Well… it could’ve been worse company. Amelia registered who, exactly, was at her side about a moment after snapping at him, but clearly Severus took no offense to the action, so she let herself relax. He was one of the few people who she could tolerate for long periods of time, namely because they could reach one another rather well. She was in a mood, and Severus understood that. Her lips quirked up, and she took a long swig from her glass.
“You sure about that, Snape? I’ve had a few already – next thing you know, I’ll be blabbing your ear off about my day.” She fell into silence for a few moments, finishing off her drink and switching to water as she mulled over her situation. “… how much stress is too much stress? Like… where do you draw the line and just fuck off away from the stressor?” Amelia paused. “That made no sense, shit.”
__
Severus shrugged, taking a sip from his can. “I am.” He commented. “One, you know I won’t listen. Two, you know that I can silence you easily.” At the very least he would cast muffliato on himself, the static buzzing would be preferable to whatever her woes were. Heart to hearts had never been their style, and he was content to keep it that way. Severus wasn’t so sure he would go as far to describe her as a friend - he had little use for friends, after all - but he was comfortable enough to sit in relative quiet with Amelia.
“Work or personal? Because that distinction will differ where to draw the line. If it is work, depending on how much the salary is, I would say it’s worth holding out on drawing the line, saving what money you can.” He paused, setting his can down. “Is it really that bad at the Ministry?”
With a muttered, “Flew off before I could tell,” under her breath, she leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms at him.
“No one has to ask about how I prefer to receive my product and how I like to pay for it. Especially not a stranger.” Doris clucked her tongue at him like a disappointed mother. Was she thinking of what she could do which would most irritate this unwelcome sourpuss? Of course. Was she finding the best way to make herself look helpful in the same breadth? Absolutely.
Snatching the croissant from the man, she turned around and offered it tenderly to the clerk. “My friend really wanted a chocolate croissant, and he really doesn’t want to be a bother so he would never ask you himself, but is there anyway you can make a fresh batch? This one is burnt,” and for added emphasis (and maybe so the man couldn’t simply ask for it back), tapped on the hard crust with a rounded nail and split it in half to expose the slightly charred cross-section with a kind smile, big eyes imploring the kid for any amount of sympathy. And it worked. Hesitantly, he took both halves from her fingers and put in an order to the chef.
__
“I’ll assume that it didn’t in that case. I’m sure that if the pigeon hadn’t been satisfied with the... questionable filling it would sought you out for retribution.” Had he really been reduced to a conversation about pastry eating pigeons? How the mighty have fallen.
A dark brow rose. “I may very well be mistaken, but I was under the assumption that these sorts of establishments operated in a set way. Perhaps you’d be better suited to somewhere that takes your order at the table. Normally there you pay after.” He needed to get out of there. Severus would go spare if he had to spend a minute longer with the woman.
He barely had time to open his mouth to protest. Eyes narrowing, he stared at Doris as he took the croissant from his grasp. Once the cashier had turned to talk to the chef, Severus turned to her. “That was entirely unnecessary. Unlike yourself, I’m not overly picky when it comes to pastries.” Unless it was something savory, he had little fondness for them. “Is it your goal to irritate everyone who crosses your path?”
“Dunno. I only had a bite of it before a pigeon snatched it from my hands just out those doors. It wasn’t chocolate is all, I think.” This man seemed as sour as that one bite of croissant had been. Doris hadn’t been like him, as in, this cross with a stranger since - well, since a few hours prior, when the barista had refused to pour a shot of his whiskey into the coffee he was making for her. Who cared that he’d a flask on the job - it was just impolite to refuse her when he’d been caught red-handed!
She squinted at him, eyebrow raised, and slowly - painfully slowly (so slow, in fact, that she ended up at the counter, the cashier uncomfortably shifting as he waited for payment) - munched the muffin down to the paper without breaking her gaze on him. “Why don’t you mind your own business, eh?” Both the muffin paper and a few sicles were tossed on the counter.
“Aren’t you supposed to thank people when they give you warnings?”
“I take it that the pigeon had no complaints.” Really, was he supposed to be interested in this? Is this what now passed for conversation in this new era? Shameful, if it was. Severus’ patience was steadily wheedling away with every second that passed.
Severus held her gaze, unwilling to back down. What had he done to deserve this? The woman was... well, he wasn’t sure what to make of her, but whatever it was, he knew it wasn’t positive. He shrugged. “You’re making it everyone’s business. It’s rather obvious, you know. Perhaps some discretion might be something you should consider.” A slight smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as the coins fell to the counter.
“Don’t recommend that one.” The words were mumbled around mouthfuls of crumbly muffin, cheeks puffed wide as could be. Perhaps the other person queued up behind her didn’t care for unwarranted advice, but that’s not how Doris rolled.
She eyed up the pastry in the other’s hand. Her nose wrinkled as she examined the dark creme that had spilled from its innards. “It’s not chocolate. Looks like it is, I know. But from my own personal experience and mistake, on Merlin, that is not chocolate.”
She took another munch of her muffin, shrugged, and faced forward again. If Doris was sure of one thing, it was that her advice was some of the best to be taken. If this person had any brains, she thought, they’d put it back right away at her suggestion.
