In which all matters of import are strenuously avoided (except with future Ministers), and it is decided who is allowed to make cocoa and who is never ever ever allowed in the kitchen again because oh god help. Also who should never have been allowed to read Byron in the first place.
warnings: discussions of really very nasty violence and, at the other end of the spectrum, Evan's hedonism. Of which his roommate shamelessly takes advantage. Also nitpickery which would have been quite useful at the time. And Grenade Balm. And horrible Byron abuse. Basically a crawful of nauseating fluff.
Character Interviews!
This week's question theme is: Ask any of the characters about any of the Houses (not about individuals in the Houses, although characters might well go there on their own). It's fine to e.g. ask Minerva a question about Hufflepuff (though I'm not sure how well-thought-out an answer you'd get in that particular case if it didn't have to do with administration), and creative/cracky questions are encouraged. ^_^
Now and going forwards, 'any character' means any who's gotten to show who they are onscreen at some point in the series. I'm not including, eg, the newly-introduced Death Eaters from the last chapter; they haven't been on before and were being formal and public-face and Appropriate then. Well, Bella's public-face isn't all that formal or appropriate, but you get the idea.
If you want to ask Professor Snape a question, please specify what year's version you're asking—and be aware that I'm not giving spoilers here any more than anywhere else. Other teachers will answer from 1980, as they haven't changed their various approaches much since the '70s. Whether or not they ought to have. Yes, you may ask Spike and Professor Snape to both answer the same question. Because occlumency. :D
I'm also still happy to take questions for Severus and Evan about each other (whether they're happy is another matter), and follow-up questions are fine.
#18, Dye-Urn, Later
"Well," Evan toasted Severus with an amber glass when the door opened, "here we go."
"I thought you were an excellent-vintage-or-die-peasant man," Spike said, hanging up his summer cloak.
"I appreciate wine," he explained.
Spike winced, dropping down beside him. Ev was glad he'd cleaned himself up before sitting on the sofa (it saved him fussing about the suede later), but the way a spell did it did funny things to his hair. Or maybe it was that his potion soap weighed it down. Either way, it had gone frizzy and floaty now, and he didn't look in a mood to be smiled at about it or have it tugged on, which was no fun.
"Please don't start getting drunk for reasons other than fun," he said wearily. "You know why I hate that."
"Just marking the occasion," Evan assured him. "Want a glass? Or we can switch to tea, if you'd rather make some."
"Reggie's coming by once Bellatrix is finished with him…"
"Does she know that?"
"I expect she will."
"Then he won't be here till midnight, Spike. "
"She stalks in malice and in spite," Severus mused, with a gleeful if you knew how much fun I'm having right now you'd hit me glint, "And blood-drenched robes and hopeless cries, And all that's insecure and dark Covetous sparks from slaten eyes."
"…Yes, all right," Evan admitted reluctantly. "But I don't think 'slaten's a word."
"No," Severus admitted back. "I could have gone with 'tomb-grey,' but when eyes are called 'grey' it implies a lighter shade than that really odd almost charcoal color she has—"
"Really odd? Spike, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Englishmen don't have black eyes unless someone punches them."
"Well, there you are."
"…Oh, Spike."
Spike shrugged callously. "Normally 'green' eyes aren't the shade Lily's are, either, and red hair isn't as close to red as hers is; if it was any closer it would look dyed. Yours looks, in fact, like you spend as many hours at the salon getting what do you call them, highlights?"
"I do have good highlights," he agreed matter of factly, because he did. He was going to have to seriously bleach once he started going grey, unless Severus could make him some really excellent dye (and it would be Spike making it, because it would unquestionably be all Spike's fault). Going crystal-white like Dumbledore would be acceptable, that would be striking and dignified and he probably had the complexion to carry it off, but fading, or going patchy, ugh.
"Well, as much time on your hair as Lockhart does trying to imitate it."
"He does not. I mean, not to—no, that's, no."
Severus looked at him kindly, but didn't actually pat him on the head. Evan stared at him in repelled horror. "You really didn't know?"
"He doesn't look anything like me!" Ev protested.
"I know," Severus agreed, blandly radiating a whole universe of bwahahaha your fanboys are made of fail, "but he tries fearfully hard."
