A/N This little attempt is really a series of character sketches put into
story form - I guess everyone who writes Snapefics has their own conception
of the various aspects of his life and character we don't see in canon -
that's what fanfic is about, right? ;-) I've seen a lot of 'Snape's family'
fics ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous and hopefully this one
falls somewhere in between :-)
Warning: multiple OCs, most of which are deeply disturbing and/or peculiar but none of which are Mary Sues/Larry Stus/in any way important.
Disclaimer: Severus isn't mine, I just enjoy messing with his head. Locations in the story and other characters you recognise aren't mind either. Snape's fearsome relatives, and the delightfully vile Mont- Streppings, however, come from my own twisted imagination.
Finally - the names I use in this story for the OCs come mostly from Roman history - cf. 'I Claudius' by Robert Graves ;-) And the title is pinched from the classic 'Two Ronnies' sketch, 'Village of the Smiths'. And now, eventually, on to the fic!
The laughter was getting on his nerves.
It made him grimace like a rabid dog.
It made him sit bolt upright in his seat, back muscles so tense they were in danger of spasming.
It made him twitch.
This was all perfectly normal behaviour for Snape, however - thus no one in the Great Hall noticed, and they all went right on laughing, chattering, and generally being children. Damn and blast them.
Poking glumly at a piece of smoked bacon on his plate, Snape barely noticed the overly familiar rush of wings as the morning post arrived; the potions master did not receive owls often, and when he did they tended to be from the Malfoys: disturbing invitations to wine-tasting and/or muggle- torturing events at the Manor from Lucius, gushing notes about Draco's progress from Narcissa. The latter, if possible, were the most unnerving - they were frequently accompanied by photographs of Draco's mother wearing skimpy flowery robes and blowing kisses.
Not that Snape minded receiving pictures of beautiful, infatuated women through the post - it was merely unfortunate that the only beautiful woman he knew who did not find him repulsive was Narcissa, who had once been his fiancee, in the dark days when Grandmother Livia, the Snape matriarch, and hideous Aunty Mildred, head of the nauseating Mont-Strepping family, had been obsessed with joining the two families. At the tender age of sixteen - after many years of forced friendship with the younger Mont-Streppings, who were a foul bunch of thickheads possessing, nevertheless, a certain instinct for self-preservation - Snape had been told by Livia of his betrothal, since birth, to Narcissa Mont-Stepping, she of the pink frills and teddy bear pyjamas, she of the irritatingly girlish giggle and habit of skipping instead of walking.
Thank heaven for Lucius and his bad-boy magnetism! Three days after Snape introduced Narcissa to his handsome best friend, she had called off the engagement; three weeks later she married Malfoy, changing her personality somewhat in the process from airy-fairy to cold fish, for the sake of her husband's sanity. Worryingly, she continued, even to this day, to send Snape perfumed letters assuring him that she was still his 'darling Cissy' though anyone looking at her proud face would not have believed such girlishness possible from such an obvious ice-queen. If only!
"I believe your owl is trying to attract your attention, Severus." A mild voice said in his ear. Snape jumped as he noticed for the first time the impatient bird, perched on his chair, eating his toast.
"What have you brought me, Marius?" There was dread in the potions master's voice - please, not another billet-doux from 'Cissy'! The owl dropped a letter indifferently into Snape's lap and continued on the toast. Snape's long white fingers trembled slightly as he opened the envelope - thankfully it was not perfumed!
To his surprise - though not relief - the letter he withdrew carried his own family crest and was covered in the spidery writing of none other than Grandmother Livia herself. Snape gulped unobtrusively. Looking up he noticed that several staff members were peering at him with interest. Dumbledore was openly reading the letter over Snape's shoulder. It ran like this - Livia had, as usual, written on behalf of the entire family:
Grandson,
We hope this letter finds you well, not that we have any way of knowing, since you appear to have chosen not to communicate with your relatives. The last time we saw you, Severus, was at your grandfather's funeral, and we have not forgotten that your last visit *before* poor Augustus' death was very little prior to that event, and that you visited without warning bringing a gift of a rather unusual wine. You may remember that my delicate stomach most unfortunately prevented me from partaking.
This aside, however, we are writing to inform you that your Uncle Drusus, of whom we have strongly disapproved for several decades, has been reinitiated into the family favour. Drusus has been offered and has accepted the position of Headmaster at Durmstrang school - the school you would have attended, Severus, had not your mother (rest her soul) been so insistent about Hogwarts. We remind you as an aside that your current position as teacher at Hogwarts is a matter of great shame to your family. We did not raise you to play about with potions, Severus. Had we wanted a chemist for a grandson we would have married a muggle!
