Texas was a jarring change. It was hot in the Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring and when it wasn't boiling hot, it was hailing or flooding. The summer heat could reach over 100 degrees Fahrenheit, wilting him during his first year in the states. And the humidity after the rains? How any of the neighbors kept a garden in this cruel weather was beyond him. Well, that wasn't really fair. The weather could be kind, clear and sunny with a cool breeze, the kind of weather that came with screaming neighbor children and lemonade and leaving your windows open just to feel the cool air in your stuffy house. The kind of breeze that he relished blowing through the window of his potions lab in the afternoon.
Sometimes, he wondered why he chose to come to Texas, where it was either lonely or crowded, too hot when it's not too cold, where muggle bias and bigotry danced in the strangest ways with liberal values and kindness and acceptance. It wasn't at all what he had expected, yet so similar. It was different from Britain, or at least from Cokeworth, especially since he'd only been out of the country once as a teenager. Thankfully, the wizarding community was welcoming and open, though he didn't interact much outside of business, they didn't ask questions about him or where he came from outside of friendly small talk and he appreciated it. He appreciated being left on his own, having his space respected for the first time in over ten years (and to think, all it took was for him to die).
Sarbesh lived in a muggle neighborhood in a city outside of Austin. His home wasn't big or fancy, though he knew he could afford it, he never needed anything like that. Big enough for his books, his potions lab, and a cat (though he never planned to get Ellie in the first place). It was comfortable and mostly quiet, except when Mrs. Johansson from across the street insisted on bringing him casseroles and sweet tea and lemonade and tupperwares of "extra" food as if she'd just accidentally made too much and not that she thought he didn't eat enough and didn’t trust him to be able to cook for himself as a 40 year old man. Her motherhenning had bothered him when he first moved in, but he didn't much mind it anymore (though he would never tell her that). It gave him a warm familiar feeling to be cared for, made him associate the woman with round, red cheeks and soft thick sweaters and mashed potatoes piled unreasonably high on a dinner plate.
Well, he didn't think about the past too often, it didn't do him any good. He was here now, and he was happy.
Ellie was sat beside him, curled around the arm he rested on his kitchen table as he read, it’s not like the arm was much use anyways, only putting down his book to reach for his coffee. The living room windows were wide open, letting the gentle wind whistle through the open room so he didn't need to run the AC (and to help him air out his lab), the few flies that came in not bothering him enough to do anything about them. He'd been sitting about all morning, hair up in the same lazy bun he'd slept in, having finished and sent out his latest potions orders the day before, allowing him a free weekend he didn't get very often. He’d had a cigarette before, not tobacco of course, he couldn’t stand the smell, the smell of burning herbs sticking to the air despite the wind.
Outside, he heard the Martin family's children running amuck in their yard or on the street, screaming as they played. It should have bothered him, it used to to no end, but he had been there for Draco's childhood and had dealt with being in charge of a house full of children for ten years, he was used to a bit of screaming by now.
The thing that really bothered him when he first moved in (besides cedar fever), though he knew it was illogical, was the dogs. The screaming children, his incessantly needy cat, his overly kind neighbors he could deal with. But family dogs in his area ran large and loud and being woken in the night by a dog yapping and scratching at a backdoor to be let in left him on edge for the rest of the night. It took 8 months, many sleepless nights festering on panicked barks and whimpers and a very awkward visit to his neighbors about keeping their mutt in at night for him to get over it. Not the best way to introduce yourself.
Well, he was never a dog person anyway, he thought rubbing his thumb against Ellie’s paw, too much stress. He had just placed his book onto the table and reached for his mug when his doorbell rang, a sound he was still growing accustomed to, nearly a year after moving in. It’s not like he got many visitors on Spinner’s End, much less ones who bothered with doorbells. He stood to get the door, wincing at the pain in his leg as he balanced himself, paying to mind to him still being in his sleep clothes, sure whoever was at the door had seen worse than a man in his pajamas. Ellie followed him with graceful steps to the door and he opened it fully expecting one of the Martin children asking after a ball that had fallen onto his yard or perhaps a young girl looking to sell cookies. He did not expect his godson.