"He uses curlers! Reggie told me he uses curlers! I don't have curly hair!"
"It sort of waves a bit," Severus said analytically, and shrugged.
"He has short hair, Spike."
"Well, one doesn't care to be seen to be trying to imitate other people."
"Teeth!"
"They are freakish," Spike agreed with malicious cheer. "Positively Hollywood."
"…Is that a dryad thing?"
"Muggle American artificial mouth-torture cosmetic surgery thing which you don't want to know about and Bellatrix probably does but we shan't tell her."
"I… don't see and I'm now very pleased about it?"
"Precisely. And, back to sight, the sorts of blue eyes you and Dumbledore and Narcissa and Lockhart have are all equally unlikely to be what's usually meant when anyone talks about blue eyes. Then there's that odd silver-grey Luke and Draco have, and I swear to god there is no creature on earth over the age of five and without Veela blood with hair like Luke's, and have you noticed that the Dark Lord's eyes are so red a brown they're almost wine-colored in the right light? I thought it was a cider-color once, but actually it's very nearly burgundy. Clearly magic does odd things to coloration, there it is, give up."
"All right," Evan laughed, and swung his feet up onto Spike's knees. Predictably, they were shoved off with a rude gesture, but he persisted. If he had to give up, Spike did, too.
"As I was saying," Severus waved an airy hand, finally realizing his only way to save face was to ignore his roommate's feet with a modicum of grace (although Evan would have stopped if he'd really seemed bothered), "the tomb-bit makes one think matte when actually they've got that unceasing zealous glint. You get a bit of that with the slate, I suppose, as well, although that at least shines when it's wet… all right, I'll work on it."
"Not on my account," Ev begged, wincing at what would happen if Bella noticed him composing irreverent verse about her fanaticism in his head and came to an accurate-enough conclusion about his expression. "Why did you tell him to come, anyway? It could be two in the morning by the time Bella lets him go."
"Because he's only coming once Bellatrix lets him go."
"Good point, well made. I move we work up the perfect toddy to ply him with when he gets here."
"Suits me," Spike shrugged. And stole his glass.
"Hello," Evan remarked, grabbing for it back. He'd been a Seeker, damn it. Spike and his stupid spider arms.
"Wouldn't it have been more polite to say that when I got in?"
"And you'd know polite if it bit you," Evan made a face at him.
Spike bounced his eyebrows at Ev, his spine loosening as scotch warmed him. He seldom had more than a glass of cider or wine with supper, and he was just as likely to mix himself a shrub instead when they were at home. That and being chronically underfed made him a bit of a lightweight for his height, and certainly for someone who called himself a brewer. Especially when he wanted to be. Ev was unendingly amused by this—although he refused to sample the shrubs, considering voluntarily drinking vinegar to be a sign of clinical insanity (not that there weren't plenty of others).
"Try it and see, Polite," he invited. He wasn't actually smiling, or bouncing a Bludger in his hands, of course, but Ev could nearly see them both anyway.
By the time Neil Fudge had come up to complain about the thumping from the wrestling, and stayed for drinks-creation and somber discussion of the attacks, and gone away again, there was still no sign of Reggie. Ev, putting warming and re-filling charms on the four little tasting pitchers they'd put together, wasn't surprised. He fully expected Bella to keep Reg until he was half asleep, just to spite Spike.
"What was that look you gave Lucius about?" Evan asked later still, mostly to see if Severus was able to scrabble for consciousness after a long day and a long soak and several taste tests of hot whiskey drinks.
"Oh," said Severus, peeling his eyes open groggily. Ev kept forgetting how relaxed a fight or duel that didn't hurt anybody left him, although he didn't forget about Quidditch. "Well… if I can tell Narcissa that someone has to gossip with them and it's her or me, she might be more amenable to using the maternity healers instead of pretending it's a specialty I have."
As he'd thought. "That's my Naj," he said approvingly. "She's still going to make you double-check everything they do, though."
"At least until she decides they're competent," Spike allowed. "But I might be able to get her to go to them first and not haul me out of work by the hair all the time the moment Draco sneezes."
"Want me to encourage it?"
