Nov 2, 2023
Therapist: Your traumatic response to James Potter is valid, but you can’t expect Harry Potter to be a carbon copy of James. Your daughter isn’t a carbon copy of you, is she?
Snape: You haven’t met my daughter.
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Therapist: Your traumatic response to James Potter is valid, but you can’t expect Harry Potter to be a carbon copy of James. Your daughter isn’t a carbon copy of you, is she?
Snape: You haven’t met my daughter.
Rickmas 2023: Day 3. Snowballing | Snape & Abbie
Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:
Severus stood on the balcony of his office, high in the towers of Hogwarts, looking out on the snow-covered grounds of the school. It was the Christmas holidays, and unsurprisingly all the students had chosen to go home. No more was Hogwarts a place of comfort for students; now, it was a place of terror.
And so the grounds were silent, the snow untouched except by the occasional creature wandering out of the forest, but even they stayed away from the castle these days.
Severus was peacefully ruminating on the difficulty of his position as a spy, a headmaster and a father, when he was suddenly attacked… by a snowball!
He spluttered, waving his wand to quickly vanish the snow from his face. The snowball had definitely come from below. He leaned over the parapet to spy his assailant in the courtyard below. She was but a black speck against the white snow, but Severus knew there could only be one culprit. There was only one person in the castle - perhaps in the entire world - who would dare throw a snowball at Severus Snape.
“ABIGAIL!” he yelled, fully aware that he couldn’t hear her.
Down in the courtyard, Abbie was in fits of laughter. High up in his tower, her father was almost invisible, but she could just about make him out now, uselessly yelling something at her. Probably something along the lines of: Abigail Payne, how dare you throw a snowball at I, Severus Snape, the master of this school! I am vengeance, I am justice, I am the night, and I shall not be made a fool of!
What he was actually saying was a series of expletives which were carried off into the wind.
Abbie couldn’t have predicted what he did next.
As a reward for killing Dumbledore, the Dark Lord had taught Severus a skill so rare, so difficult, many thought it impossible: broomless flight.
It was a difficult feat, and one Severus saved only for emergencies. This was definitely an emergency.
He levitated himself down from the balcony, and as he descended, Severus also enchanted the snow that had settled on the tower to shape itself into balls and follow him, his collection of snowballs amassing quickly as the ground came up towards him, and Abbie was far too shocked at seeing her father flying to begin her escape from his army of snowballs.
That was her mistake, and she regretted it when her father landed several feet in front of her with a plethora of snowballs at his disposal.
“You’ll rue the day you challenged Severus Snape to a snowball fight, Abigail,” he said dangerously.
Ever the Gryffindor, Abbie simply steeled herself, wand at the ready.
“Bring it.”
Barrage. Storm. Cascade. Blitz. Assault… whatever one might call Severus’ actions, nothing could describe the feeling of sheer terror and cold that Abbie felt when several hundred snowballs bombarded her at once. She threw up a shield charm and the snowballs began bouncing off it harmlessly, but still he had to maintain it as the ammunition just kept coming.
Severus was having a great time. He just kept making more snowballs to send at her, and he stood and watched as Abbie struggled to maintain her shield charm long enough to protect herself. Eventually, her shield began to falter and break, leaving her wide open to attack.
“Expelliarmus!”
His wand flew out of his hand, and Abbie dived for it, grabbing it from where it fell in the snow before he could get to it.
“Yield!” she called.
“Never!” he replied. “I grew up on the streets of Cokeworth - you think I need a wand to win a fight?”
He reached down into the snow on the ground and began forming a snowball, but with two wands in her hand Abbie managed to melt his snowball and pelt a new one at him at the same time.
“Two against none!” she teased.
“I’ll get you for this!”
Severus had only one option left - he tackled her, pulling her to the ground, and the shock caused her to drop both wands, which were quickly buried under the snow.
“Shit, the wands —“
“Yield!”
“No!”
She was on her back, buried in snow, freezing cold, and despite his skinny frame, her father was surprisingly strong, keeping her pinned to the ground easily.
“Yield, Miss Payne. Say, I’m sorry for throwing a snowball at you, Professor Snape. I’ll never do it again, Professor Snape.”
“Fuck off am I saying that!”
