Rest With Me

by drama-princess

A/N: The scene with Harry seeing Snape's mum and dad fascinated me ever since I first read it, and I wanted to write a short piece on the two of them. Sinistra decided she wanted to be in it, too, and really, who I am to argue with characters? All characters are property of one J.K. Rowling, though.

~-~


Dean hung a little old miniature of his mother up over the mantelpiece. Emily had never seen it before. Dean Priest's mother had been a beautiful woman.

But why does she look so sad?

Because she was married to a Priest, said Dean.

Will I look sad? teased Emily.

Not if it rests with me, said Dean.

~Emily Climbs, by L.M. Montgomery

~-~

Sev, who is this?

He barely spared a glance over at where Auriga Sinistra stood, rummaging idly through a box of old papers. Auriga may have somehow managed to worm her way into his life, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Or her.

Except that he did.

It was worse, though, because sometimes he found himself wishing that she would speak again to hear that soft, lilting voice, and imagine the way that her tired, slightly worn face would look when she turned to face him. Yes, she was probably the most foolish thing he'd ever had in his life, but he was tired, and so was she.

He didn't bother to think past that.

Who's who, Auriga? Don't get attached, he's probably dead.

A sort snort answered him. Ha, ha. No, this woman. The black-haired one. You don't have a sister, do you?

He froze, realizing exactly which box Auriga was pawing through. he said stiffly, putting the ground unicorn horn down. I do not have a sister.

Is she your mum, then? She looks a lot like you round the eyes. . . Severus? Her dark eyes had widened as she took in his stance. You okay?

He'd turned away from Auriga to look at his wardrobe. Do you think, perhaps, that Minerva will concede and allow me. . . he trailed off as Auriga put a hand on his arm. What now, Auriga?

She's beautiful, Auriga said quietly. Snape curled up his lip at Auriga's words. He knew what she was seeing, the smooth wings of dark hair, the enormous black eyes and the deadened look that hid behind those dusky lashes. Yes, Ismene Snape had been a lovely woman, as he recalled, but also a weak one. Unable to take her husband's adultery, she'd turned into a whimpering, pathetic creature secure in her own victimization. Well, it had worked.

So well that his father had murdered her in order to make way for his mistress.

She's dead, he answered swiftly, banishing those memories without so much as a grimace. And neither of us need concern ourselves with her.



He scowled darkly at her. Auriga, please, I am not in the mood.

She opened her mouth, undoubtedly to make a raunchy comment, but shut it after studying his expression. Her eyes shifted, and he was suddenly remembered Ismene's calmer moods. What is it?

Auriga, please, he bit out. Cease bothering me.

She looks sad, Auriga said, ignoring him and turning the photograph over in her hands.

She was married to a Snape, he snapped irritably back as he set down a glass flask so hard that a hairline crack appeared near the mouth.

Auriga's mouth twitched for a moment. He was reminded again of the contrast of dark hair to auburn curls, the thick glasses to the crystalline tears. Will I look sad?

We aren't married.

~-~

Mummy was crying again.

Severus edged a little closer to the elaborately carved headboard, nearer to the lump of silk white pillows. His mother's loose mane of raven hair streamed over the bedcovers, hiding her shoulder and face. He could still hear her crying, though, even over the gentle music that drifted in from the dining room.

he asked tentatively, putting his hands up on the bed.

His mother turned over in the bed, still crying a little as she picked Severus up and huddled close to him. He put a nervous finger on the pale skin of her forehead as she kissed his hair.



She kissed his cheek, his nose, his hair again.

Mummy, Father says to-- to--

She stiffened against him, and pushed herself up on the bed. He hid his face against her arm, smelling Mummy's perfume on her velvet jacket. Rose oil, Mummy had told him, letting him mix tiny, golden droplets into his potion. But something else, too, he thought, sniffing the air. Something too sweet, like candy that had sat out in the kitchen too long.

To what, Severus? Her voice was sharp. She tightened her hold on him and he squirmed, trying to calm Mummy down. To go in and bloody well serve that-- that-- trollop he's got in there with him? To go and play the obedient little wife? She reached over and took a gulp of some funny-smelling drink that lay by the bed.