"I don't know," he said slowly. "I think she'd be quite pleased if I didn't have a work-week job. Thinks it's beneath all dignity. Pointing out she's jeopardizing it might make her do it more."
"I'll see if I can think of an angle," he promised.
"Speaking of angles," Spike said, levering himself up to a sitting position as gracefully as any rusty zombie.
"Yes," Evan said, also frowning. "That was… interesting."
"It's on the same lines he's always talked about," Spike said, slow and judicious. "Making a terror we could be the answer to. But the stepping-up is… sudden."
"Was it bad, at the hospital?"
The expression leeched out of Spike's face. He didn't put on a new one before burying said face in the sofa cushion again. Ev nodded a little, and just leaned against his back for what seemed like hours.
Eventually Severus asked, muffled, "Ever seen a crushing wound?" Evan shook his head, knowing Spike would hear his head move against the sofa, maybe even feel it, and understand. "Frostbite?" He shook his head again. "Good."
Ev thought about giants. "I've seen splinching wounds," he mentioned.
"Bits ripped off is messier," Severus said grimly, following his thoughts without difficulty. "Harder to fix, too."
Evan smiled a little, also grimly. "You want to stay home all day and brush up on your healing spells, don't you."
"I'd be amenable to staying just here all year," Severus said into the cushion. Ev thought he'd shifted just slightly closer, and put a hand on his shoulder. "But I'm more than ever committed to not having too much free time. Why now, do you think? Is something happening? Or coming up?"
"Lammas?" Evan offered. It didn't seem like a useful answer to him. "My parents want to know are we coming to theirs, by the way."
"I suppose it depends on whether Narcissa's planning a celebration," he said wearily.
"Might be a good excuse to only make a token appearance. We were good at Beltane, after all."
"That's a point, although I'm not sure getting glared at by your mum's much of an improvement to Bellatrix. Bellatrix can only kill me. Besides which, 'we' were not 'good.' I was well-behaved; you were a sodden disgrace."
He was trying to joke, so Evan only thumped him lightly and corrected, "You did a sterling impression of an professional mourner and I was fun. What about him?" he asked, with Meaningful Emphasis. "Has he given any signs he was planning something?"
"You know I've only seen him once this week, not counting tonight."
"Once more than me, Spike. And he's not so stiff and snooty with you. Come on, anything notable?"
"No," said Severus in a drawn out tone that meant yes-oh-yes-oh-yes. Evan waited. "Just…" Evan waited some more. "He's seemed restless? And he's been having headaches."
Evan had to pause to let that sink in. "He's been having them so that you could tell," he asked carefully, "or he's told you he has them?"
"There's a reason I had to make more Raveled Brow potion."
"I keep telling you, you should call it Troubled Brow. Your average Diagon-trawler isn't going to know what that means, and it's Raveled Sleeve anyway."
"Sod 'em."
"Yes, all right," Evan rolled his eyes, smiling. "You mean he's actually been asking you for potions?"
"He didn't actually ask… and it's just a step up from willowbark," Severus said, trying to be dismissive and not doing very well.
"Sure it is. And he's drinking potions given to him which he did not watch being prepared." He waited to see if Spike would argue that their Lord was not so scrupulously cautious and aloof that this was unusual. It didn't happen. "When did this start?"
"The first time I know of was right after I made the Felix. You'd been to that that dinner party of Reggie's," Severus said.
"Speaking of which," Evan noted, and, summoning their current book, tugged Spike up against him. He was usually the pillow, being larger in all dimensions, although they traded off more evenly on page turning and reading and holding the book up. "Unless you want to owl him to just go to bed…"
"Don't be stupid," Spike said, taking it and opening to the ribbon. "It's a good poem."
It was a good poem. Evan wasn't admitting it to anyone, but the way the spikiest, most vituperative fang in the snake pit (after Bast Lestrange, but Rabastan was actually toxic and Evan didn't want to be anywhere near him even on the most formal of occasions when he appeared to be behaving) only ever took about a minute and a half to relax against him was at least as smug-making as coaxing even the coyest of companions into bed, or even being coaxed.
