They Didn't Know We Were Seeds
Chin in her the palm of her hand, Priscilla watches with disinterest as Avery and Duffield flip through different texts and then compare the page they land on to pieces of parchment that are spread around them. After they finish, they pick up their quill and jot something down on yet another piece of parchment before reaching for a new textbook from the piles in the middle of the dark mahogany table they're seated at.
Priscilla stifles a yawn with will alone. She didn't know writing a book could be so boring. Her grandmother always made even the dull bits of putting together a textbook seem fascinating. It's making her rethink writing herself.
It also makes her think she should have asked for some kind of compensation from Snape before agreeing to check on Duffield. Perhaps she can wheedle something out of him later. As she muses on what to do, the room's door opens.
Her attention is torn from the teenagers as the trim, blond wizard that's Avery's uncle Travis strides in. His eyes brush over her without so much as pausing and passes a little slower over Avery before stopping on Duffield. The girl, who has halted in her work the moment he opened the door, stares up at him in a way that speaks of one awaiting orders.
Travis Avery's mouth shapes into a brief smile. "How goes doublechecking our citations?" he inquires.
"All right!" Avery answers for himself and Duffield, putting down his quill and quitting his work at last. He twists in his seat to give his uncle all of his attention. "I think we'll be done with the first half by the end of the day."
"Brilliant," replies the wizard. "Excellent work you two."
Both Avery and Duffield visibly brighten at the praise.
Avery's uncle casually places a hand on one of the table's two empty chairs and orients himself towards Duffield. Priscilla eyes this move with interest. She can't help but think there is something a little too careful about his movements; it feels as if he's uncertain.
Why would he be nervous when facing a teenager?
From his robe he pulls out a bound set of parchments. Waving them up in the air, he says, "I need to take these corrections to my editor." Tilting his head, he remarks to Duffield who's still listening to him, "Posey, I believe you mentioned you were interested in meeting her?"
The witch nods once. "Yes, sir. I thought the way you described her job was interesting. I'd like to ask her some questions about it."
The man straightens himself out, arms behind his back and a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Ah, good, I was right. I asked her to set aside a little extra time for our meeting today. Please get your robe, I need to leave in five minutes."
The girl hurriedly organizes her work and exclaims, "Yes, sir!"
Travis Avery's eyes are practically indulgent as Duffield finishes tidying and springs up from her chair and goes to gather her robe from the last empty chair. As she tugs it on, the wizard turns around and starts for the door; the girl on his heels.
Once they are well and gone, Priscilla focuses her attention on Avery. He's gone back to his and Duffield's work; an unhappy furrow between his brows.
She smirks and leans toward him. "So, what do you think of Duffield?"
Avery scowls. "I hate her," he proclaims without hesitation.
Priscilla rolls her eyes. "What a surprise."
He lifts his gaze from his work and looks over at her with pursed lips. Priscilla raises her eyebrows in response. She hopes the look will be enough to get him to spit out whatever is clearly on his mind.
"You see that clip in her hair?" he asks at last.
She has to reflect for a moment, but Priscilla does. The clip had been gold in the shape of a dragonfly. Duffield had worn it on the side of her head to keep her dark hair away from her face as she flipped between textbooks. "What of it?" she replies.
"Uncle Travis gifted it to her," Avery explains.
A numbness creeps over Priscilla. Avery's uncle has to be in his fifties at least. What business does he have to be giving presents to a witch who is barely even of age?
She knows Duffield's acted like a slag in the past. The gift could be a sign she's at it again but what if she isn't? Does it matter if she is? Duffield is still a child in too many ways and doesn't deserve to be left to Travis Avery's tender mercies.
"Oh?" she finds herself murmuring in a far-off way.
Avery huffs. "It's not the only thing either," he grumbles. "He's gotten her nice quills and ink too. He also bought her some books that would 'help' her with the translating we're doing." His tone turns sulky. "He likes her more than me I think."
Priscilla can't help the strangled noise that passes from her lips before she croaks, "Likes her?"
Avery really looks at her for the first time since they started this uncomfortable conversation. "Yes?" he replies; squinting at her. "What? Why are you frowning like that?"
She doesn't answer immediately. When she does, it's in a bid to be allowed more time to think. "I am trying to find a polite way to ask the question I have," she tells an increasingly fidgety Avery.
He opens and closes his mouth. "A polite—" he stops and his dark eyes blow wide. "No. Uncle Travis doesn't like her that way. He looks at her like…" the teenager trails off and runs a frustrated hand through his thick, black hair. "Like the way he looks at my Uncle Griffith," he mumbles at last; cheeks an embarrassed red.
"Griffith?" echoes Priscilla. "I didn't know you had another uncle," she fibs; her fingers finding the edge of her robe's sleeve.
