InsaneJournal

Shallow Cowards

 

                They all knew he was a coward already. Leaving the battle to look for things to steal should be expected of him. There didn't seem to be much here, though. He'd heard Sirius talking about an entrance to this Shack and opened it. Should have figured there'd be nothing of real value in a dusty old place called the Shrieking Shack.

 

And then he saw Snape. He'd just been trying to see if the man had anything valuable on him, a galleon, maybe a vial of some important potions ingredient, when the man stirred in his arms and, eyes wide, he released him. "Snape?" he called down at him. "Can you hear me, then?"

 

                Snape moaned a hoarse, pained moan, and he lifted the man with his wand, placing the sickles he'd just nicked back into the man's pocket and giving it a pat. "There y'are, then," he said softly.

 

                Opening the hazy black eyes with magic, he got Snape to look at him. "I'm going to heal you now," he said, and moved up the stairs, looking for some sort of a bed or a couch. He laid Snape on a lumpy mattress, staring at him for a moment. "Cripes."

 

                Snape moaned in pain again, and he sighed. He ripped the man's dark robes with a spell, staring at his neck. "The Big Guy's snake bit ye?" The slightest nod was his answer, the man still shivering and in pain. "Constrictor, wadn't it?" he said, thinking to himself. He'd sold snakes illegally before. "So the venom must be . . . a potion. Or maybe it's spelled. Aw hell," he said, and leaned in to furiously lick and suck at the man's neck, to a small whine from Snape. Routinely putting his head to the side of the bed to spit out what he was taking from him, he paused.

 

                "Sorry, don' think well under pressure," he said sheepishly, and began using a Summoning Charm to suck the poison out of Snape, from his neck and all his pores. Snape moaned and thrashed as well as he could, Mundungus lending him a hand to hold. Finally, the poison stopped, puddling around Snape, dampening the bed.

 

                "Well, that's one way to do it," he said quietly. Then he placed a magical bandage around Snape's neck, temporarily. "Mungo's is swamped, I suppose," he said, and with a sigh he washed the bed and Snape, and even Snape's pants and ripped robe, repairing the robe. "You still got your wand?"

 

                Mundungus felt for the wand in the man's pockets, then took it out, placing it in his weak hands. "Time will tell, I suppose. Well, if you need me to do something, send up sparks." He kicked off his shoes, lying next to Snape on the bed. "I can sleep through anythin', too, so it may take some work to wake me. I'll try not to be long." Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was snoring loudly.

 

 

 

                "I don't see him, Harry," said Kingsley.

 

                "Oy!" said Dung, "I got him up here." He felt Snape sigh next to him in sleep, and wrapped a protective arm around him. Footsteps on the creaking stairs became louder, and Kingsley Shacklebolt and Harry Potter came through the doorway.

 

                "Your lips are all bloody," said Harry.

 

                "Tried to suck the poison out," grinned Dung. "Used magic after a bit of that, though. No doubt he'll still need help."

 

                "I'll go get someone," said Kingsley. "Thanks for your help, Harry," he said. "Mundungus, you stay here with Snape."

 

                "No problem," Dung said, letting himself fall back into sleep once more.

               

 

 

                "God, I despise Mungo's," Dung muttered as he headed up to the room to check on Snape. Though, the sunlight streamed in prettily when he got to the room, and it served to enhance the fact that Snape looked a good deal better, and Snape did indeed look comfortable as he slept, a real bandage in place, his hair, for the first time Dung had ever seen it, clean.

 

                "Are you the man who got the poison out?" asked the young Healer. She looked impressed. He shrugged. "That was exactly what you were supposed to do," she said.

 

                "Was it?" he asked a bit distractedly, still taking in Snape's overall appearance.

 

                "You saved his life, sir."

 

                "Sometimes I have bad instincts," said Dung, still watching Snape carefully, "but sometimes my instincts serve me well." He patted Snape's hand and left. "Tell him I've been to see him, will you?"

 

                "Certainly, sir," she said, smiling.

 

                Snape sniffed, and opened his eyes just moments after Dung had left. "Was a man in here?"

 

                "The man who saved you, yes."

 

                Snape waved his wand and, fighting the odd urge to smile, cast a spell to freshen the air.

 

 

 

                It wasn't but a few days later when he was released to Spinner's End. It felt rather lonely to be back home now, after the war was over. Not even that idiotic Wormtail was there to keep him company. He did something he thought he'd never do, and voluntarily made his way to Grimmauld Place.

 

                Much to his chagrin, there was a big group of people staying at the place. He supposed it was better than being alone at home, though, even as everyone stopped chatting with each other and stared at him. When he sneered, they all continued their conversations, Harry stepping toward him. He had to fight the urge to flinch as the boy neared.

 

                "You're always welcome in this house," said Harry tightly.

 

                "Thank you," Snape said, equally tightly. "Have you seen—?"