It had probably been a tactical error, though, given that they fell-asleep-with-a-book on the sofa instead of in bed half the time anyway. In this case, Spike had (quite understandably, after working on ripped off limbs all day and then Dealing With Bella) started slurring back into his awful, flat, home-accent. Evan had taken the book away and started reading to him, instead, before he could notice it himself and get embarrassed and cranky.
As he should have predicted, the tradeoff for getting a warm, drowsy swot-blanket curling all into him like the avatar of trust was that the violent little twitch was so startled when Regulus came in that there was a certain amount of flailing bony elbow and knocking the couch over.
"I didn't think I ought to come this late," Reggie said mournfully when Spike had righted the furniture and glared his way to the bathroom for bruise balm. "Only Spike was so definite."
"Spike is always definite," Evan said. "You've got to be definite yourself to deal with him." Reggie drooped, and Evan mussed his hair. It sprang right back into place, of course. "No, you're welcome. We wanted you to come. Look, we made up drinks, just for you. I only mean you should trust your instincts more." He reconsidered. "But not around Bella. Then you should just go with it."
"That, I know," Reg said glumly, but then he glanced with interest at the table. "What do you mean, drinks just for me?"
"Let's try that again," Spike said, coming back with the pot of liniment, which he still insisted on calling Grenade Balm. "Evening, Reg."
"Hi, Spike. Sorry about startling—"
"Let us never speak of it again."
"Right," Reg agreed hastily. "What did you want me to come talk about?"
"I didn't," Spike said, banishing Evan's shirt with no nonsense and applying the pungent purple paste to his back with the gentlest hands in the world.
"Oh warm," Evan melted.
"I'm confused," demanded Reg.
"I just thought it might not be the best idea for you to go straight to bed after plotting…" he trailed off, and Evan knew he was thinking back to his day at the hospital. "I thought Bellatrix might have been unpleasant about having her nose rubbed in your working with me," he changed tacks.
"She's not jumping up and down clapping her hands in girlish delight," Reg admitted. "It's getting harder to make her think I mind. Er… Spike?"
"Mm?"
"Why does that smell like pineapples and lavender?"
"Why do you think?"
"…Really?"
"That's not all there is to it, of course," Severus said. "Arnica, chamomile, salamander bile, powdered tiger's eye. But once I'd decided to use pineapple, I thought lavender would be preferable to eucalyptus, for the aromatic."
Evan hummed happily.
"Tiger's eye like the animal or the stone?"
"The stone."
"Oh." Reg seemed relieved. "They're endangered, you know."
"So conscientious," Spike drawled, amused. "It's the stone."
Reg nodded. "Did you say something about drinks?"
"I made one myself," Evan mumbled into the arm of the couch.
"…That was very nice of you," Reg said, with a marked drop in enthusiasm. Evan considered taking offense. Not for long, though. Spike was still rubbing balm into his back, and he felt he was doing well not to drool.
He probably wasn't drooling.
"It's all right, I supervised," Severus said, comforting in his brisk way. "Anyway, I don't know if even Evan could ruin cocoa."
"Oh, yes he can," Reg said at once.
"I was nine," Ev protested thickly. He couldn't look indignant, though, because that would have required opening his eyes. He didn't need them to feel Spike perking with interest behind him.
"You didn't have a cold, Ev," Reg said patiently. "Your nose worked. The milk had gone off."
"I assumed any milk that was in the cold box was house-elf approved," Evan said with dignity.
"If it wasn't badly off," Spike suggested musingly, "it might have indeed been house-elf approved—as buttermilk. I'll show you a few things, sauces and salad dressings, maybe, next I shop. Even a cake if you're very good."
"And then you burned it."
"The book said it should be scalded. Scalded means burned. We have three thesaurii—"
"Thesauruses," Severus corrected, voice smiling though his face probably wasn't.
"…No."
"Really it is, Ev, dreadful but true."
"Lies."
"I regret."
"LIES, and scalded means burned and you can look it mmmmm." It was a minor point. He had no objection to being rubbed into submission. That was acceptable. Spike should be rewarded for using sneaky Slytherin tactics and not trying to shout everything into submission all the time. Success was a good reward. Ev could be magnanimous and trade a win that didn't matter for more backrub.