“Then you’ll just have to stay here forever.”
He shoved a handful of snow in her face, as if to bury her beneath it, and the shock of the cold to her face was too much.
“Okay, okay, I yield! You win!”
He released her, and though she was winded, Abbie couldn’t help but laugh. Severus salvaged their two wands from the snow, then heaved her up to her feet. Her robes were covered in snow, her face was bright red, and Severus laughed at the absurdity of it.
“Well, you lost, as was inevitable,” he said, handing her her wand back.
“No, I won. I wasn’t trying to beat you.”
“Oh? Then what were you trying to do?”
“Make you smile.”
That earned her another snowball to the face, but Severus appreciated it all the same. It had been a long time since he had taken a moment to forget the worries he carried, but for a short time, he had indeed forgotten them, his focus entirely on defeating his daughter in battle.
“Don’t tell a soul,” he warned her. “My reputation as the terrifying git is more important now than ever.”
“Of course I won’t,” Abbie said as she linked arms with him to make their way back inside to the warmth of the castle. “Nobody would believe me anyway. Hey, speaking of unbelievable things - since when the fuck can you fly?”
Rickmas 2023: Day 20. Returning Home | Snape & Abbie
AN: This is a repost of a one-shot I posted before but it fits the prompt so perfectly I couldn’t bring myself to do anything else! (Also I am lazy lol)
Art by @reinekefoxart!
Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:
December 1999
Abbie was exhausted. She’d endured an eight-hour flight, she was jetlagged, and the muggle border control had almost seen the magical flora she’d brought back with her before she managed to surreptitiously cast a charm to disguise it.
She was actually home a day earlier than promised. She wasn’t sure she could handle meeting her family at the airport - it had been hard enough for her when they’d seen her off. She’d much rather see them for the first time in a more comfortable and less public setting. So she had moved her flight a day earlier, and decided to surprise them at home.
She was too exhausted to apparate, especially carrying heavy luggage, so she hailed the Knight Bus and tried not to vomit as it jumped around the country, eventually landing outside the cottage she had missed so much. They’d been living in it barely more than a year when she left, but it already felt more like home to her than either of her parents’ previous houses.
As she pulled her suitcase up the path, Abbie looked up at the windows. The lights were off upstairs, and only the living room light was on - her sisters were probably already asleep, her mother in the living room and her father either there with her or in his study.
Abbie tried to suppress the grin on her face, but she couldn’t help it. It had been an incredible few months, and she was looking forward to her next semester, but she had been so homesick, and she was excited to see them again.
She knocked on the door. She could have let herself in, but she was her father’s daughter and she wanted to add some flair to her unexpected arrival.
The door opened a crack. Then, after a moment’s pause, it opened fully.
“You cheeky bugger!” Persephone laughed. “Come here.”
She pulled her daughter into a hug, and Abbie melted into her mother’s familiar embrace.
“Oh, I missed you!” Persephone said with relief.
“I missed you too, Mum,” Abbie replied with a grin on her face. “Are the girls asleep?”
“Yes, I just put them down an hour ago. How have you been?” Persephone stepped back to usher Abbie inside, taking her suitcase in for her. “Have you been eating properly? Are you keeping safe?”
Abbie laughed. “Great, yes, and yes. It’s amazing how much safer I feel when there’s no Death Eaters lurking in the shadows.”
“Speaking of which - Severus!” Persephone called. He was, unsurprisingly, in his study. “Look who’s here!”
With less than a day to Abbie’s return, Severus was getting anxious. He had been counting down the days to her return since she’d left. He knew he’d miss her, but he’d had no idea just how much; it felt as if he were missing a limb. Or, more accurately, it was as if he were missing a piece of his soul. She wrote, of course, but owls couldn’t fly across the Atlantic and so they had to rely on muggle post, which took far too long for Severus’ liking. He was proud of her for following her dreams, of course he was, but did those dreams really have to be three thousand miles across the ocean?
And so, on the day before she was due to arrive, Severus’ tension was at an all time high. Persephone had taken the girls to bed, leaving him to distract himself the way he knew best - by locking himself in his study and working until something or someone reminded him of the outside world.
That reminder came when he heard his wife’s voice calling his name.
“Severus! Look who’s here!”