 

                "Dung?" Snape's lip curled in disgust at the shortening of the name. "Well, he comes in every once in a while to drink up. Why don't you drop in for a bit next time? I'll tell you when."

 

                "Thank you," he said again, and that was all the time he had to say anything before Molly Weasley was launching herself at him.

 

                "Molly, dear, er, Molly, dear, why don't you let the man go?" said Arthur, and Snape shot him a grateful look as his lungs began to work again.

 

                "We have stew," she offered him hopefully, "still hot."

 

                "No, thank you," he said, trying to hide his utter shock. He made his way out of Grimmauld again. That was plenty socialization for a while. Percy stopped him before he reached the door, in the entry way.

 

                "So you were in love with Harry's mum? I always figured you were—"

 

                "Oh, I am."

 

                "Huh."

 

                "Yes."

 

                "Well."

 

                "She was my first friend, though, and my reason for becoming such a 'hero'." He rolled his eyes, referring to his Order of Merlin and the things Witch Weekly was saying about him.

 

                "If Witch Weekly bothers you, you could probably set them straight. Or . . . er . . . not straight."

 

                "Percival, have you never met witches? Try that and they'll only like you more."

                          

                Percy laughed softly, holding the door open for him so that he could leave and then Apparate away.

               

 

 

                He really did seem to have a problem with witches the next time he went to Diagon Alley. It wasn't until he was at Flourish & Blotts, browsing the titles, when one pinched his bum and he literally began yelling at her that instant, sending her almost to the point of tears before she scampered off, that he truly accepted that it was a problem. The store clerk raised an eyebrow at him. He sneered and muttered something about her deserving it before hastily leaving as well.

 

 

 

                "I came as soon as I heard. You're alive!" said Lucius.

 

                Snape stared at him blankly. "Lucius, it has been two and a half weeks."

 

                "Yes, well, you know how life goes."

 

                "Uh huh."

 

                "And I may have forgotten."

 

                "Uh huh."

 

                "Holding up alright? Let us go out somewhere to celebrate our new leases on life—I was just acquitted, you know. Shall I bring Narcissa?" At the look on Snape's face, he said, "Alright, then, no Narcissa. There's this new place in Diagon Alley that I've been . . . Severus?"

 

                Snape looked rather pale. "No. Not Diagon Alley."

 

                Lucius frowned slightly. "Well, if you're sure, then."

 

                He was quite sure.

 

 

 

                Harry's stag Patronus made him groan. But at least it was announcing Mundungus's presence. Now he had a chance to thank the man.

 

                Decidedly less people were gathered in the sitting room now, in fact, only one was, and for a moment Snape dared hope he had anything at all to do with the change.

 

                "Hello," he said, seating himself near the man.

 

                "Hey there! Well, you're lucky I'm still coherent." Snape didn't doubt that. "Probably don't want to hear this and all, but I miss Sirius somethin' awful whenever I come by. We used to drink together once a week. I, er, don't have many friends," Dung said sheepishly, scratching his head.

 

                "I see."

 

                "Yeah, well . . . I guess you don't either, eh?"

 

                Snape stiffened. He nodded slightly.

 

                Mundungus seemed to brighten up. "Want ter be my new drinking partner?"

 

                Snape flinched. "I don't get drunk," he said after a moment.

 

                "Who said anything about gettin' drunk? Or . . ." Mundungus suddenly looked a bit hurt. "Is is me that you don't want ter drink with? I mean, never stayed for meals, did you? Maybe you're just an arrogant prig like Sirius thought you were."

 

                "Maybe you're a rotten low-life of a coward."

 

                "I saved your life, bitch."

 

                "I know. Thank you."

 

                "Drinking partners?"

 

                Snape pressed fingertips to his forehead delicately. "Oh, why not?"

 

 

 

                His letter to the editor of Witch Weekly was scathing.

 

                Dear Philia Lovehart,

               

                Tell your shallow readers to keep their slimy paws off of me. I am near the point of becoming a recluse permanently, and it is all your fault. I am not a hero, and I am most definitely not looking for a woman. Any woman. I am attracted to men. Tell your readers to bugger off. And, if you must know, I am not looking for a man either at this point.

 

                Gloriously Single,

 

                Bugger off,

 

                Severus Snape

 

                P.S.: For the love of all that is holy, please publish this.

 

                He knew that if his sexuality didn't keep them away, his personality would.

 

 

 

                Much to his consternation, while his letter was published, some of the reporters had the nerve to discuss it! Someone said "Aww, isn't that nice, he's religious!" and someone said "The reluctant hero. You don't see that much anymore." He wanted to scream.

 

                When a reporter, a Miss Bridget Sharpnell, came to the door, he seriously considered hexing her and blasting apart her photographer's camera.

 

                "Good evening, sir, won't you invite me in? Thank you." She brushed past him and into the house.          "Oh, oh, this place needs a bit of decorating, doesn't it?" she said, looking about and clucking her tongue in a way that made him want to rip it off. "Well, have a seat and try to give us a smile. Or don't smile, that's fine too," she said at the look on his face.