"And he couldn't reach the sugar, so he substituted a fizzing whizbee. And when that wasn't sweet enough, he started stirring it with a lollipop," Reg told Severus, grinning.
"They're sweet," he mumbled into the cushion.
"Whizbees. Active ingredient billiwig stings," Severus said faintly, voice tremulous an hands pausing.
"Sherbets are sweet," Evan said loftily, stubborn. There had been nothing wrong with his logic, rot it. Just because Spike had probably known every interaction under the sun by the age of two… "Lollipops are sweet. Sweets are, by definition, sweet. Being made of sugar. Which was out of reach."
"Only, the lollipop was blood-flavored. And then, when it was too hot right off the stove, he added an ice mouse…"
Evan realized the hands on his back had gone away. "…Spike?"
He sat up, and scowled. Spike had collapsed back over the other arm of the couch, laughing so hard he wasn't getting any air to laugh with. He couldn't manage words, but his hands made an explosive gesture quite efficiently.
"Boom," Reg confirmed, still grinning. "A very cold boom, and a very stripy ceiling. Linky said we were just lucky Sirius had a lolly in his pocket instead of a liquorice snap."
"Right," Evan said with more dignity yet, "neither of you is getting any of the hot buttered scotch."
"You didn't use goat butter, did you?" Reggie asked dubiously.
"No…?"
"Re'em? Alligator?"
Severus fell off the couch again. Evan kicked him. After all, it wasn't as if Reg was a guest.
And it turned out Reggie was still excellent at pillow fights, the oversized, sneaky little brat.
He was thoroughly muzzy before very long, not really because of the scotch. It was late, and he'd actually been worried about Spike all day, not just at the meeting. Flying North to get in all the Aurors' way evacuating people (and then getting himself arrested for snapping back when they told him off for it) would have been just like the idiot. He'd told himself that no, Severus was working, and by the time news got to the hospital the first casualties would be there, too. Spike did the job that was in front of him.
Telling himself that over and over had kept him doing his own job (not nearly so exciting, thank Salazar), only a little more slowly than usual and without mucking up the canvas. Which was, in fact, important, because his subject was an intimate counselor of the head of the French MLE, and the Dark Lord was looking for allies. He'd painted beautifully, and chatted charmingly, and learned a lot. Mum and Dad and Grandpère were all going to be very pleased with him for it, each for their own reasons.
He was pleased himself; he knew more about how France worked now than he had after living there for a few months. And he'd been right, of course, because Spike did the job in front of him unless he thought it was too stupid to be worth doing.
But it had been a long, long day. He headed in for bed before Reg was even out the door (Reggie was family, after all, and not a guest), letting Severus see him out. It took longer than he expected. When Spike finally came back in from murmuring in their tiny foyer, he made a questioning noise.
"Impositions," Severus grumbled, the bloodhound light in his eye giving him away.
"He gave you a puzzle," Evan guessed.
"Mm." Spike hauled him up groaning by the collar and made him drink a shotglass of hangunder potion. Nasty stuff, but he handed him some mint water and a stringmint afterwards before turning in with him. He further did Evan the courtesy of being, if not a lush or sultry-smiling thing (tumbling, for the purpose of), warm and welcoming and familiar and solid and never-ever-Avery. So that was all right. "There's a… there's something he wants me to analyze."
"Reggie does?" he blinked. "What could he possibly—" he paused, and frowned. "Would this be the something that got Kreacher?"
"It would," Severus said grimly. "I'll be careful with it, believe me. In fact, it'll take some planning before I even try to collect a sample."
"Poor Kreacher," Ev sighed. Spike hesitated a half-beat before humming in agreement, almost too brief to notice. He frowned again and, curious, asked, "Are you lying to me?" he asked curiously.
Spike lifted a quizzically amused brow at him. "What happened to 'it doesn't work if you do it out loud?' Would you have to ask if I were?"
He ignored the first question as patently silly, although he felt much better when Spike was looking arch, as opposed to the stark determination not to be frazzled he'd been wearing so often lately. "Well, I didn't think so, but you have been getting better at things…"
"I'm withholding information," Severus told him with a sardonic curl of a smile. "As it isn't mine."
