you raise me up || harry potter

chapter 1: watching the warm poison rats

»»-----　song:　-----««

flightless bird, american mouth

★ by iron and wine ★

❝ now i'm a fat house cat
cursing my sore blunt tongue

watching the warm poison rats
curl through the wide white fence cracks ❞

♢ ♢ ♢

When the doorbell rang around noon time at the only inhabited house on Spinner's End, the tea was brewing, the small house had been tidied, and the worn armchairs expectantly awaited guests.

Spinner's End had been a dingy, desolate area of Cokesworth from as far back as when Snape was a child. A sad, industrial but stunted neighborhood, it exuded soot and hardship and was hardly the sort of place Narcissa would usually be found at—she was a socialite, fond of afternoon tea in fancy parlors, not sparse living rooms filled with dog-eared books. Nevertheless, she greeted Snape at the door with a soft smile lifting her lips.

Beside her was a boy. Buttery blond and pale as bone china, his chin was lifted in a manner of learned aristocracy. But it was his boyishly plump cheeks and a shyness behind his gray eyes that gave away youth, and Snape's perpetual frown diminished somewhat.

"Narcissa," he nodded, and pointing his hooked nose down, "Draco."

The boy flushed as though wanting to hide behind his mother's robes. Being eleven for over a month already, Draco decided he was far too old for such displays and settled for a downward gaze instead.

Snape led the pair inside, closing the door behind them with a soft click. It was not lost on him how out of place they looked, all immaculate attire and refined subtleties next to greasy hair and robes stained with potions that would never come out, no matter how many Scourgifies. Snape was a lonely man, always an oddity among the elegant and elite, and this would never change. He didn't want it to.

When Snape motioned to the armchairs, Narcissa inclined her head in thanks and sat down gracefully without hesitation. She motioned for Draco to do the same. He sat down with more of a "whumph" as the armchair nearly swallowed his thin frame, but he pushed himself forward in an effort to sit upright like a proper young man.

Narcissa looked toward Snape, who in turn gave her a slight nod.

"Draco," Snape began, leaning forward, "You are doing well, I presume?"

Draco nodded, the smooth motion unsettlingly regal on such a young boy. No doubt he was emulating Lucius.

"And you are excited to start your schooling at Hogwarts, yes?" Snape continued. Draco bobbed his head more enthusiastically this time.

"Very good," said Snape. "The reason why your mother brought you here today is because you will be starting school in September. I will be your Potions Professor, as you know, and your parents and myself agree that, as one of your teachers, I shall be making myself a part of your academic life, in addition to any personal needs or concerns should circumstances merit."

"And," he proceeded after watching Draco process his words, "As an acquaintance of your parents, I look forward to seeing you grow as a young man into an adult of high prestige." Narcissa smiled beside her son.

A minute of small talk wore itself weary and Snape stood up. He leaned forward to murmur to Narcissa, "You need not worry. I will take care of him at Hogwarts."

Narcissa appeared slightly taken aback—Snape was not known for his bluntness. But she nodded. "I know, Severus."

Snape motioned to Draco for him to follow, leading the way to a room they both knew well.

As the young boy eagerly followed the other into a small lab attempting to match the long strides, Narcissa exhaled a small breath.

In that small, sparse living room, she found her doubts melting away with the sound of Draco's chatter and Snape's low but mellow responses, the muted clinking of vials and soft splashing of enthralling potions.

Perhaps her fears were, for once, unfounded.