Severus sighed. He didn’t care a jolt who may be visiting them so late at night. Abbie wasn’t back until tomorrow, and so there was nobody it could be that would interest him.
When he didn’t respond, she knocked on the door. “Sev!” Persephone called again.
“Tell them to sod off,” Severus called back.
“Oh, fine, I’ll just fly back to New York, then.”
Severus froze. He recognised her voice immediately, and he knew no one else who would have flown from New York - and nobody else quite as sarcastic, although Potter gave her a good run for her money.
He practically leapt from his desk, ignoring the bang of his knee against the corner as he hurried to fling the door open and step out into the hallway.
Sure enough… there she was. She grinned at him.
Forgetting all decorum, Severus strode across the hall to her; she met him halfway, and they collided into a tight embrace as effortlessly as if it were rehearsed.
It felt as if something had slotted into place. It was like taking a sip of cold water when desperately thirsty, or that first bite of food on a starving stomach. A human needs food, water and sleep to survive, but Severus had a fourth need - he needed his best friend.
Abbie clung to him as tightly as he did to her, as if they were both afraid of losing the other again. Severus felt a tear run down his cheek, but he didn’t care. It was a tear of relief, of joy, to have his daughter home again.
“I missed you,” Abbie mumbled into his shoulder.
“And I, you,” Severus replied softly. He kissed her gently on the side of her head - oh, how he had missed those little affections - and pulled back to look at her.
He frowned.
“What the fuck is this?” he asked, lifting a finger to her hair to examine a streak of purple that sat beneath her black locks.
“I knew you wouldn’t like it,” Abbie laughed. “Funnily enough, that didn’t deter me.”
“I suppose the thought only encouraged you.”
Abbie grinned mischievously. Severus couldn’t resist a small smile, relieved as he was to have his daughter home, the smartarse that she was.
“Are you two still having your moment?” Persephone asked as she arrived back at the base of the stairs. “I can come back later.”
“We’re done,” Abbie promised, although Severus disagreed, but he allowed her to step away from him. “I know it’s late, but can I have some dinner? The food on the plane was garbage.”
“Oh, Merlin, she’s speaking like them now,” Severus sighed. “Remember you’re a Hogwarts girl, Abbie, not Ilvermorny.”
“Oh, there’s a boy in my suite who’s from Ilvermorny!” Abbie said excitedly as Persephone began rummaging around in the freezer for food.
“How do you know? You weren’t risking magic in front of muggles, I hope?” Severus asked sternly.
Abbie squirmed uncomfortably. “Actually, he recognised me. Well… my name. Well… your name.”
“Our name,” Persephone reminded her. “We’ve only got frozen pizza, by the way, we were going to go shopping tomorrow before you got in.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. Anyway, I introduced myself and he asked if my father was Severus Snape. Turns out you’re famous over there now too.”
“Oh, Merlin,” Severus sighed.
“But he’s the only one! Nobody else knew. It was nice, actually, to at least have one person over there who knew I’m a witch, but to everybody else I was completely anonymous. People know who I am because of me, not because of you.”
Severus smiled, although his heart twinged with a little sadness too that her new life was so completely separate from him.
“Did he tell you about the Ilvermorny houses?” Persephone asked as she placed the pizza in the oven and set the timer.
“Yes, and I reckon I’d be in Pukwudgie.”
Severus scoffed. “Pukwudgie? Really? What a ridiculous name.”
Persephone looked at them both thoughtfully. “No, she’s right,” she said. “Well, you’re both right - it is a stupid name, but it represents the heart. And no one has a bigger heart than our Abbie.”
“What house do you think you’d be in?” Abbie asked.
“Horned Serpent,” Persephone replied. “You too, Sev.”
Severus humphed. “Well, I suppose that sounds most similar to Slytherin.”
“Actually, it’s more like Ravenclaw. There isn’t really an equivalent to Slytherin. But, yes, it is snakey.”
“Snakey,” Abbie repeated with a laugh. “Snapey and snakey?”
“Exactly!”
Severus shook his head in dismay. He knew it wouldn’t be long until the twins started talking - Ariadne had already managed a few words - and he’d no doubt be subjected to even more nonsense.
He sighed. “Well, Abbie, would you like to join us to watch a film tonight, or would you rather head straight to bed?”