It did take a second, but then Evan beamed, "Oh!" He'd been worried about Reggie; his cousin had been attached to Kreacher even before Sirius had left the family, and afterwards he'd gotten completely dependant. And there was Linky, too. He wasn't completely sure the two elves were related (or how that worked for elves), but they certainly acted like identical twins under polyjuice. "Well," he said magnanimously, "I'm sure someone will tell me when I ought to know."
"Fatuous ass," Severus noted, still sardonic but with warm eyes. Summoning a book to his hand—not the sneaky-Greek epic they'd been reading, which Spike tended to read in the original once Ev started to get too sleepy to pay attention, which was nice—he motioned Evan to make a second headboard of himself for him, and started thumbing. "I know just the one for you…"
His deep voice was hypnotic enough even when it wasn't going on about sunless seas and caverns measureless to man. Evan was out like a candle well before the rather Freudian fountain imagery, which may have been just as well. Spike was insufferable for days when muggle poetry drove a pureblood to go take some private time. Besides, after a day like this, if he'd tried to sleep alone there might have been worse nightmares than just the usual white desert chill.
Characters Interviewed/OMAKE!
note: I'm including only the bits that are appropriate for the gen version. Some questions may not be, but if at least part of the answer was, or if it was all adjustable, I'll give it to you.
Louise (AO3): Ok, I will play your game, though I really think Severus will resent you forever for embarrassing him like this. "What muggle song do you most strongly associate with [each other]?"
E: Grace Kelly.
S: Die Forelle. Especially the last verse, the one that always gets left out this century.
E: (eyebrow)
S: You're a dragonfish, Fisher King, not a snake. I said it in second year, still true.
E: We weren't friends then!
S: Pardon me: I called you dangerously effective, you picked one that whinges about (scathing) not being liked.
E: No, no, you're completely missing the whole attitude! (grabs arm and wheels him away, explaining expansively to Mr. Tolerantly Skeptical about a more cheerful Fuck You I'm Me stance than he usually manages, all the way out of sight)
credits in order: Mika, Schubert. Yes, Evan enjoys sunshine pop. He says it goes with his hair.
Ebony Starstorm (FFNet): Does it annoy you, that people always ask to quantify your relationship?
Evan: Actually, the people who know we're close allies either think they have it pinned or are too polite to ask. Us, anyway; one doesn't. Most people just assume Spike needed a flatmate for the rent—
Severus: I DO AT THIS POINT NOT. I CAN PAY AT LEAST SOME OF IT GODDAMMIT. I COULD PAY ALL OF MY HALF IF YOU DIDN'T INSIST ON LIVING TWO STEPS OFF DIAGON WITH ALL THE MINISTRY PRATS!
E: I like it here. You lost the bet, Spike, live with it.
S: (grargh)
E: Anyway, it's good for business. —Needed a flatmate for money, as I was saying, and had to find someone too laid back to kill him who wouldn't get on his nerves much.
S: True. And they explain why you went along with it because?
E: Someone has to keep you out of trouble, Spike. I mean, we did let you graduate in one piece, your behavior does rather reflect on the Ho—OW, hey! SPIIIIIIKE...!
hwyla (ffnet): I especially love that Patrick was probably closer on McKellan's 'spirit animal' than Ian was himself. He seems much more 'gazelle' than 'gorilla.' On a related note - my question therefore is: what would the other's animagus form be?
Evan: Quetzalcoatl! The kind where you cross his kind of cobra with a raven. Or a magpie. To keep up the black and white. But really a raven. Or a crow, because he's not that big. ^_^
Severus: o.O
Author: Animagus forms are always unmagical animals, Ev.
S: CORRECT.
E: Oh, well, if you want to be boring and accurate... a tiny little fluffy frizzy teeny grey kitten. With a face that's too long for a kitten and a reeeeally long tail and freakishly unnerving black eyes.
S: That's Reg, a kitten. With the colors switched.
E: No, he's more of a bunny. A brown one, very twitchy nose. You'd definitely be a polydactyl cat, with the thumb-things. Or maybe a Bombay, still with black eyes, very unnerving. But more likely one of those ones that looks like a wildcat and never gets so big it can't run up anybody's robes or trousers and claw their bits off. Only the fur pattern wouldn't have any brown or white in it, it would be either pure silver or shades of charcoal made for shadow-camouflage, I'm not sure which.
