Fic: height of fear
Title: Height of Fear
Word-count: 650
Summary: Quite possibly a lot of crack! Written in honour of Snape's birthday and due to circumstances beyond my control about 4 hours late at that. Don't take this too seriously, but do enjoy it.
Severus is afraid of heights. He hated flying on a broomstick, never took to rendezvousing on the astronomy tower, refused to keep ingredients on shelves that he’d have to climb a ladder to reach and had a habit of staring straight ahead when he passed windows.
As far as Severus knows there wasn’t some deep psychological trigger. His mother never dropped him as an infant, he didn’t fall out of a tree or off of a broom, as far as he can remember. He’s just afraid… irrationally inexplicably afraid
Which is the most obvious reason to why he is sitting on the roof.
“Severus?” His mother. She is visiting. It is his birthday after all. She’d been talking to him about his childhood when he climbed out the window and she is now looking at him like he’s lost his mind.
It is possible he has.
“Severus, what are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer. How can he be expected to? He needs to concentrate.
The wind is whistling uninhibited by his face. There is very little resistance at this height, save the lone chimney of the mill. Severus tries to focus on it until he feels small again, grounded somehow.
“Severus, you look a fool,” his mother chides and Severus knows he would sneer had he any control over his facial muscles. He can’t imagine he looks of anything. His face must be pooling at his feet.
“Now really, Severus.” She uses that tone. He ought to be too old for that tone by at least 25 years… 25 years at the very least, maybe more. He oughtn’t be sitting on the roof though either. He’s a bit old for that as well. What would the neighbors say (if he had any to speak of).
When she leaves he feels his fingers tighten on the shingle, though he hasn’t the slightest idea who sent the signal to his hand to do that. It wasn’t his brain. His brain is not in at the moment. All operators are temporarily not accessible. All requests for action and movement are to be submitted in writing.
“Nobody move this fool is a good 4 meters off the ground, which is a fair 2 meters out of our safety zone,” is the signal that seems to have been fed into the wire.
His mother is outside looking up at him now, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun. He can see this without moving his head, and therefore knows it to be true.
“I’m not afraid of heights,” he lies suddenly. He is careful not to move his whole head when his lips divulge the message. His movements are a study in conservation only the most necessary parts are given permission to move.
“I never said you were,” his mother shouts up and he can see her looking over shoulders under the pretense of nonchalance. She wonders if anyone will notice. If anyone will see.
This has been the story of their lives.
“Why don’t you come down now?” She asks after a moment. Her tone implies she doesn’t really mean the “Why don’t you “part. He almost thinks he has regained the ability to sneer.
“I don’t need to,” he claims.
“I’m quite enjoying it up here,” he lies.
“You look it,” she finally responds, and he almost thinks he can see the twinge of a smile gracing her thin lips; a thing most unheard of.
“Why don’t I pour the wine and join you?” She asks louder then any of her requests for him to cease and desist.
“That would be acceptable,” he agrees and feels his shoulders suddenly release.
For the first time in a long while Severus realises how pleased he is that his mother is his mother, for at this moment there is no one else in the world he would rather sit on a roof with then her.
Word-count: 650
Summary: Quite possibly a lot of crack! Written in honour of Snape's birthday and due to circumstances beyond my control about 4 hours late at that. Don't take this too seriously, but do enjoy it.
Severus is afraid of heights. He hated flying on a broomstick, never took to rendezvousing on the astronomy tower, refused to keep ingredients on shelves that he’d have to climb a ladder to reach and had a habit of staring straight ahead when he passed windows.
As far as Severus knows there wasn’t some deep psychological trigger. His mother never dropped him as an infant, he didn’t fall out of a tree or off of a broom, as far as he can remember. He’s just afraid… irrationally inexplicably afraid
Which is the most obvious reason to why he is sitting on the roof.
“Severus?” His mother. She is visiting. It is his birthday after all. She’d been talking to him about his childhood when he climbed out the window and she is now looking at him like he’s lost his mind.
It is possible he has.
“Severus, what are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer. How can he be expected to? He needs to concentrate.
The wind is whistling uninhibited by his face. There is very little resistance at this height, save the lone chimney of the mill. Severus tries to focus on it until he feels small again, grounded somehow.
“Severus, you look a fool,” his mother chides and Severus knows he would sneer had he any control over his facial muscles. He can’t imagine he looks of anything. His face must be pooling at his feet.
“Now really, Severus.” She uses that tone. He ought to be too old for that tone by at least 25 years… 25 years at the very least, maybe more. He oughtn’t be sitting on the roof though either. He’s a bit old for that as well. What would the neighbors say (if he had any to speak of).
When she leaves he feels his fingers tighten on the shingle, though he hasn’t the slightest idea who sent the signal to his hand to do that. It wasn’t his brain. His brain is not in at the moment. All operators are temporarily not accessible. All requests for action and movement are to be submitted in writing.
“Nobody move this fool is a good 4 meters off the ground, which is a fair 2 meters out of our safety zone,” is the signal that seems to have been fed into the wire.
His mother is outside looking up at him now, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun. He can see this without moving his head, and therefore knows it to be true.
“I’m not afraid of heights,” he lies suddenly. He is careful not to move his whole head when his lips divulge the message. His movements are a study in conservation only the most necessary parts are given permission to move.
“I never said you were,” his mother shouts up and he can see her looking over shoulders under the pretense of nonchalance. She wonders if anyone will notice. If anyone will see.
This has been the story of their lives.
“Why don’t you come down now?” She asks after a moment. Her tone implies she doesn’t really mean the “Why don’t you “part. He almost thinks he has regained the ability to sneer.
“I don’t need to,” he claims.
“I’m quite enjoying it up here,” he lies.
“You look it,” she finally responds, and he almost thinks he can see the twinge of a smile gracing her thin lips; a thing most unheard of.
“Why don’t I pour the wine and join you?” She asks louder then any of her requests for him to cease and desist.
“That would be acceptable,” he agrees and feels his shoulders suddenly release.
For the first time in a long while Severus realises how pleased he is that his mother is his mother, for at this moment there is no one else in the world he would rather sit on a roof with then her.