended at the Battle of Hogwarts. He was getting old.
This time multiple sighs and whimpers came from the table.
He raised an eyebrow and pointedly ignored them. Strange lot, he reflected to himself. Either they are coping with the aftermath of an arousal charm, or this is their attempt at foreplay prior to an inevitable orgy by the end of the night. Or perhaps they are suffering of indigestion?
He contemplated getting up and offering them a potion for stomach pain, but then decided against it. After staring at them for a moment longer, he looked back at his book, without seeing the page.
People were becoming much too friendly these days. Since the war had ended and he had moved into the Leaky Cauldron, wizarding folk and magical beings alike had come to him for discussions or autographs — and he rather dreaded the idea that the world was no longer intimidated by Severus Snape.
He ran his finger along his chin, then bit the tip of it, deep in thought.
Another disgusting noise rose up from the gaggle at that wooden table over there. He removed the finger from his mouth and glared at them. Then, silently, he flagged down the barkeep, Tom.
“Tom, would it be possible to place a sound muffling charm around those…. people?” he said, pointing at the gaggle of six.
“‘Fraid not, Master Snape. ‘Gainst house policy, sir.”
Snape sighed. “Indeed.” He paused. “What on earth is their affliction? You have heard the repulsive sounds they have been making, haven’t you?” Snape looked up at Tom, who was standing to the left of the armchair where the potions master was sitting.
“Well sir,” said Tom hesitantly, “If you don’ mind me saying, Master Snape — begging your pardon an’ that — I believe it’s them readin’ glasses o’ yourn.”
“My what?”
“Them readin’ glasses—”
“Of mine, yes, I heard you the first time.”
Tom shrugged and continued polishing the glass he held in his hands.
Snape looked into space, a frown marring his brow. “My glasses?” Why the devil should my glasses inspire such nauseating behavior?, he thought.
“Well, sir,” replied Tom, for it seemed to his horror that Severus had spoken aloud without meaning to, “If you don’t mind me sayin’, Master Snape—” he broke off, and coughed a bit uncomfortably. “Business has been through the roof since you came ‘ere, sir. Folks’ll come just to see what you get up to of an evenin’. Admirers and that, if you catch my drift, sir.”
Snape’s expression grew immediately slack. “If you are lying to me, Tom, I will hex you six ways from Sunday.”
“Not at all, Master Snape. See there, that one lady’s been peerin’ at you all night, the way you might look at a plum puddin’ —”
Snape closed his eyes. “Tom.”
“— or one of them ice cream cakes Fortescue’s been turnin’ out recently—”
“Tom.”
“Dead good, them,” said the innkeeper blissfully, pausing in his act of polishing the ever-present glass. “‘Specially the chocolate an’ strawberry ones.”
Snape sighed and put his head in his hands. He listened to the squeaking sound of the tea towel rubbing against the thick glass of the beer tumbler for a moment. And then, after a few more seconds, Snape shut his book with a snap, stood up in one fluid movement, adjusted the silk scarf that he’d taken to wearing in order to hide the mass of scars on his throat.
He peered down his spectacles, and for a moment he looked startlingly like Albus Dumbledore.
“Well. In that case. Far be it from me to tell them off, Tom. And if it assists your business…?”
“It do, sir, it do.”
“Then I shall leave them, as the Muggles say, to it.”
He bowed slightly towards Tom. He looked toward the small group of nosey individuals and after the briefest moments of hesitation gave them a slight ironic bow, and then left the room, without looking to observe the chaos which had ensued following his exit.
After his bow in their direction, one individual of indeterminate gender had fallen off their chair, while the man next to him made a high-pitched screeching noise like a boiling kettle. The other person of ambiguous gender bit their lip and moaned; the three remaining women all giggled and sighed.
“Lads. Lasses. I have to be honest with ye. Those reading glasses are doing things to me,” said the man who’d made the kettle-boiling noise, fanning himself with his right hand.
The others all made humming noises of assent and nodded.
Tom looked at them for a moment longer, then, letting out a chuckle, he went back to the bar to serve three people who had just walked through the door.
“Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron,” said Tom, eyes twinkling. “A room for three?”
The gaunt-looking individuals nodded morosely. All three, while richly dressed and elegant in appearance, seemed ill, exhausted, pale and generally unhealthy.
“Lookin’ a bit peaky tonight, aren’t we lads. Tough day at work?”
One of the three gave a sad hissing sigh in confirmation. Tom looked at them sympathetically.
“Shall I send up a gallon or two of blood to yer chambers, then? On the house?”
At this, the vampires perked up, and offered him more Galleons for the night, which he cheerfully declined.
Once they were set up in their accommodations, he left the happy vampires to their own devices and went back downstairs.
Deftly, he washed his hands at the sink by the bar and watched the red liquid swirl down the drain. He dried his hands on his apron. Then, chuckling, Tom picked up a clean beer tumbler and his tea towel, and got back to polishing, all the while observing the comings and goings of his patrons and clients.
Yes, thought the innkeeper to himself. It was a good thing that Snape had lived. And that he’d come to the Leaky Cauldron…. And that he’d brought those reading glasses with him.
What do you think Snape's Patronus would be if he didn't have the doe? What animal do you think best represents him? I like to compare other people's thoughts with mine.
Hiiii Del!!! Missed you tons!!!
That is an excellent question and I think it would either be a blackbird, a raven, a fox, or a big cat (panther etc). What you you think?
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What do you think is Snape's opinion on flying, brooms and Quidditch?
I think he secretly loves the sport but also he can fly unaided, on his own, like a bat out of a cave so idk. But I think he’d be extremely good at broom flight. I think he’d have made a point of excelling at as many subjects as possible at Hogwarts.