The bakery hadn’t seemed as busy as the other places on Diagon Alley and so it presented itself as a safe bet. Severus, however, came to quickly regret the decision. Picking up the least burnt chocolate croissant, his head turned suddenly, eyes narrowing at the woman in front of him in the queue. “And what, exactly, is it?”
He didn’t have the time nor the patience for this. If he wanted to be bothered over his lunch hour he would had lunch in the break room. “Now, I might be mistaken, but aren’t you supposed to pay for the food before eating it when it’s counter service?” His lip curled into a sneer as he eyed the muffin crumbs. Distasteful.
Amelia hated the stress that was weighing her down at work. She’d wanted to join the Ministry for as long as she could remember – her parents were actively part of the government, and while Diggory and Edgar hadn’t seemed keen on following in their footsteps, Amelia inherited the so-called political gene that drove her parents in their field. Even so, when she started her first day in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, they hadn’t been in the middle of an active war; nothing got better when the war ended, because Lord Voldemort won.
Stress weighted her down heavily, and sometimes all a person needed to get through the day was a few stiff drinks. She’d planned to drink alone, letting the chaos of the day roll off her with each glass, but someone sat next to her and intruded in her space. Amelia didn’t bother to hide her groan, glaring at the person and saying, “Can’t you read a room? I don’t need the company.”
It wasn’t often that Severus found himself in the pub after work, but it was one of those days were he wanted a bit of space before returning home to his family, who were, at the best of times, overbearing. Can of pop in hand, dark eyes scanned the dingy pub. There were no empty tables for him to skulk off to, and the last thing he wanted was to make small talk with the patrons propping up the bar. Spying a familiar face he quickly made the decision.
“And that is precisely why I’m here.” He stated as he set the can down before taking a sip. “You’re the only one in this place who won’t bother me, Bones.” Surely that would be obvious to even her? He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
full name: Severus Tobias Snape Aurelius Prince
date of birth: 9th January 1960
blood status: Half-blood
gender: Male
preferred pronouns: He/him
hometown: Cokeworth, Lancashire
resides in: Crowden, Derbyshire
current occupation: Potioneer
language(s) spoken: English, latin
native language: English
current marital status: Single
𝒻𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎
father: Tobias Prince (muggle, deceased)
mother: Eileen Prince
other family members: Septimius & Geileis (maternal grandparents), Octavius (maternal uncle)
𝓅𝒽𝓎𝓈𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁
looks like: Aneurin Barnard
height: 5′11″
figure/build: Lean
hair colour: Black
hair length: Medium
eye colour: Black
skin tone: Fair
birthmarks/scars/distinguishing marks: Dark Mark on left forearm, too many scars to mention
dominant hand: Ambidextrous but favours his right outside of brewing
usual style of clothing: Mostly black, maybe the odd bit of white or grey. Dresses like a cross between Ian Curtis and Dave Vanian. Very much influenced by the burgeoning goth scene
frequently worn jewellery: Prince family signet ring on the little finger of his right hand.
describe their voice, what accent? pitch? strength?: Baritone with a distinct Lancastrian accent he’s never been able to lose, though it has softened over the years. (Basically this)
what is their speaking style?: Quiet, slow, deliberate
describe their scent: Leather, old books, wood smoke, oakmoss, cypress, bergamot, pine, patchouli, cedarwood, basil
how are your character’s gestures?: He’s not really one to talk with his hands, but will if he’s particularly enthusiastic about a subject, in which case they’re fast and small
𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎
brief description of how they act: Reserved, polite, sometimes seen as disinterested
positive traits: Intelligent, determined, curious
negative traits: Stubborn, prideful, duplicitous
likes: Books, music (both muggle), experimenting
dislikes: Coffee, alcohol, early mornings
strengths: Thirst for knowledge, resourceful, self-reliant
weaknesses: Entirely too sensitive, prone to lashing out, short-tempered
fears/phobias: Confined spaces, snakes, spiders
habits/quirks: Has a terrible sweet tooth, smokes entirely too much
hobbies: Reading, listening to music, concerts, playing piano, experimenting with spells and potions, stargazing
𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓇
hogwarts house: Slytherin
year of graduation: 1978
best subject: Potions
worst subject: Transfiguration
mastery: Potions (under Cornelius Ponter)
workplace: St Mungo’s (part time)
department: Potions
𝑒𝓍𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓈
wand: Ebony, dragon heartstring, 13″, unyielding
patronus: Crow - symbol of change and strength
enneagram: Type 5 (The Investigator) wing 4 (The Iconoclast)
mbti: ISTJ-A
moral alignment: True Neutral
deadly sin: Pride
temperament: Melancholic
virtue: Diligence
star sign: Capricorn
celtic animal sign: Deer
𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈
- Was briefly a spy for the Order in the final months before Voldemort’s win
- His blood status is not common knowledge, only Lily and his family know that he’s a half-blood
- His father died under mysterious circumstances not long before Severus’ eleventh birthday. Severus and Eileen returned to the Prince estate just outside of Crowden, in the Longdendale Valley
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