Abbie rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure, because I came home a day early because I missed my bed.” She nudged him playfully. “I came because I missed you, you dolt. What are we watching?”
“We were trying to decide earlier but we couldn’t agree,” Persephone said, leading them into the sitting area.
“Oh, is this the DVD player Dad bought you?” Abbie asked curiously, recalling the letter she’d received a little over a week after her mother’s birthday.
“No, it’s the DVD player your sisters bought me,” Persephone corrected her.
“Oh, right, of course. They bought it. With their money.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, they don’t have money,” Severus sighed. “The shopkeeper simply gave it to them when he saw how cute they are.”
Abbie nodded, as if this were a completely sensible thing to happen. “Well, if you two can’t decide what to watch, I’ll choose something.” She looked through the handful of DVDs that were sitting on a shelf, while her parents settled back into their seats.
“Ha! Told you!” Persephone exclaimed victoriously when Abbie chose Se7en.
“And where am I supposed to sit?” Abbie asked when she turned back towards them and saw that Persephone was sat on the end of the sofa, her legs on Severus’ lap as he sat in the middle.
“With me, of course,” Severus said matter-of-factly. He gestured to the remaining seat next to him, and with a roll of her eyes Abbie sat, cuddling up to him before hitting play on the remote.
“Worth coming home early for?” Severus asked softly as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into an embrace.
Abbie smiled. “Definitely.”
“And where am I supposed to sit?” Abbie asked when she turned back towards them and saw that Persephone was sat on the end of the sofa, her legs on Severus’ lap as he sat in the middle. “With me, of course,” Severus said matter-of-factly. He gestured to the remaining seat next to him, and with a roll of her eyes Abbie sat, cuddling up to him before hitting play on the remote. “Worth coming home early for?” Severus asked softly as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into an embrace. Abbie smiled. “Definitely.”
Home for Christmas
Art by @reinekefoxart
For that author ask: Perspective Flip
I’ve been wanting to read a fic from Snape’s pov (first person) for a while
First of all, thanks for your patience, Anon. It took me a few days to decide which scene I wanted to try from Snape's POV, and then I had to find time to write it.
Because I hate myself, I didn't choose a fluffy or smutty scene, but went for the ultimate angst and chose his death scene 🙃
Not The End
Content/warnings: blood, Snape lives, but he doesn't think so, soul of ice spoilers
Read on Ao3 or below:
When the Dark Lord gave the command, my heart dropped.
It could not end this way. I hadn’t yet reached Potter, I hadn’t told Persephone I loved her one last time, I hadn’t said my goodbyes to my daughter…
I screamed. I couldn’t help it. The pain of the snake’s fangs sinking into my neck was too great. It felt as if she were trying to sever my very head from my shoulders, but instead she tore a chunk from my neck, penetrating my jugular with precision. She withdrew, and I felt my knees buckle.
I had failed. Failed in my final task, leaving it all for naught. I had failed them all, all who relied on me, whether they knew it or not. Failed my daughter, whose voice I could hear now, screaming for me…
My back hit the wall behind me, just as something exploded some feet away - I closed my eyes instinctively, and when I fell, it felt as if the floor would never reach me. The Dark Lord was speaking, and yet I was still falling…
Except I wasn’t falling. My eyes fluttered open as I realised I hadn’t yet hit the ground… because I had been caught.
In the distance, I saw the Dark Lord’s robes sweep behind him as he left the room, leaving behind his favourite servant to bleed to death.
I turned my head as much as I could, and I swore I was hallucinating.
How could she be here?
She was in the castle, hopefully safe but doubtless fighting - why would she be in the Shrieking Shack?
She must have followed me. The stupid, brilliant girl that she was, refusing to leave my side even at the end of all things.
“Abbie…” I mumbled, not daring to raise my voice with such pain searing through my neck. Even so, I was determined to speak, to tell her all I could. “I -”
“Shut up!” Abbie yelled, and I felt my blood on my cheek. No, that wasn’t right - it wasn’t blood at all. It was her tears, my daughter’s tears, sobbing as she held my dying form. Too much pain, too much, for one so young…
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking die on me, you idiot.”