S: (not sure whether to be alarmed or deeply amused) ...You have possibly over-thought this.
E: Nope! :D
Author: Did he get it, Severus?
S: His answer isn't especially jarring except I'm not that little, for pity's sake, just because his family's made of TREES.
E: (helpful) It's more the fragile lacelike delicacy of your lithe and wiry being completely skin and bones like a string bean.
S: (dirty look.) But there isn't a right answer. I am a person, end of story, I will not be attempting this spell, ever, I am not an animal.
E: (arm around his shoulder after moment of surprise) ...I left out the tongue, didn't I. The kitten would have an extremely long tongue. Forked. And poison claws. Still retractable, of course.
S: (snorgles unwillingly) Oh, dear god. Mundane animals, Ev, we've been over this.
E: And I was paying attention, but this is you we're talking about. ^_^
Author: And what about Evan, Severus?
E: Assume for the sake of discussion I consider it not a bad thing, Spike.
S: A swan. Speaking of lacelike lazy lassitude that's secretly a honking, hissing, flapping, rabid orangutan when hacked off.
E: Wouldn't that be Narcissa?
S: No, she's an albino alligator. Or crocodile. Whichever is better at impersonating innocent floating logs. Birch logs, in her case, I suppose. Snap! }:D
Author: And what do you think you'd be?
E: Hmm... I was thinking a nice Arabian, if I couldn't be a flying horse. Sorrel, or blood-bay. A bird wouldn't be bad, and swans kick nearly as hard... no, if I were a horse I could take Spike riding and race all over Salisbury with Luke's horses, and the kitten could sleep in a snuggly little adorable precious Sickle-sized donut on my back.
S: On the subject of kicking...
E: (blithely ignores) Anyway, it's what I thought of first so it's more likely to be right.
S: (only mildly sour) I'm surprised you didn't think I'd be a thestral, if your mind's on horses.
E: Oh, no, you only want to be invisible to everyone but us. Actually you're quite hard to miss, Naj.
(for the record, references to two of these affinities were already planned. (g))
Hello Is Anyone There (ffnet): several!
HATI: Have you ever been on a proper date?E: A proper what?
S: Muggle courting ritual.
E: (tragedy face) I missed out on a courting ritual?
S: (rolls eyes) One fusses over one's clothes, is exhaustively interrogated by the intended's most intimidating parent/squirms while the intended is exhaustively interrogated by one's most embarrassing parent, then leaves with the intended to engage in a leisure activity of sort and probably consume food. Generally an effort is made not to return before the embarrassing parent goes to bed, which invariably backfires, resulting in recriminations, accusations of illicit activities, and punishment.
E: ...Annnnd in the world of not-Spike, a date is...?
Author: Fuzzily defined. The leaving of the house to spend time with the 'intended' is compulsory to fit the definition, and the leisure activity and consumption of food are, if not mandatory, standard operating procedure. The leisure activity shouldn't be excessively sexual.
E: ...Oh. Wait, can it precede—?
S: (rolls eyes, tolerant) Yes.
E: Then lots. ^_^
HATI: How did you tell your parents you were [so close with] a halfblood?
E: I didn't tell them, exactly. Mulciber sent Mum one of my impulse-drawing sketchbooks in fifth year. It was, er, there wasn't as much variation in the content as Mum would have preferred. So they knew he was important in my life. And then I spent the first half of that summer writing to him and arguing very hard that he should be thought of as a full-fledged wizard and someone it was reasonable to admit to knowing. And Cissy helped, and Reg backed her up when he was thinking about anything that wasn't Sirius. So they knew it was very important, and they're not stupid. And then they met Spike and (forehead crinkles) it was a bit odd, I'm not actually sure either of them liked him much, as such, but they did do a policy 180°. They didn't object at all when I wanted to move in with him.
S: (rolls eyes, sotto voice) That's one way of putting it.
HATI: How many of Severus's habits have you picked up?
