A/N: Meow meow, characters not mine, meow meow, A/U, meow meow Sev's perspective meow.
December 1975
They were staying at the Freehold over Yule, this winter. It wasn't like his parents minded, and Lucky was going to come over for New Year's Eve. That would be highly entertaining, given Brigid and Roland Lestrange's thoughts on alcohol and teenagers. He wondered what it would be like to spend a holiday with the lodgers, though. They were pleasant enough people, if a little strange, and he didn't think they celebrated the same holidays that other wizards did. The Morgan family seemed to have a taste for declaring holidays on a whim, and the Ó Ruadháins, with their taste for raw meat and thick beer, did not seem to celebrate anything but violent victories against the "English oppressors", as they liked to say.
As he passed the west parlour, there were sounds of argument from the open door. He stopped to listen, standing on the far side of a tall bookcase from the two people. A man and a ... he couldn't tell. One was definitely a man – sounded like that perpetually drunken Morgan, Maitiu. He peeked around the corner to catch a glimpse of the other. That was definitely Ceofine. As with about half of the Morgans, it was impossible to tell at a glance what Ceofine's gender was, and he wasn't quite daft enough to ask.
Maitiu had begun to whine again, but Ceofine cut him off. "Auntie be damned, Maitiu, you were once the scourge of several small English villages! You burned half of Newcastle to the ground on a lark, one fine afternoon! Just thirty years back, you set an English pub on fire in Belfast! Belfast, for Auntie's sake!"
"Sucks to Auntie. And sucks to you, too." Maitiu sounded petulant, an odd cast from a man who was said to be among the best swordsmen of his generation. He looked the part, too, broad shouldered and dressed in slim leather pants and a matching black vest with a blue and silver butterfly embroidered on the back, rapier hung from his hip. Severus wondered idly if this would come to blows.
Ceofine turned a brilliant red as it clenched its fists. "For fucksake, Maitiu, what happened to you?! You used to be worth something in a war!"
Maitiu looked smug. "Unlike you, cousin, I've become civilised. I just can't do without my valium and my body butter any longer. You know how revolting things get on a campaign."
Ceofine howled, and Severus could no longer hold back a snicker.
"Who's back there?" Ceofine demanded, and Severus inched out from behind the bookcase, almost afraid he'd be hexed into next week. "Ah, see that! The little Englishman thinks you're funny, too, Maitiu!" It howled with laughter, this time, and gestured for the boy to join them. He slowly walked over, still intimidated by the short, fragile-looking, entirely too boisterous pair. Ceofine grabbed him around the elbows with one arm and pulled him into what might have been a friendly embrace, thumping him on the chest with the other hand. He towered a good foot over it, but Ceofine was stronger than it looked. As he looked down at the Morgan in startled awe, he noticed Rabastan sitting on a couch at the far end of the room.
Flash
"Hey, I think I fixed Lucky's camera! Now, I just have to shoot half a roll of things that would make old Abraxas cry, before I send it back to him." Babs laughed, wickedly, winked at the Morgans, and left the room, grinning.
Severus squeezed his eyes shut and just prayed that it would all be over, soon.
"Don't worry yourself, boyo," Ceofine said, letting him go. "You'll do well for yourself, if you can control that snicker. You'll never skulk properly if you go about it so loudly."
It was odd advice from one of the loudest people he'd ever known, but Ceofine claimed to have been to a war, and the purple and green butterfly on its vest was stained darkly in more than one place. He nodded and fled the room as calmly as he could.
"That one will not have it easy," he heard as he climbed the stairs to his room.