If I had any strength left, I might have chuckled. As it was, I managed only the faintest of gasps. Despite the horror she was enduring, my brave daughter kept herself together enough to withdraw her wand and incant a spell I had taught her many years ago.
“Vulnera sanentur… vulnera sanentur…”
Whether the spell was working or not, I had no idea - the sting of skin stitching together would be drowned out by the pain I was in as the snake’s poison spread through my veins.
It turns out the old adage is true: your life really does flash before your eyes in the moments before you die.
As she continued to cast her spell, fighting back against her sobs, I recalled the day our roles were reversed; the day I had cradled her unconscious body in my arms as she bled out, and it had taken all the occlumency I could muster to push down my fear and focus on healing her wound.
She could not save me, I was sure of it. But she could keep me alive a little longer, long enough that I could complete my final task, that I could die knowing I hadn’t failed her in the end.
I had spent my entire life keeping my thoughts, my feelings and my memories locked securely inside my mind. Now, I opened the floodgates and allowed it all to rush out, the memories streaming out of my eyes, my mouth, my ears.
“Potter,” I mumbled. “Take… it…”
I hadn’t even realised he was there. I had expected Abbie to take the memories to him. But suddenly he was there, a vial in his hand, scooping up as many of my memories as he could. I looked up at him, and for the first time, I looked past James’ face and into Lily’s eyes, a glistening emerald green; and despite it all, despite the hatred and distrust between us, still Potter seemed to fear for my life.
He backed away, his hand wrapped securely around the vial, and I knew my job was done.
I felt the poison begin to take me, and my vision was fading. Instinctively, I grabbed my daughter’s arm, holding her for the last time as tightly as I could with the little strength I had.
“Abbie… remember… remember I love you…”
She had to know. I had told her, yes, but not enough, not nearly enough. I should have told her every day, every time I saw her. I should have made sure she knew I loved her more than I ever believed was possible.
The stubborn girl didn’t give up. I wanted her to embrace me, to let me die holding her, but instead she applied a salve to my neck, and fresh tears fell from her eyes as she cursed loudly, my death not yet over.
“He’s poisoned!” Abbie cried out in a broken voice. “Help me sit him up.”
I felt several pairs of hands lift me from Abbie’s lap and place me against the wall, but I lacked even the strength to lift my head.
She would never give up. That, I was sure of. She would fight until my last breath, never admitting defeat. She was too stubborn, too brave, to take any other course. She loved me too much.
A bezoar, Potter suggested. Yes, a bezoar, just like the one I threw down her throat all those years ago, back when I was so foolish as to think I could live a life without her, until she had threatened to take it away herself and I pulled her back from the brink by sheer luck that I carried a bezoar at all times.
It was a habit befitting a potions master… a habit that I had difficulty breaking even after leaving the post.
A habit I still practised to that day.
A glimmer of hope. A spark of possibility. A dream that perhaps - maybe - if I was fortunate… it might not be the end after all.
That hope was all I had left, and it gave me the strength I needed to lift my hand to my pocket. Yes, it was there, I could feel it… the smallest of stones, sitting in the depths of my pocket, waiting for this day.
“Here…” I mumbled. “M’pocket…”
A hand reached into my pocket, and then my daughter was pushing the stone between my lips, tilting my head back.
“Swallow it!” she begged. “Swallow it or I’ll kill you myself!”
Swallow… yes. I felt as if I had only seconds to live, my vision was fading, my thoughts were slowing… but my love for her still burned like a fire in my heart, and so I drew strength from there, strength enough to swallow the stone.
It was mere moments before the stone’s magic began to rush through my veins, but the moments stretched themselves thin, my heart pounding as it fought back against the poison.
It must have worked, because she cried out with relief and buried her head against my shoulder. And… yes, my strength had come back some, as I lifted my arm to cradle her head. I tried to smile. Whether I managed, I didn’t know, because she was sobbing with her head pressed against my heart.
“You idiot!” she cried into my robes. “You stupid - fucking - dickhead - moron - asshole! Don’t you ever - ever - do that again!”
Yes, it was working, alright. I could feel the antipoison rushing through my veins. My heartbeat rose again, my vision cleared… and there she was, looking at me now. She was covered in her tears and my blood, her hair was a mess, and she was beautiful. An angel come to save me from the brink of death.