E&S: (look at each other)
S: That's a difficult question, as we've been living in the same room since we were eleven. It's hard to say, with a joined habit, who originated it, or whether everyone developed it together as a fad that outlasted its excitement. I think he picked up keeping his hair ties in a teacup from Avery—
E: (appalled) Did I? I'll pick up a nice box tomorrow. Lacquer, I think, or colored wood, not enamel... yes, definitely something darker or softer-tone-matte would look better there.
S: (amused with him, ignores) I probably started drinking coffee first, for the flavor, but he's so hopeless in the mornings it only took him long enough to work out he could turn it into hot liquid ice cream to start drinking it.
E: I don't use that much cream or sugar.
S: Anymore.
E: (makes a face at him) I suppose... it's normal to make sure you know who everyone in a room is when you walk in, but if you take up with Spike long enough you also start to pay attention to doors and windows and where you're sitting in relation to them, if only so he doesn't have to sit with his back to the room.
S: Which I don't know how you can tolerate.
E: Oh, I know I've got your wand over my shoulder. Besides, I don't actually have enemies. ^_^
S: (nose-wrinkly scowl) You shouldn't rely on that.
E: And I have picked up his terrible illicit Muggle literature habit, although of course we don't admit to that.
S: He also used to use both eyebrows when he eyebrowed people before third year.
E: No, I didn't!
S: Of course you didn't. And no one ever caught you practicing in the bathroom mirror, either.
HATI: What's the most endearing thing E has ever done for you? Some small kindness that meant the world to you?
S: (gapes like an enormously affronted fish for a minute, brain overloading)
S: (pulls himself together)
S: (coolly) When we met, he competently got my clothes presentable without identifying me as the humiliating and humiliated party—not that it wasn't obvious, but he didn't—declined to attempt bullying not only as if he thought me too strong for it but as if the idea had not occurred, gave me a Slytherin Survival Guide, and though he wasn't any more interested in speaking with me than anyone else, used his influence where he could to have everyone allow me to listen to their conversations. For accent help, but I learned far more than that. I'm not sure I would say it was endearing; he was at that time a cold-fish prig who'd quite swallowed the pureblood line, though without any notable passion, and his motivations for what he did actively were rote dutifulness and trouble-avoidance. Indeed, he appeared to have a camera in place of any functioning internal equipment. If you'd asked me about habits, I would have mentioned from whom I studied the unimpressed-and-disinterested look. It was unique behavior in the dungeons, however, and brought him to my attention, and it gave me the world. Or a chance at being part of it. One I would not have otherwise had.
E: (helpful, arm around his shoulder) Spike doesn't really trust gestures, so we leave those to Narcissa, who can't help it. He seemed to trust me more after I more-or-less understood why he was upset about getting his snake name, though.
S: (leaning in almost imperceptibly) More or less—? (shakes head) You are such a twitterpate.
E: (grinning) I thought I was a goon this week.
S: Plausible, but that N's about eight letters too far along.
Author: (whispers) if you've been reading this series here, please note that the version of A Key Called Promise on Archive of Our Own is illustrated, and Evan's expression in chapter 5 would probably both surprise him and explain to him why Severus warmed up a little afterwards.
S: Also there was the lack of being put off by the hair, despite all the rumors Black had long since put out that it looks like this because I don't wash.
E: Er, Spike, I shared a bedroom with you. And a bathroom. I knew you washed.
S: Didn't stop Mulciber, somehow. Reputation is more important than proven fact to most people. Especially prepubescents. Kids are awful.
HATI: 'it gave me the world'...Snape you are sometimes the sweetest man around. Then you go and make a first year cry or something but still. (debates merits of hugging again)
E: (knowledgeably) It's like wearing Muggle clothes in Knockturn. Anyone comments, it's an invitation to hex, make my day...
S: What is wrong with you two. There is nothing sweet about it. I was speaking very-nearly literally; Slytherin would never have treated me like a full-fledged member, wizard, or human being without all that. I could say 'gave me the Wizarding World' if you like. It was my ticket in. I don't know where you bring sentimentality into it.
E: Sure, Spike, everyone believes you. ^_^
S: (sulks. Had really thought he was getting away with a non-feelings-related answer there for a minute.)