"Uncle Sev," Draco smiled at him, only barely having to look up he's gotten so tall. His long hair was tied at the name of his neck like his father used to, bright blond in sharp contrast to his no doubt unreasonably expensive black outfit. “Sorry, Uncle Sar. You’re looking well, more casual than usual.”
"Come in already," He rolled his eyes, moved to let him inside. He wasn't anxious about Draco being seen outside his house, unlike his father the boy had some form of muggle dress sense. He didn't look out of place in any way except class. He mostly wanted him inside to get him out of the heat, even a mellow day in Texas was hot for someone accustomed to Malfoy Manor, especially when he insisted on wearing all black, unable to hide the thin sheen of sweat across his brow.
He closed the door behind the both of them, his godson making himself comfortable in his living room, sitting politely but comfortably on his couch with a soft smile. Sarbesh watched him from the corner of his eye as he made his way to the kitchen, holding back a grin when he saw Ellie hop into Draco's lap, curling up and getting orange fur all over his clothes. "Would you like a drink?"
“You really don’t have to, I’m sure you’d like to sit down,” Draco looked over him, doing his best not to linger on his left side, not to let his eyes trace the veins trailing up his neck and shoulder.
“Nerve damage be damned, you were just out in the sun in 4 layers of black, do you want a drink?” Sarbesh pointedly adjusted his sleep shirt, the wide neckline falling over his right side instead.
"Yes please," He relented, then looked up at him, quirking a brow, "Do you have any lemonade, Sar?"
He looked at him, frowning, "yes, I do." He went into the fridge to grab his pitcher, squashing down the urge to jinx his godson, "Should I tell Mrs. Johansson you've been asking after her?"
"Well, if you'll be speaking with her anyway..." He trailed off, not at all deterred by the glare he got for his efforts, "Have you finally convinced her you're an adult who knows how to cook or is she still bringing you all your meals?"
"Attempts have been made," He rolled his eyes, pouring two glasses and making his way to the living room, sitting across from Draco, holding up his glass to allow Ellie to jump to his lap. "But I don't see how that's any of your business."
"I'm just saying, you seem pretty content being doted on by a nice, pretty woman," He smiled into his cup, ducking when Sarbesh moved to pull out his wand from its place beside the cushion of his chair. When no jinx came, he straightened back up, pulling a face.
" Anyways. How have you been, Uncle?" Draco asked, polite as he was taught, taking a sip of his drink and eyeing his surroundings as if anything would have changed from the last time he came to visit.
"The same as last time you came,” He drank a bit of his own, barely noting how he’d gotten used to how cloyingly sweet the lemonade always was, despite not having much of a sweet tooth. “I’ve finished my work for the time being, so I was taking a day off. Doing some reading.”
“Well, it’s nice to know you’re not working yourself into a second grave,” Draco smiled into his glass, eyes darting to the side, “mother was asking after you, apparently you haven’t been answering her letters.”
“I live in the middle of a muggle suburb, I have a hard enough time sending out my potions by mail without the neighbors thinking I’m running an owlery,” To be honest, he just hadn’t gotten around to answering the letters still stacked on his nightstand, he’d had an influx of orders the past month that had been running him ragged, “When you get home, you can assure Narcissa I’m perfectly fine and if she had an urgent measure to tell me about, she can come visit herself.”
“I’ll be sure to let her know,” Draco huffed out a little laugh, quiet but warm, “and I’ll be sure to be here when she shows up on your doorstep.”
“There’s nothing your mother can do to me that she hasn’t already,” Sarbesh looked at him seriously, “I have gotten on Narcissa’s bad side more than you will ever know.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her you’re not afraid, Sev-” Draco stopped, his smile stiffening as he fiddled with his glass in his hands, a habit from childhood he never let go off, looking anywhere but ahead, “I- Uncle Sar. Uncle Sev. We miss you.”