I blinked slowly. I felt light in the head, and although my grip on consciousness was fading still, I knew now that I was only passing out.
“Abbie…” I mumbled. I had so much to say to her. I love you. You are extraordinary. I love you. I’m going to sleep now. I love you. I promise to wake up. I love you, I love you, I love you.
“May I… pass out now?” I asked.
She laughed. Despite everything, she laughed at the notion that I would ask for permission.
“Yes,” she said. “Just make sure you wake up again.”
I smiled.
“I… promise…”
And I meant it.
Then I slept.
Abbie
Abbie calls Severus 'Dad' for the first time.
Dad Snape & Daughter!OC
Read on Ao3 or under the cut:
August 1994
Severus was reeling, Abbie’s words echoing in his mind.
Thanks, Dad.
Dad. She’d called him Dad. Was it accidental? Was she embarrassed? He’d slipped out of the room so quickly he had no time to gauge her reaction. He stood in the kitchen now, staring at the washing up he should be doing but instead trying to preserve the memory in his mind in case it was an accident and she’d be calling him Professor again shortly.
For some time now, he’d been resisting calling her Abbie. He felt it presumptuous to do so, to decide that their relationship had become so familiar. How could he, her teacher and estranged father, be so bold as to call her by a nickname?
And yet… she had called him Dad. Not Father as Draco called Lucius, but Dad, an affectionate name in itself. It supposed not just the biological fact of fatherhood, but an intimate relationship between parent and child.
He had come to terms some time ago with the fact of being her father… but being her dad was another realm entirely. It was something he knew nothing of. How could he, when he had no dad of his own? He had a father, yes, but Tobias Snape had never been a dad.
He wondered if she had been thinking of him as ‘Dad’ for a while, but never daring to call him such, just as he was concerned with calling her Abbie. He hadn’t done enough to deserve the honour of being ‘Dad’, he was sure of it. Yes, he’d saved her from an overdose, but he’d have done the same for any student. And yes, he was looking after her this summer - but only by the vaguest description of the word. She was independent enough to look after herself, and if anything, she was doing more cooking than he was. And true, he had looked after her today when her first period came, but what sort of father would he be if he was unable to care for his teenage daughter through such a time in her life?
He wanted to ask her. Did you mean to call me Dad? Do you think of me as Dad? Are you sure you want me as Dad?
He would test the waters, he decided. Observe if she was embarrassed with him, and if not, perhaps he would even dare to test the waters himself and watch her reaction if he called her Abbie…
—
It took him a few days to muster up the courage. It was a stupid thing to be worried about, really. He had faced countless horrors in his life, and yet here he was, anxious about showing his daughter affection.
He almost did it the first day. He gave her space for a few hours, then called her into the kitchen for dinner. He watched her carefully, but she didn’t seem to show any indication that she was embarrassed about her earlier slip. Nor did she call him Dad again, but she didn’t use any other form of address either. So he decided to wait a little longer. If she called him Dad again, he decided, then he would try calling her Abbie.
It happened on the second day. As was now a habitual occurrence, when she realised he had again skipped breakfast, she brought a plate into his study.
“Dad, you really need to eat more,” she said as she entered the room, one hand pushing the door closed and the other balancing a plate of bacon and eggs on toast.
His stomach leapt when he heard it, but he kept a cool expression. He had fooled the Dark Lord for over a year; he could fool a teenager.
“I eat as much as I need,” he replied curtly. “I seem to have survived so far.”
“Oh, so you won’t be needing this, then.” Abbie turned back to take the plate away.
“Don’t you dare.”
Abbie smirked triumphantly - which made her look frustratingly like her mother - and placed the plate on his desk.
“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” she remarked. She hesitated, as if waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t speak, pretending instead to be interested in his work, she turned and left.
When the door closed behind her, Severus let out a sigh. He should have echoed her words. Thank you, Abbie. I’m glad you’re here, Abbie. Will you stay every summer, Abbie, and bring your mother too?
On the third day, Severus was determined to do it. What was the worst that could happen, that she would ask him to call her Abigail? That she would reject his attempt to connect, insisting on a barrier remaining in place between them?
Well, perhaps that would be the worst for him. For her, it would be the best scenario, to keep her distance.