You will be pleased to know that there will be plenty of opportunity to discuss this and other issues further, since we are planning a family Gathering the weekend after next to celebrate your Uncle's new position. *You are expected to attend this event*. No excuse about long distances are acceptable in this instance - the Gathering will be held at Hogsmeade. The Family will retire in the evenings to Hogwarts - you will thus obtain permission from your employer, by any means necessary, and reply immediately to your loving,
Grandmother.
With a groan, Snape dropped the letter onto the table.
"I should have known." He muttered. "Only grandmama would think it too vulgar to send her bird directly to the recipient of a letter. Only grandmama would have the gall to summon my own owl to fetch a letter for its master."
The other teachers were looking curiously at Snape, and even more curiously at Dumbledore, who had gone rather pale. McGonagall could hardly believe her ears. The man who had defeated Grindlewald, the wizard whom the Dark Lord feared above all others, the headmaster of the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world, was afraid of an elderly lady?
"You have never met Livia, have you, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked, as though reading her thoughts. McGonagall shook her head.
"I shall be honoured to introduce her to you." Sneered Snape. "You might get on quite well. She's something of an old cat herself."
McGonagall's eyes narrowed.
"Probably more of an old *bat* from what I gather about your family history, Severus."
Snape glowered, but did not respond, a remarkable thing in itself, since he usually insisted on having the last word in any argument, sweeping from the room before his opponent could find a reply.
"Hogwarts will be honoured to play host to your family Gathering, Severus." Dumbledore was saying unhappily to the Potions master. Snape, looking equally miserable, replied,
"I'm sure grandmama will be enternally grateful." With that, he rose to his feet, muttered his excuses, and stormed from the hall with his usual violence. McGonagall turned thoughtfully to the headmaster.
"This Livia must be truly fearsome, if she frightens our resident terror so much."
Dumbledore did not reply. He was staring at Snape's letter, lying on the table where the potions master had left it.
"Albus?"
"I beg your pardon, Minerva. I was merely contemplating the possibility of taking a short sabbatical…"
"Really, I'm surprised at you! How awful can this woman be?"
"How high is the moon?" Came the distracted reply.
"Well, I refuse to believe it. She is probably just a bitter old woman too used to being put on a pedestal by the rest of her family. I for one will not be cow-towing to her!"
Dumbledore turned to the deputy headmistress, a strange, distant smile playing about his lips.
"In that case, Minerva, perhaps you would like to play hostess at this gathering? I'm sure Severus would welcome your assistance." The gauntlet was thrown down. Pride and a healthy sense of self-efficacy prevented any possibility of refusing the challenge.
"Very well." McGonagall said primly. "This should prove most interesting."
"Interesting," sighed Dumbledore, "is not the word I would have chosen…"
Warning: multiple OCs, most of which are deeply disturbing and/or peculiar but none of which are Mary Sues/Larry Stus/in any way important.
Disclaimer: Severus isn't mine, I just enjoy messing with his head. Locations in the story and other characters you recognise aren't mind either. Snape's fearsome relatives, and the delightfully vile Mont- Streppings, however, come from my own twisted imagination.
Finally - the names I use in this story for the OCs come mostly from Roman history - cf. 'I Claudius' by Robert Graves ;-) And the title is pinched from the classic 'Two Ronnies' sketch, 'Village of the Smiths'. And now, eventually, on to the fic!
The laughter was getting on his nerves.
It made him grimace like a rabid dog.
It made him sit bolt upright in his seat, back muscles so tense they were in danger of spasming.
It made him twitch.
This was all perfectly normal behaviour for Snape, however - thus no one in the Great Hall noticed, and they all went right on laughing, chattering, and generally being children. Damn and blast them.
Poking glumly at a piece of smoked bacon on his plate, Snape barely noticed the overly familiar rush of wings as the morning post arrived; the potions master did not receive owls often, and when he did they tended to be from the Malfoys: disturbing invitations to wine-tasting and/or muggle- torturing events at the Manor from Lucius, gushing notes about Draco's progress from Narcissa. The latter, if possible, were the most unnerving - they were frequently accompanied by photographs of Draco's mother wearing skimpy flowery robes and blowing kisses.
Not that Snape minded receiving pictures of beautiful, infatuated women through the post - it was merely unfortunate that the only beautiful woman he knew who did not find him repulsive was Narcissa, who had once been his fiancee, in the dark days when Grandmother Livia, the Snape matriarch, and hideous Aunty Mildred, head of the nauseating Mont-Strepping family, had been obsessed with joining the two families. At the tender age of sixteen - after many years of forced friendship with the younger Mont-Streppings, who were a foul bunch of thickheads possessing, nevertheless, a certain instinct for self-preservation - Snape had been told by Livia of his betrothal, since birth, to Narcissa Mont-Stepping, she of the pink frills and teddy bear pyjamas, she of the irritatingly girlish giggle and habit of skipping instead of walking.