Absently, she wonders if perhaps Travis Avery has some foul proclivities she'd previously been unaware of. She supposes it's possible. Especially if he centered them on his squib brother who's more or less unknown to their society. And now that he's being all but given to Snape's mother it would make sense he's looking for a new source to focus his interests on.
"You're a shitty liar," snaps Avery.
She offers a bland smile. Priscilla supposes that's a fair insult to lob her way. Avery knows as well as most people do that she and Snape talk. "If it's any consolation for you I only recently learned of him," she tells the teenager. "Snape isn't exactly pleased about his mother dating."
He sniffs haughtily. "Yes, well, I'm not pleased he might become my cousin-in-law."
"I wouldn't be in your situation either," admits Priscilla with a laugh.
Avery's heavy brows pull together. "What? But you…" he pauses and scratches his chin. "Aren't you mates?"
"No," she answers easily. What they have is a partnership and it's likely even that will cease to exist once they accomplish their goals. She can't say she feels too broken up about that. Snape isn't a very pleasant person and frequently controlling in her view.
"Then why—"
"It's none of your business," cuts in Priscilla with a smile that is not sweet.
He bares his teeth. "Cunt," he snarls.
She snorts; amused more than cross. "Jealous prat."
They descend into a mutual silence for a time; Avery continues mug at her and she rolls her eyes at his behavior. At last, he gives up on his silly attempt to intimidate and upset her in favor of defending his likely predator uncle.
"My uncle doesn't fancy her," he declares.
Priscilla scoffs and sneers. "Sure."
Cheeks reddening once more he argues, "No! He doesn't." Priscilla leans back in her chair and he breathes in and out a couple of times to help himself calm down. "Uncle Travis just indulges her interests that he approves of. He does it with my Uncle Griffith too," the teenager explains.
Priscilla thinks that proves nothing. Or worse proves her fears are right. Travis Avery is preying on people who have no recourse or way to defend themselves.
"Me as well I suppose," says Avery, and Priscilla feels dread. "It's how he shows he cares."
"How he cares, hm?" she murmurs; looking the boy over. It's possible he's been primed too Priscilla supposes. Travis Avery might even yet intend to do something to his nephew.
"Stop it," growls Avery when he realizes she's eyeing him critically instead of believing him. "You have only seen them together for twenty minutes. I've been here all summer! I know he doesn't feel that way! She just makes him miss his daughter."
She feels her thoughts come to an abrupt halt. She's never heard of an Avery girl before. It makes her a little breathless. Who knew this family was so excellent at keeping secrets?
"Daughter?" she echoes.
"Yes," mutters the teenager; expression more annoyed than anything else. "You likely already know my Uncle Travis and Aunt Aurelia's marriage only still exists on parchment. There's a reason it's that way. Before even my Uncle Griffith was born they had a daughter. No one's ever told me exactly what happened but she died before her first birthday.
"Afterward Aunt Aurelia wouldn't consider having another child and eventually told my uncle to leave their home altogether. He came back here, to my grandparents' manor, and has lived here since. I've known since I was little he hasn't forgotten my cousin. There's a portrait of her he keeps above his bed in his bedroom."
Having reached the end of his story, Avery frowns. "I don't know what he sees in Duffield but my uncle honestly seems to want to guide her, be a father to her," he says. The teenager shakes his head in bewilderment and says, "Even worse Duffield lets him act like her father. I think she likes it. Likes my Uncle Travis."
Priscilla can only stare back in speechless silence. She agrees with Avery. It is definitely worse. If Duffield sees Travis Avery as a father figure who knows what trouble she will be dragged into by him?
If she's pulled in it's likely only a matter of time before her cousins are too. Priscilla bites her lip. She must talk to Snape. This is getting out of their control and will lead to more problems than any of them want or need.
-o-O-o-
Sage has been building up to this moment for days. After his talk with Severus, he tried to think of another way to distract Boyd from wanting to introduce him to his Death-Eater co-conspirators for a little bit but found himself at a loss. As is typically the case Severus came up with the best plan.
Still, it hasn't been easy to piece together the courage for this. He's not like his brother. Sage has never been brave. It's likely why the other Sage, the one Severus didn't know, became a Death-Eater.
Sometimes Sage wishes he could talk to the one Severus knew first. It's not comforting but he thinks they are still quite alike all things considered. They probably both just want Mum and Boyd to be proud of them. They also both must dream of living quiet lives where they are allowed to be themselves and do work that someone will one day use to change the world.
He had to be so much sadder, though. He didn't have Severus. Boyd turned him into a Death-Eater and made him take part in their horrors. That Sage never had anyone to talk to he bet. He almost didn't either. Not until he tried to tattle on Severus all those years ago now and caught his attention. He's so happy he was brave enough to do that.