“You write me constantly, Draco, and visit just as often,” He frowned, watching his godson fidget. He felt like he needed a smoke, though whether he actually did or if he just associated growing tension with cigarettes was yet to be seen. “What is this about?”
“It’s not just us,” He looked up at him, “Slughorn is head of Slytherin again and nobody can stand it. Harry’s on some personal mission to elevate everyone who died in the battle to sainthood, you especially. Sometimes he won’t shut up about you.”
“Since when are you on a first name basis with Mr. Potter?” Sarbesh raised a brow, deflecting like an adult who didn’t want to deal with his problems.
“We’ve been... talking. Reconnecting.” Draco says slowly, the red spreading across his face and ears giving the game away, “He asks about you sometimes, wishes he could have known you better before you died, the real you. I haven’t told him, not yet, but. I think at some point he deserves to know.”
He was quiet for a long moment, thinking. It was for the best in the end, that he left his old life, he was sure of it. He was already declared dead when he’d woken in Malfoy Manor and when he decided that Severus Snape was better off dead. He took his father’s old family name and the name of a great uncles on his mother’s side and Sarbesh Sneip was born. He couldn't go back now.
"Draco, it's been two years," He sighed, "as drab as it may seem, I have a life here."
"You have a life back in England too," Draco stood abruptly, startling Ellie off of his lap and into the other room, looming over him. "You have a life at Hogwarts and Spinner's End and the manor. You have a life with us."
"That life is over." He picked himself up off of his chair, wincing as he leaned on his left a bit too hard, and looked down at Draco, placing a blue-green veined hand on his shoulder, "I love you and you parents, you know that. I will never stop being your godfather and I will never not be a part of your life. But I can't do that as Severus Snape, not anymore."
"But," He reaches up to hold his wrist, face red with embarrassment, "We miss you. The real you."
He made to answer, to console his godson the best he could, when the doorbell rang once more, startling the both of them. He moved away, looking back for just a second when he went to open the door, coming face to face with Mrs. Johansson.
"Ah, Mr. Sneip!" She smiled up at him, holding a new, bright pink tupperware in her hands. She was short and stocky, pulled back hair falling in wild curls that somehow made her look the picture of motherly. He did his best to smile, still not entirely comfortable with her coming over for random talks.
"Please, mam, just Sarbesh is fine." He leaned lightly against the door frame, keeping his weight off his bad leg, hoping she wouldn't catch the movement. Of course she did.
"Oh, well, I don't want to bother you for too long, dear, I know you leg must be killing you, but I saw your nephew coming over and figured I'd drop off a treat for y'all since it's such a nice day!" She held out the tupperware for him to take, looking over his shoulder and grinning, "Hello, there!"
Draco came up beside him as he grabbed for the dish, "hello, Miss Johansson, it's nice to see you again."
"You too!" She put out her hand as if to shake his, but pulled Draco in for a hug as soon as their hands met, "It's been too long, darling, did you just fly in?"
"Yes, mam," He lied easily, "I had some business in Austin and figured I'd come make sure my uncle is eating properly." He undoubtedly winked, bringing a charming flush to Mrs. Johansson's face.
"Oh, you know I wouldn't do him wrong," She winked back as if he wasn't standing right in front of him. “If I’m not prying too much, how’ve you been?”
Draco pushed his way into the door frame, “Oh, the usual. I’m still in schooling for my medical certification and it’s taking up all my time.”
“Oh! I remember you telling me about that! You know, I have a cousin who-”
While they continued to make small talk while Sarbesh ducked away, moving to put the large tupperware container down on the table and make sure Ellie didn’t run out the front door. How Draco had gotten comfortable with muggles enough to get close to Mrs. Johansson was beyond him, the boy had always been a quick study when it came to pureblood ideals. Perhaps his presence in the boy's life had more effect on him than he thought.
"So, is there anyone new in your life, kiddo?" He heard the woman say from the door, laughing loudly at however Draco answered, "Oh, you can't hide that smile from me! Go on and tell me about 'em!"