 

                "What the bloody hell are you doing in my house?"

 

                "A special edition on the brooding, gay, non-hero. Ah, but we'll need to give you a makeover first," she said.

 

                He gaped like a landed fish. "Absolutely not, no, not going to happen."

 

                "But you know how shallow gay men are," she said, and then winced, adding, "No offense, sir."

 

                "I am certain there's a man out there who would take me as I am," said Snape vehemently. "We are not all overly concerned with appearances, and I would appreciate it if you would get your filthy 'beautifying' crew out of my house."

 

                "Can I quote you on that, sir?"

 

                "Certainly. Get. Them. Out. Before I am tempted to hex you all."

 

                "No, no," she said, motioning for the crew to leave, "I meant the first bit, about wanting men to be less shallow. That might be a good thing for even witches to hear."

 

                "Oh, undoubtedly. I did not even get to how shallow witches can be."

 

                "I meant it may be enlightening for witches struggling with shallow men's opinions to hear," she said tightly.

 

                "Either way," he said with an uncaring shrug. "So, are we finished?"

 

                "Not quite," she said, and with a glee he could not fathom, she began to ask him highly personal questions.

 

 

 

                "I am going to kill myself," he told the mirror that night after the reporter and her equally-insistent photographer had left.

 

                "No, no, really," he added, splashing cool water on his face and groaning.

 

                "Alright, fine," he sighed, staring at himself for one last moment. "You win this time. But next time . . . next time you will not be so lucky." He sneered and stalked back into the bedroom to lie down and wait for his moment of unthinking to beat him on the arse. And not in a good way.

 

 

 

                He had an abundance of mail that Sunday, after Witch Weekly had come out. He winced, realizing the new edition wasn't the only thing that had 'come out'. "I really am dead," he told the pile of unopened mail, and then added, to his pumpkin juice, "I really wish they wouldn't laugh when I'm trying to be serious."

 

                As he stared at the letters, maybe an hour passed, the pile seeming to grow exponentially, and he received a knock at the door. Very, very warily, he stood and peered through the hole to answer it. He sighed in relief when he realized it was only Lucius.

 

                "Do come in," he said dryly as Lucius pushed right past him.

 

                "You did not tell me!" the usually put-together man sputtered. "You did not say a thing, in all the time that I've known you! How do you think that makes me feel!"

 

                Snape snorted. "Look at you, Lucius. Was it Narcissa's subscription or yours?"

 

                "I've had a subscription since I earned the Most-Charming Smile Award, Severus, really," he said, frowning.

 

                "So you've been reading that drivel fifty-two times for the past, what, ten years?" He was smirking, but then the expression turned to one of shock. "Just who is the gay one here?" he muttered.

 

                "That's you, Severus, always one to perpetuate people's stereotypes." He sighed a put-upon sigh. "It says they offered you a makeover and you did not take it. Are you stupid? Even I would accept a free makeover, Severus, and I, well . . . I'm perfect."

 

                "Yes, thank you, we know," Snape said tightly.

 

                More owls were flying into the house to deposit their letters and then leaving again. "It is asinine to assume you can get through in this life without looking your best, and I've always told you as much. However, I did like the way you called out particularly shallow people. Need any help sorting through the fan mail?"

 

                "Take it all," said Snape. "I'll be in my room, appreciating the way my ugliness as a person, both inside and out, makes a great complement to the awful décor."

 

 

 

                "They're not all bad, you know," said Lucius after knocking. "No, don't laugh, Severus, some of them are offers of dates."

 

                "Merlin's prick, I am going to burn the lot of them!" he snapped, pushing past Lucius to run down the stairs toward the kitchen.

 

                "Don't you think you're overreacting? It could be good to have a date, couldn't it? I mean, have you ever had a date?"

 

                "Shut up, Lucius." He drew his wand and lit one of the open letters, requesting his presence at an opera with a stately older gentleman.

 

                 "No, honestly, have you?" said Lucius.

 

                "No. Never. And, really, I don't wish to start now." He lit a few more on fire, before just lighting the entire pile, it blazing and crackling satisfactorily. "If only I had some marshmallows," he said. "We could hold hands and sing Death Eater folk songs."

 

                Lucius grinned. "Well, your sense of humor certainly doesn't need a makeover. In my opinion, at least." A few more letters came in and were dropped right on top of the pile.

 

                "Yes, Lucius. Your approval is why I wake up in the morning."

 

                "See? Beautiful people are powerful people, Severus."

 

                "Oh goody. I never had to join the Dark Lord at all, then, did I? I just had to submit myself to the will of the rest of the world so that they might like me. Oh how stupid I was. Get out."

 

                Lucius shrugged, tossed a letter that had fallen to the floor into the pile, and left.