He was in the garden that morning when he heard her banging pots and pans around in the kitchen as she began to cook. He had only a small patch of garden behind his house, but he utilised the space the best he could to nurture ingredients that bloomed their best in the summer.
He hadn’t realised she had poked her head out of the back door until he heard her voice.
“Do you want breakfast?”
He stood and turned, surprised. She had never asked before; she had simply presented it to him when she realised he never ate it for himself. But he had always accepted it, and he always cleared his plate.
“I wouldn’t turn it down,” he said.
“But do you want it?”
He realised then what she was asking. She wanted to know if he really did appreciate it when she cooked, or was he eating it merely out of politeness?
“Yes,” Severus said sincerely. “I do. If… it’s offered.” I will never ask. What sort of father asks his daughter to feed him?
“Good, because I already made it. Come on.”
Inside, Severus noticed that the table was set not with her usual fry-up, but a stack of pancakes on each of two plates.
“Eat the butcher out of bacon, did you?” he remarked.
“I thought I’d try something different. Do you have any jam, by the way? I couldn’t - oh!” She gasped in surprise as a jar of jam came flying from a cupboard and set itself down on the table between them. Severus put his wand back into his pocket, smirking.
“The Ministry wouldn’t notice if you performed underage magic, you know. They’d simply believe it was I casting the spell.”
“Are you suggesting I break the rules, Professor Snape?” Abbie gasped in mock horror.
“Never, Miss Payne. An observation, that’s all.”
They both sat down to eat, and Severus scoffed as he watched Abbie unload jam onto her pancakes.
“Restrain yourself, Abbie. You’ll drown them with that much jam.”
They both froze then. He hadn’t even said it consciously. It was so natural, so normal, and he was so comfortable that it just slipped out.
“You just called me Abbie.”
Severus raised an eyebrow. “Yes, and I believe you’ve called me Dad twice now.”
“We’re there now, are we?”
“I don’t know. Are we?”
There was a long pause. Then, Abbie glanced down at Severus’ plate, which contained a single pancake.
“If you’re going to eat it so plain, at least eat more than one.”
Two of the pancakes lifted themselves from the stack and joined the first on his plate.
“Was that underage magic I just saw?”
“Dunno what you’re talking about,” Abbie replied nonchalantly as she added sugar to her jam with pancakes. “Maybe the pancakes just really wanna be eaten.”
“So you’re not holding your wand under the table?”
A clattering sound came from under the table, sounding suspiciously like the sound of a wand hitting the floor.
“No.”
Severus shook his head, choosing not to pursue this battle.
“Just so you know, I’m tallying up points to take from Gryffindor when term starts. You’ll be in negative numbers by the 2nd of September.”
Abbie grinned cheekily. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Dad.”
Yes, was the message. We are there now.
Devil’s Claw
Summary: Dad Snape | Severus is hungover, and Abbie has the cure.
@hpcanon-oc-fest prompts: Potions + telling the truth, obviousness, hangover
Read now below the cut:
9th August 1994
By the time Abbie woke up and dragged herself downstairs, it was past midday, and for the first time in Spinner’s End, she was the only one up.
She’d been staying there for the summer, with just herself and Snape in the house. She didn’t consider herself that much of a late riser - on weekends during termtime, she was usually up after Hermione but before Parvati and Lavender - but it was impossible to get up any earlier than Snape. Sometimes Abbie wondered if her father even went to bed at all.
Today, however, he was nowhere to be seen. It was the day after her 14th birthday, and in the evening Snape had let her drink - real drink, not the butterbeer that was served at the Three Broomsticks, so weak that children could have it. He had even let her try his firewhisky, though she quickly turned down anything more than a sip and stuck to the bottle of wine he had procured for her.
It was the first time Abbie had ever gotten drunk. Snape had tried to restrict her intake, but Abbie had won him over with an insistence that she was going to get drunk eventually so she might as well get drunk with him to watch her.
Abbie had expected to discover exactly what a hangover felt like, but she felt absolutely fine. She knocked on her father’s bedroom door to check if he was awake, but heard nothing. She tried the door, but it was locked.
“Go away, Abigail,” Snape groaned from the other side of the door.
“Are you okay? It’s past midday.”
No response. She knocked again.
“Piss off!”
