He took a slow sip of the ice tea in his hand. This was life, he decided. Simple. Little worries outside the mundane. Not that he even had to worry much over money matters, that was all taken care of. He stirred the straw around his glass, pondering the ratio of sugar to tea. As such as a Potions Master would, he guessed. Questioning himself, he looked at his surroundings. Everything was beautiful. Green. Lush. Simply wonderful, he mused.
Sitting on the porch in rural Georgia, nothing seemed better to him at the moment. He owned the land and the tiny house that sat on it. Severus sometimes joked that the porch was bigger than the house itself. Although he rarely had company over to tell his joke to. The only thing he did not have, and would not let himself buy, was a rocking chair. The idea was too picture-esque.
Too much for the grumpy Potions Master who was less grumpy than he used to be.
He combed through the newspapers, some Muggle, some from the wizarding world. He spotted an article over the Golden Trio. Everything seemed to be doing well, he thought, in a world without Dumbledore, without Voldemort. This made him happy. He could retire in peace, happy to only serve himself as Master. The time outside transformed his appearance little but a weight had been lifted off him nonetheless. He routinely worked in a garden, producing vegetables but also high quality potion ingredients in a greenhouse. It was charmed against muggles and wizards alike, in case curious teenagers got too close for his liking. His paranoia won out after several sleepless nights.
Outside of his greenhouse, nothing seemed to out of the ordinary. His house was kept neat and sparse. He did not bother employing help for anything. He was content. There was even a cat and dog duo who often stopped for a treat and affection on a semi-regular basis.
As if hearing his thoughts, they appeared from the brush. The nearest neighbors were a quarter mile in any direction. He wasn't sure where these two came from, maybe the neighbors, maybe elsewhere, but they were always happy to see him.
The cat, a striking brown and red color, always greeted him first. Purring, he nuzzled Severus's hand and struck up his petting time. The dog was female, and some shepherd mix was all Snape could guess. She was brown and gold, a regular mutt, but with gentle eyes. He guessed they were about the same age. Regardless, they were never apart. The cat's brilliant green eyes closed contently as he dutifully petted the creature. The dog curled up near by, closing her golden eyes to the world.
And that was how several of his afternoons went every month.
Things tend to change, often when they are least expected to do so.
This was one of those times.
Severus took pride in removing himself from the wizarding world. No one would think to look for Eileen Prince's son in the Muggle world, let alone rural Georgia. His cover was flawless. He took over another wizard's potion ingredient business, used the same title, and carried on while said wizard went about his ways. Snape believe the man was on an extended vacation in the Caribbean. His death was secure. No one would believe he was alive. Hell, the Golden Boy even cleared his name and allowed him to be awarded for his duties to society. He nearly choked on his morning tea when he saw those news headlines!
This Severus was a different creature than the one who dwelled at Hogwarts. That man lived two lives and served two masters. That man was nothing more than a shell. This Severus lived less in the shadows and more in the light. He even cut his hair. It was short now. He remembered when he asked the barber to cut and style his hair. The man gave him something of a celebrity look alike cut. Either way, it was different and new. Still new after two years of it, actually.
But life had more in store for Severus than a happy retirement brewing potions and growing ingredients.
He had stopped checking for tracking information on the letters and work orders he received. Laziness on his part, but he assumed no one would be looking for him. He should have known, seeing that handwriting, who it was. It looked so familiar but he dismissed it. He did teach a fair chunk of Britain's wizards and witches, several orders he received had familiar handwriting.
But this one really should have stayed with him. He filled it per usual and sent it off. Not another thought on the manner. And he didn't check for a tracker.
Maybe a month had gone by at this point, maybe a little less.
It was the day that he noticed that the cat and dog duo haven't visited in two weeks. It was also the day that he realized how much he'd come to enjoying their visits.
Then there was a knock on the door. None of his alarms had gone off. And there was a knock at his door.