"Ah, it's really nothing, mam," He sounded so nervous, nothing like the collected young lord he had been raised, "an old friend from school is all. We've just been... getting reacquainted."
"Oh, I’ve never seen you so flustered!" She no doubt pat him on the shoulder to calm him, “Don’t you worry, I won’t keep digging, you keep your secrets.”
Sarbesh tuned the two of them out, picking he and Dracos’ glasses up from the living room and bringing them to the kitchen. He peeked inside the tupperware to see just what Mrs. Johansson had brought, grabbing two forks from the silverware drawer before sitting down at the table.
Ellie jumped up into his lap, settling while he waited out his godson’s impulsive need to catch up with everyone he even remotely knew every time they spoke. He was glad Draco was better at making friends now than he was as a child, but he really could talk himself into an early grave. Maybe if he hadn’t been as insufferable (note: he does say this lovingly) as a child, he and Harry wouldn’t have to be ‘reconnecting’ at all. But that was none of his business, apparently.
He sat up straight as he heard the door close, Draco coming back in with a fond smile. “She’s nice,” He said, standing with his back to the door, watching him.
They were silent for a few awkward moments, neither of them really wanting to bring their previous conversation back up, the wind blowing through the room the only sound between them. Sarbesh had hoped that Draco would take the initiative to start, but he wasn't exactly surprised that the boy stayed silent, looking like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.
“Come sit with me,” He waved his godson over to the kitchen table, watching him try not to seem too awkward as he walked over and sat. He silently passed him a fork and popped open the tupperware, the smell of overly sweet fruit surrounding them both.
"What is that?" Draco looked between him and the food, confused and curious, twirling the fork in his hands like he didn’t want to be impolite by putting it down,"It looks like a Pygmy Puff giving birth."
“Colourful.” He snorted, taking a forkful into his mouth. He gave it a moment, eyes not moving from Draco the whole time. Swallowing he explained, “It’s called Ambrosia Salad.”
“If this is what muggles call a salad, I think I’ll have to be more careful about eating Mrs. Johanssons’ food,” He picked up a marshmallow from the tupperware, looking at it with a sneer, “Why is everything pink?”
“It’s made with maraschino cherries, the juice will stain anything it touches,” He takes another bite, wincing when he bites into a pecan, “And it’s a kind of fruit salad make with canned fruits, cherries, nuts, and some kind of cream to mix everything into. In this case, whipped cream.”
Draco watched him take a few more bites before taking some himself, frowning at the intense sweetness of it all, but still swallowing. He took another bite, somehow full of entirely different fruit of entirely different textures. Then he got a nut and almost spit, thinking he’d gotten a bug in his mouth or something. The whole thing was just so fun to watch. “Who’s idea was this? And are they in prison?”
“Are you saying you don’t want any more?” Sarbesh chuckled, moving to take the bowl away.
“That is not what I’m saying and I think you knew that,” he frowned, putting another fluff laden bite into his mouth. He grimaced even as he continued to eat, the very idea of the texture of a marshmallow throwing him off.
“Well, I’ll be sure to get the recipe for you,” He wiped a bit of whipped cream off his fork onto his finger, holding it out for Ellie to have a taste.
“As if mother would let this anywhere near the manor,” Draco moved his arm out of the way to let Ellie hop onto his lap, stretching herself out to try and reach his fork. “She’s been getting after the house elves for giving father too much dessert.”
“Perhaps you could share it with Mr. Potter than?” He smirked, placing a bite in his mouth while Draco sputtered.
“You really won't leave this alone, will you, Sev?” He looked at him, red in the face.
He really really wouldn’t. “What’s there to leave alone? You’re just reconnecting, I would think you’d do the same for any one of your old classmates.”
“I’m about to walk out that door, I swear.” Draco put his face in his hands, fork dangling dangerously close to his just barely wind ruffled hair. “You are the absolute worst, I don’t know why I asked you to come back.”