Hopefully, Sage will be glad at the end of this too.
"Boyd?" he calls to his brother.
The man doesn't pause in his work of pruning and trimming their mother's hedges. She doesn't trust this task with the House-Elf. As brilliant as Topper is at keeping up the manor he lacks a green thumb and Mum doesn't trust him to do more than water the garden (even then she always wants to supervise to make sure nothing receives too little or too much water).
Again, he tries. "Boyd?" Sage repeats.
His brother sighs and pauses in waving his wand to look over his broad shoulders. "Yes, Sage?"
He shuffles in place. "Can I…" he mumbles, "I want to, well—"
"Sage, please," cuts in his brother, eyes turning taut. "I need to finish the garden in time for my dinner reservation with Violet."
He winces. "Sorry."
Boyd groans. Twists halfway around, he waves at Sage to come to his side. "Here, do you want to help? You know how Mum likes these bloody roses trimmed just as well as I do."
"Sure," he agrees with some relief. It's always easier to talk with his brother when they're doing something together. When he isn't the entire focus of him. He loves Boyd but his brother can be unnervingly intense (Severus can be like that too. It must be a family trait).
"So, what's on your mind, hm?" asks Boyd as he gets back to trimming the hedges as Sage sets to work on the roses in front of them.
He forces himself to relax. "I… I'm not sure I fancy witches," he admits as he takes off a snapped branch from the rose bush (did a rodent get at it? Perhaps they'll need to check the wards on the garden later. Mum placed some last summer to keep out pests but they are known to lose potency with time).
Boyd pauses in his work to look at the top of his head. He resists the urge to squirm as his older brother says, "Sorry, Sage, can you say that one more time."
He lets his wand fall at his side and looks up at his brother (in another year, they'll be the same size; he could even be taller). "I don't feel anything when I look at a witch," he tells Boyd.
His brother's mouth quirks in a smirk, blue eyes glinting with mirth. "You know not everyone is immediately attracted to a girl," he says. "Sometimes you have to get to know them first."
Boyd reaches over and claps him on the shoulder with a heavy, square hand. "You're a good lad, Sage, I'm happy — so is Mum — you're so focused on your schooling, but it's not missed by us that you spend your free time almost exclusively with Severus. Perhaps you just need to take some time to get to know the witches in your year."
Sage ignores the subtle lecturing in favor of firming his mouth into a frown and shaking his head. "No, Boyd. That's not it."
"Really now?" says his brother; feathered brows jumping high on his forehead.
Sage flushes."There—" he starts, stumbling over his words, "I got to know this boy a bit the other year and I— I—"
"You what?" breaks in Boyd, voice quiet and stern.
Panic blooms in his chest. He can't tell from the look on his brother's face if he's getting angry or worried. "Please don't be cross," he begs.
"You what, Sage?" presses Boyd; fingers digging into his shoulder.
"…Fancied him," he admits at last. Hurriedly, when Boyd's mouth starts to twist, he adds, "Just a little!"
His brother covers his eyes with a hand and grumbles, "Mum isn't going to like this."
"You're going to tell her?" whispers Sage, afraid.
Boyd sighs and lets his hands fall from his face and Sage's shoulder."I'm deciding," he admits as he crosses his arms.
"It can't matter that much!" cries Sage, now upset. This isn't something he expected. Boyd's always been so good about keeping things between them. Why should this be different? "You're already married and you're going to have a son and—"
"—You truly think that will be enough?" Boyd cut in with a frown.
'Apparently not,' thinks Sage as he lowers his eyes to his toes. "I'm sorry," he whispers.
"I won't tell," says his brother at last.
Sage can't help it; he leaps at his brother and hugs him. "Boyd!"
The older wizard returns the hug. Squeezing him, he murmurs, "If she sets you up with a witch, you have to at least try, Sage."
"I will," he promises.
Boyd lets him go. He then grabs his chin and says, "Please, if you pursue another wizard, be careful. There are quite a few who might take offense to the kind of attention you might want to give them."
He tries to nod but is stopped by the hand holding his chin. So instead Sage offers a sheepish smile. "I don't know if there's really anyone I want to date at the moment," he admits. "The one boy I fancied is with a girl right now…"
His brother releases his chin. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says. Patting him on the back, he tells Sage, "I need to talk to some others but I think this will only be a bit of a bump on your way to your future in the group I'm a part of."
He breathes out. This is what he's been hoping to hear from the start. What Severus hoped too. This will give Sage more time to be a free wizard. He can find himself an apprenticeship abroad now and escape the coming war altogether if he takes care with his next steps.
Severus is going to be relieved as Sage is when he hears.