Abbie stifled a giggle. She may not be hungover, but he definitely was. She retreated, leaving the bat to mope in his cave, and made her way downstairs quietly.
She’d seen her mum hungover a few times. Not often - being a single mother doesn’t allow for much time for drinking - but enough that Abbie knew what a hungover adult was like: groggy, grumpy, hungry, and sporting a pounding headache.
Well, Snape was going to have to come out of his cave at some point, and when he did she didn’t want to have to put up with his grumpiness. So she busied herself in the kitchen, making the cooked breakfast that she made for him most mornings, but this time she added a few extra ingredients from his ingredient store in the basement.
She made a large mug of coffee just how he liked it - black with a sprinkle of cinnamon - and carried the tray up the stairs, wishing not for the first time that she could do magic outside of school. She knew she could get away with it - the Trace wouldn’t work as she was with Snape, so the Ministry wouldn’t be able to tell who was performing the magic, especially as she didn’t actually live there so they had no idea there even was an underage witch in the house. But she was less scared of the Ministry than she was of Snape, and she knew she’d be in big trouble if he caught her doing magic outside of school.
She balanced the tray in one hand and knocked on the door. There was no response, so she kept knocking until she heard grumbling and shuffling footsteps. Snape opened the door, his trademark irritable sneer on his face - which was significantly less effective when he was wearing an old grey nightgown and not his billowing robes.
“What?” he snapped.
“Are you hungover?”
“Obviously.”
“Well, I made breakfast. And coffee.” She held up the tray a little higher in case he hadn’t noticed it. “Mum always likes greasy food and caffeine when she’s hungover. And I added some Devil’s Claw as well, for the headache.”
Snape looked between Abbie and the tray, as if deciding whether to turn her away or not. He compromised by taking the tray from her and closing the door in her face.
“You’re welcome,” she muttered to the door before heading downstairs to make her own breakfast.
She was just clearing up in the kitchen when she heard the distant sound of the shower running. A little while after that, Snape appeared in the living room, looking considerably more alive than he had earlier. Abbie was sitting at her piano when he entered, and he approached her almost awkwardly.
He cleared his throat, and she looked up at him.
“Thank you,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed. “The Devil’s Claw was a good idea. Five points to Gryffindor.”
“I don’t think you can give points during summer.”
“No? Oh, well, I tried. I’m going to the market today. Are you coming?”
“Am I invited?”
“Of course you bloody are. Are you coming or not?”
“Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”
They walked to the market; it was the local muggle market, and Snape suggested it was too risky to apparate there and back. It was on the other side of the town, however, and the heat was sweltering.
“How are you not overheating right now?” Abbie asked as she wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. Snape was wearing muggle clothes, but he still managed to cover every inch of his skin with black fabric.
“It’s not that hot, Abigail.”
“It’s literally 25 degrees.”
“I barely feel it.”
“Yeah, well, you’re a freak of nature.”
“And you’re insolent and annoying.”
“You know, I always hoped that if I met my dad he’d be nice.”
“Sorry to disappoint. I can still wipe your memory if you like.”
“Too late. The whole school knows now. You’re stuck with me. Ha!”
Abbie grinned, and Snape rolled his eyes. “It seems we’re stuck with each other.”
“Could be worse.”
He looked at her, an eyebrow raised. “Could it?”
“Yeah. Better you than Lockhart.”
Snape snorted. “I’d hope your mother had better standards than Lockhart.”
“Dunno. She slept with you.”
“That’s enough of that. I regret inviting you along now.”
“Are you telling me to shut up?”
“At least until we get to the market, please. You’re going to bring my hangover back. Where did you get the idea for Devil’s Claw, by the way?”
“My brain.”
Snape smirked. “Good answer. I think you’ll make a great potioneer one day.”
“One day?” Abbie repeated with mock outrage. “I’m a great potioneer now.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Snape admonished, but he smirked. “You’ve got a lot to learn.”
“I’m not worried,” Abbie replied confidently.
“Oh? And why’s that?”
She looked up at him with a smile.
“I’ve got a great teacher.”
Snape, during the werewolf class: Were, as in man…
Abbie: stifling a giggle
Snape: Yes, Miss Payne? 🤨
Abbie: Wolf, as in wolf…