Sarbesh hummed and put a particularly cherry filled bite into his mouth, letting their banter lull. He loved his godson and his parents, they were the only connection he still had to his life in Britain and had been his family for decades at this point. It’s not like he didn’t want to go back at some point, at least for a visit. As many bad memories, or bad years, he had there, Spinner’s End was his home for almost forty years, Hogwarts for 30. It’s not them he had a problem with but the ministry was still rebuilding, Hogwarts was rebuilding, the public was hyper vigilant and wary of purebloods and those who may have sided with the dark lord, the whole of wizarding Britain drawing in on itself. There wasn’t a place for him there, not realistically.
he didn’t know how to exist as Severus Snape without the war, without conflict, it defined him. He had never lived without it, he grew up at war with his father, forced to hear his whiskey addled ranting about his experiences in Korea or as a child in Russia. At Hogwarts his father was replaced by the Marauders, their constant torment mixing with his cold housemates and the looming war to make sure he never had a moment's peace. And after? Well, his continued caffeine dependency said volumes.
“Draco,” He spoke, watching his fork twirl between his fingers, “I can’t go back to Britain. Not now, maybe not ever.” Draco looked like he wanted to argue, but he put a hand up to stop him. “I’ve made up my mind. But, if you and Mr.Potter continue your efforts to... reconnect, I wouldn’t argue if you wanted to bring him over for a visit. As your godfather, it's my job to make sure your new friends are up to my standards.”
Draco was quiet for half a moment, staring at him, mind buffering. “I- you-” His expression flickering from confused to embarrassed, softening at the realization of what he’d said. He straightened his face and squared his shoulders, unable to hide the sheen over his eyes, “You know I’m not one for excessive feelings, Sar. You need to shut up now.”
“Draco, I’ve seen you cry because you thought your stuffed animals loved Pansy more than you, we both know that’s a lie.” He scooted his chair closer to his godsons’, “If you’re going to cry, I would suggest you do it now-”
Draco launched himself at him, holding on to him so tight, Sarbesh thought he would break. Still, he hugged back, patting his back gently when he heard soft sniffles, saying nothing about it. They stayed like that for a long while, Ellie circling between them on the ground, notably upset over being knocked off her perch. Finally, when Draco’s sniffles stopped and he wiped his eyes on his sleeves as if he couldn’t see, they separated.
“If just the invitation to visit has you so worked up, I can’t wait to meet him,” He moved forward, smoothing Draco’s hair down the best he could, “I’m sure it’ll be a day to remember.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Draco sat back in his chair, leaning over slightly to pet Ellie as an apology for earlier, “No wonder mother keeps you so close, where else is she going to get her laughs?”
“Well she has you there,” Sarbesh chuckled as he pulled a face at him, shamelessly immature. He stood, grimacing as he put weight on his leg, and moved to the kitchen, “We’re going to finish that Ambrosia salad, I refuse to allow it to sit in my fridge, you know I won’t eat it once you leave. With that in mind, would you like lemonade, tea or coffee?”
“Coffee, Sar, and no sugar,” He looked pointedly to the tupperware, “I’m sure I'll be eating enough to make up for it.”
He hmm’d and put on a fresh pot for Draco, reaching into his fridge and grabbing a bottle of coffee he kept chilled for himself, almost craving the bitterness after half a bowl of nothing but sweet. He poured himself a mug and leaned against the counter to wait for the pot to brew. The silence between them now was comfortable, the wind, the padding of Ellie’s feet on the hardwood floors and the gurgling of the coffee maker the only sounds between them. Absently, Sarbesh noted that he couldn’t hear the children outside anymore, they must have been called in. He kind of wants a cigarette.
The coffee maker beeps and he pours Draco’s mug, handing it to him as he goes to sit down, the first sip of cold coffee washing away any other taste on his tongue. He could see Draco felt much the same, humming as he slowly sipped his still far too hot coffee. When they had both thoroughly cleansed their pallets, Sarbesh placed his mug down and leaned forward towards his godson, resting his elbows on the table.
“So, while we have time to sit and talk,” He smirked, resting his chin on his folded together hands, “What does Narcissa think of your catching up with Mr. Potter?”