InsaneJournal

The Aftereffects of Acromantula Venom

                "Do try out some of the Muggle inventions while you're there, Severus, like the televersion. Televersions are little screens that play by remorse controls and have tons of stations you can tune in to. They're supposedly quite fascinating. I wish I'd been given the opportunity. I mean, you get to see America as well as experience Muggle life in the full. I've only been abroad a few times, and that was to visit my sons, not really go on vacation. Take care of yourself, won't you? Are you all packed?" He looked around the room.

                "Arthur," said Severus. "Would I be myself if I were not packed? Someone has to keep order, or so I'm told—after all, the Order should be able to live up to that first part of its name, and not just the phoenix metaphor."

                "Well . . . yes." There was silence for a moment. "I'm going miss you."

                "I'll miss you too," said Severus with a sigh. He gave him a quick hug. "Have that Ministry car, do you?"

                "Yes."

                "Take me to the place with all the planes, then."

                "Yes." Arthur grasped his hand.

                "I . . . aren't we a bit early?" asked Arthur hopefully when they arrived at the airport. "Like . . . by a week?"

                Severus sighed. "No, we are not. Stop being daft. Stop worrying as well. For your information, I am not planning to overwork myself—in fact, I will look at it as a bit of a, Salazar help me, vacation."

                "You will?" asked Arthur, a bit surprised.

                "I do listen when you nag, you know," said Severus with a raised brow. "Anyway, I will also thoroughly explore the area in which I will be staying this summer. I have a Muggle camera—and no, for the last time, it isn't a 'camphora' and it isn't run on camphor. I will . . . tour for you."

                "Will we watch the memories later?"

                "We'll see," said Severus, but he obviously would not have mentioned it were he not having planned to do so already.

                "Is this relative of yours going to be nice?"

                "If he is indeed a blood relation of mine, my guess is no," said Severus darkly. "Although, he is allowing me to stay with him and his family."

                "You could still stay at the Burr—"

                "Don't even say it."

                A sigh. "That's what I expected, I guess," said Arthur with a sad smile. "You have the number to our felly?"

                "Arthur, it is a...," he sighed. "Yes, love. I have it. Now, I have to get inside the gate."

                After an aggravating plane ride in wish he wished he could have hexed the people on either side of him . . . or anyone, really, he had recited old History of Magic limericks in his head until he had had to repeat them a few times to continue doing it. It really had been too long since he'd been in school, hadn't it, for him to have remembered so few? He moved onto properties of Arithmancy and Numerology, and then he had tried to engage in conversation with the man next to him on the one side, who apparently only spoke German, and having no ability to cast a Translating Charm, he had to accept the fact that there was really nothing else to do on the plane but engage in conversation with the other man next to him.

                The other man next to him reminded him of Sirius Black, only buff, pierced, tattooed, decked all in leather and, he supposed, were it not for the metal detectors, he would have donned chains as well. He recalled someone telling him that Sirius had a motorbike, a flying one to boot, and rolled his eyes.

                But, as it was already a time of throwing caution to the wind, he had to try. To his surprise, the man was actually much more intelligent than Black, and they engaged in awkward conversation for the remainder of the trip quite amicably.

                He was all-too-happy to get off the plane, even still, though. His ears were still ringing oddly, but there was nothing he could do about it. Oh, he had his wand, but Poppy had forbidden him to cast magic for at least a month, because that was when they could all be certain that his casting abilities would be back to normal. That was when all the Acromantula venom would have left his system. He had refused to show his vulnerability to the people around him, so he had decided to go elsewhere. To America.

                Cain was waiting. He had been keeping up a correspondence with Cain Snape since his father's death. Cain had not come to the funeral, but had inquired after Tobias's wife and son and began writing them every once in a while, and the two of them had written him back.

                Now, standing in front of the man with the sign for him, with his name, he felt an odd sort of acceptance he hadn't felt in years.

                The man looked almost as different from his father Tobias as it was possible to look with the same sort of frame, though some of his mannerisms were the same. The name Cain may have suited his father more aptly than this man.

                When they reached the house, after a quiet, somehow comfortable car ride, he was greeted by Cain's younger wife Louise, who introduced herself as well as her daughters (Cain's step-daughters), Alexa and Jill.

                Settling into life with them was surprisingly easy, though he had to bite his tongue at some of the programs on the television. Jill's favorite television station was the Star Channel. What was currently playing was the newest edition of Shooting Stars, a "reality TV show" in which a man with a camera would follow stars around, especially at night outside of clubs.

                "Are they always badmouthing each other like that?" he raised an eyebrow.

                "Oh yeah," said Jill with a smile. "Always."

                "Oh, that's the boy who called Lindsay Lohan a firecrotch," said Jill.

                "A what?"

                "A firecrotch. Well, you know, she's a redhead. Red pubic hair . . . firecrotch. Well . . . the meaning is . . . debatable, but most believe he was referring to the hair."

                "I see . . . ." He found himself glad he had become a wizard. Very glad.

                It was soon time for the trip. New York City was where the girls used to live, so that was where they were all headed for the next two weeks.

It was going to be the longest car ride he'd ever taken, from Kansas to New York City.

They saw the Statue of Liberty (and it used to be copper? Muggles really were filthy. Were it a magical statue, it would have been preserved) and Times Square (really, was there the need for that many advertisements? And all the electric lights, oh! A Devil's Snare would not have stood a chance), and they also spent a day in a place called the United Nations building. That interested him, especially the gifts from nations, all the gold and ivory and whatnot—Mundungus Fletcher would have been drooling.

After a week and a half, they made it back to Kansas, still listening to poor, poppy music, still eating snacks that were high in salts and fat and sugars, and when he finally got back to England, he was glad.

He'd had no idea how quite much Arthur had missed him, and he'd especially had no idea how much the man would be turned on by his offer of showing him the pictures, but Arthur literally attacked him right in the middle of his showing, when he said he might take Arthur somewhere in the world to see whatever he wanted to for a vacation—just not anytime soon.

"Let me put these away first!" he snapped, but Arthur wasn't listening. He quickly removed Severus's robe and pants and sucked furiously at him, tweaking at his nipples, tugging at his chest hair, until he came brilliantly.

He flicked his wand and Conjured a bed to appear in the corner. "Lay down now, if you know what's good for you," he said, sounding cheery as ever, but the words made Severus shiver.

He made his way to the bed, almost stumbling over the camera, which he'd brought back to Arthur, and he laid down on the bed, Arthur just behind him. There was little preparation, quick and not very thorough, but he found it nearly as hard to wait as Arthur, so it was alright. It was a very unsophisticated coupling, not that Arthur was ever very sophisticated, but as he pulled out and came all over Severus, rubbing it into the man's skin as he kissed him, he seemed more feral than usual.

"You're a menace," said Severus.

Arthur glanced about for a moment. "You know, I suppose I am," he said huskily. "But I think you like it when I lose control."

"Perhaps."

He kissed him thoroughly, then pulled back to grin at him. "No, you honestly love it. Can't get enough of me like that. It's true, isn't it?"

                "Fucking firecrotch," he sniped.

                "What?" said Arthur.

                "Oh nothing . . . ."