To cease your infernal caterwauling and put the boy down, a cold, drawling voice answered her question. Severus froze as they both looked up to see He'll never get anywhere if you pamper him like that. Especially if you keep spending all the damn money on your silly perfumes and jewelry and goddamn clothes, Ismene. He sneered and glanced over at the goblet by the bed. But of course. . . you have to go and get thoroughly pissed as well. What a role model.

Mummy said something in a low, harsh voice.

Fuck off? Father said incredulously. He threw back his head and laughed, a rusty sound that hurt Severus's ears. Ismene, did you just-- get up. He strode forward, pushing Severus to the ground as he pulled Mummy up by the arm. Get up, Ismene, and act like a grown woman. He smirked at that, as if remembering some joke. But-- you-- a grown woman. Oh, that's amusing.

Severus began, tugging on his father's robes. Can you--

Get in the corner, Severus! his father roared, pushing him off with a harsh shove. A rather sinister smile began to play about his lips. Watch and see what Father does, Severus, and then you can tell me all about it afterwards.

What, are you going to teach him Unforgivables? Mummy asked snidely, taking an unsteady step forward and leering in Father's face. That's a nice trick-- a nice role model-- would serve you right if I called the Ministry, it would--

You stupid woman, his father silkily. At least Severus has the sense to appreciate what I do for this family.

Don't call me stupid-- Mummy cried, panting a little as she swayed back and forth. I'm not-- not stupid, I'm not. Least I can see when you're-- Here she muttered something that Severus couldn't quite hear, but he cringed back into his corner. Not again, he thought, putting his face in his hands and beginning to rock back and forth.

His father was silent for a minute. he hissed. Dare. You.

He took a huge step forward, his hooked nose appearing more malicious by the minute as he pressed it into Mummy's face. How DARE YOU, you ugly, you hideous, you useless waste of blood? His voice rose to a shriek as Mummy cowered back into the corner.

I-- I--

Don't plead with me, you-- you--

I-- I-- Severus? His mother's voice changed, became more pleading. Sweetheart, Severus, my baby-- not in front of him, now, wouldn't want to lose your temper in front of my baby, would you? Severus felt his mouth wobble as tears flooded his eyes. Not again, not the screaming and the fighting, always ending in Something Bad.

Shut up, you useless, no good, waste of a-- you'd be better off a Mudblood, you pathetic, cringing-- he hissed the words at her as she flinched back. Don't you dare use my son against me. Oh, I can see what you're doing-- I won't let you make him spineless.

Severus? Baby, come to Mummy. . .

Stay where you are, Severus!

A wand, that narrow strip of black wood, being pulled out from rustling black robes. . .



A howl of pain, his mother doubling over in the corner. . .

Shut up, Ismene! Severus. His father turned to him, his mouth still curled in an expression of disgust. Remember those sounds. Con-junc-itivia. Remember them.

~-~

He woke up feeling ill, and had to hold his breath for a few moments before the urge to vomit passed. The hold the past tried to trap you with was ridiculous. What was done was done, and Ismene and Vincent Snape were both long cold in their lonely graves.

The Dark Lord was dead, too.

With a quiet hiss, he turned over to look at Auriga. She was still asleep, of course-- the woman could snore through an attack on the castle, much less one of his nightmares. Grunting faintly, he took a measured breath, trying to release the emotions.

Empty his mind. That was why he had chosen to study Occlumency in the first place. He had never wanted anyone to use his weak, pathetic side as a weapon. He would never follow in Ismene's steps.

Not with a name like that, you wouldn't, Auriga said sleepily as she rolled back on top of him. Dreaming, of course. Yet, she was oddly skilled at answering his questions in the dead of night.

Either that or she was even more gifted at dumb luck than he suspected.

He put his arm around her, feeling a tiny wall crumble inside of him. Her frizzy hair was soft against his chest. It was too dangerous to live like this.

Will I look sad?

Auriga mumbled something about Jupiter and nearly hit him in the eye as she rolled over yet again. He glanced over at her thick glasses, at those mismatched socks, and at her small hands.

Auriga Sinistra really was a beautiful woman.

Not if it rests with me, he answered that memory definitely, smiling dryly at his own stupidity even as he bent down to kiss her shoulder.

Finis.





A/N: The entire contents of Gringotts if you waded through that melancholy mess.