-o-O-o-
He barely bits back a scoff when his mother whirls on him. She's got her hair up for the evening and wears a touch of rouge on her cheeks to liven up her typically pallid features. She is trying very hard to be fierce and intimidate him but Severus has seen far more terrifying things in his day.
A vexed witch barely rates in the top hundred.
All the same, he leans away as his mother pushes into his space and hisses, "You will be polite this time, do you hear me?"
"Yes," he bleats without inflection. He cocks his head. "What will happen if I'm not?" he asks. Not much happened before. Mum just ended up "grounding" him to the cottage for a week. He didn't mind. It gave him quite a lot of time to read and explore the area with Ichabod.
She huffs and stands back up. Primly she fiddles with the buttons of her dress and says, "I can tell what you're thinking already. Vesta knows to alert me if you turn up at her home today or tomorrow morning already. I even sent word to Boyd too."
He rolls his eyes. This again? He didn't run off! "I didn't run away last time," he argues. "I was returning Sage's robe."
Mum glares at him. "And you stayed there instead of sitting in your room to think about your bad behavior."
Severus bristles. "It was an accident!" he snaps "I fell asleep while talking with Sage."
She rolls her eyes. He grits his teeth and wishes she'd let him prove the truth of his words. Mum, though, won't be persuaded. She thinks he's just being a petulant teenager who doesn't want to see his mother with a man who isn't his father.
Severus is perhaps a little petulant but he's not cross she's dating. Just worried. Griffith might be a squib but his brothers and nephew aren't. They are dangerous to his mother; to him and his goals.
He wishes she'd try seeing a few other men instead of latching onto the one Demitri and Vesta have pushed at her. However, it's becoming ever clearer she won't. If he wants to end things between her and Griffith he's going to have to scare the man off because Mum's too damn stubborn to let go now.
Realizing his earlier question has remained unanswered, he presses, "What's to be done with me if I don't act the way you want me to?"
Mum narrows her eyes. "Your grandfather has an attic no one's ventured in since your grandmother was alive," she says, "if you act out again you'll be sent to clean and organize it."
He gapes. Severus honestly can't think of much worse at this time. Hours spent in that wizard's house? Having to do work for him? After the trouble he's sowed for Severus?
"Mum!" he complains.
She snorts. "I see you're listening now."
"That's not a fair punishment," he snaps; slouching against the back of the sofa.
The witch raises a carefully groomed brow. "Isn't it?" she asks in a light, teasing tone. "You argue anymore with me and you'll be doing it without a wand if you misbehave."
He throws down his hands at his side and springs up from the sofa. "Misbehave? Mum, I'm not a toddler."
She scoffs. "Really? You could have fooled me," she says. The sound of the floo echoes from the other room. Mum, with a sigh, reaches up and twists a lock of Severus's hair. "Go comb your hair. That's the floo."
She then leaves Severus to go and answer it. "Ruddy Griffith. Bloody Demitri," he mutters beneath his breath while heading for the stairs. He barely makes it halfway up them before Mum reappears in the lounge.
"Severus, it's for you," she calls.
He turns around and frowns. "What?" he says. Who could be calling? Surely Not Sirius. He's with the Potters right now; rarely does he remember to keep up with Severus when with them. It can't be Scabior either.
He says his family's floo hasn't made fire calls in years.
Mum makes an impatient noise before she explains, "The Rookwood girl's fire-called us and is being rather insistent on talking to you. Please tell her to call back later or come visit tomorrow."
That's odd. And worrying. He wonders what's happened. Severus hopes it's nothing they need to address now. "Something must be wrong," he says. "She prefers to write."
Mum huffs and wraps her arms around herself. "She has parents, grandparents, an aunt, and an uncle as well! I'm sure they can assist her with whatever trouble it is she's found herself in."
"Mum," he says, voice flat as he gives her an incredulous stare.
Surely she remembers when she didn't feel like she could turn to her own family for help?
The witch shakes her head. "No, Severus Snape. Tonight is important and you will not be skipping it again unless you wish to clean your grandfather's attic without a wand!" Her expression gentles a little as she seemingly realizes how callous she just sounded. "If her parents don't mind you can have her come over tonight for a bit after Griffith leaves."
He nods; relief loosening his shoulders a bit. Mum hasn't forgotten what it's like. He hopes it stays that way. It's bad enough he already sees her changing bits of herself to suit herself for Griffith.
"Can I talk to her for a minute?" he asks.
Mum closes her eyes. "I'll be timing you," she says when she opens them.
He smiles and rushes back down the steps. "Thanks, Mum," he says while passing her on his way into the kitchen.
Another new chapter for the start of September. I hope you all are like the developments of this chapter and are excited for what's to come. Hopefully, the summer section will wrap up soon and we'll start on year six for the time-traveling group.
Thank you all a million for reading!