Thank heaven for Lucius and his bad-boy magnetism! Three days after Snape introduced Narcissa to his handsome best friend, she had called off the engagement; three weeks later she married Malfoy, changing her personality somewhat in the process from airy-fairy to cold fish, for the sake of her husband's sanity. Worryingly, she continued, even to this day, to send Snape perfumed letters assuring him that she was still his 'darling Cissy' though anyone looking at her proud face would not have believed such girlishness possible from such an obvious ice-queen. If only!
"I believe your owl is trying to attract your attention, Severus." A mild voice said in his ear. Snape jumped as he noticed for the first time the impatient bird, perched on his chair, eating his toast.
"What have you brought me, Marius?" There was dread in the potions master's voice - please, not another billet-doux from 'Cissy'! The owl dropped a letter indifferently into Snape's lap and continued on the toast. Snape's long white fingers trembled slightly as he opened the envelope - thankfully it was not perfumed!
To his surprise - though not relief - the letter he withdrew carried his own family crest and was covered in the spidery writing of none other than Grandmother Livia herself. Snape gulped unobtrusively. Looking up he noticed that several staff members were peering at him with interest. Dumbledore was openly reading the letter over Snape's shoulder. It ran like this - Livia had, as usual, written on behalf of the entire family:
Grandson,
We hope this letter finds you well, not that we have any way of knowing, since you appear to have chosen not to communicate with your relatives. The last time we saw you, Severus, was at your grandfather's funeral, and we have not forgotten that your last visit *before* poor Augustus' death was very little prior to that event, and that you visited without warning bringing a gift of a rather unusual wine. You may remember that my delicate stomach most unfortunately prevented me from partaking.
This aside, however, we are writing to inform you that your Uncle Drusus, of whom we have strongly disapproved for several decades, has been reinitiated into the family favour. Drusus has been offered and has accepted the position of Headmaster at Durmstrang school - the school you would have attended, Severus, had not your mother (rest her soul) been so insistent about Hogwarts. We remind you as an aside that your current position as teacher at Hogwarts is a matter of great shame to your family. We did not raise you to play about with potions, Severus. Had we wanted a chemist for a grandson we would have married a muggle!
You will be pleased to know that there will be plenty of opportunity to discuss this and other issues further, since we are planning a family Gathering the weekend after next to celebrate your Uncle's new position. *You are expected to attend this event*. No excuse about long distances are acceptable in this instance - the Gathering will be held at Hogsmeade. The Family will retire in the evenings to Hogwarts - you will thus obtain permission from your employer, by any means necessary, and reply immediately to your loving,
Grandmother.
With a groan, Snape dropped the letter onto the table.
"I should have known." He muttered. "Only grandmama would think it too vulgar to send her bird directly to the recipient of a letter. Only grandmama would have the gall to summon my own owl to fetch a letter for its master."
The other teachers were looking curiously at Snape, and even more curiously at Dumbledore, who had gone rather pale. McGonagall could hardly believe her ears. The man who had defeated Grindlewald, the wizard whom the Dark Lord feared above all others, the headmaster of the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world, was afraid of an elderly lady?
"You have never met Livia, have you, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked, as though reading her thoughts. McGonagall shook her head.
"I shall be honoured to introduce her to you." Sneered Snape. "You might get on quite well. She's something of an old cat herself."
McGonagall's eyes narrowed.
"Probably more of an old *bat* from what I gather about your family history, Severus."
Snape glowered, but did not respond, a remarkable thing in itself, since he usually insisted on having the last word in any argument, sweeping from the room before his opponent could find a reply.
"Hogwarts will be honoured to play host to your family Gathering, Severus." Dumbledore was saying unhappily to the Potions master. Snape, looking equally miserable, replied,
"I'm sure grandmama will be enternally grateful." With that, he rose to his feet, muttered his excuses, and stormed from the hall with his usual violence. McGonagall turned thoughtfully to the headmaster.
"This Livia must be truly fearsome, if she frightens our resident terror so much."
Dumbledore did not reply. He was staring at Snape's letter, lying on the table where the potions master had left it.
"Albus?"
"I beg your pardon, Minerva. I was merely contemplating the possibility of taking a short sabbatical…"
"Really, I'm surprised at you! How awful can this woman be?"
"How high is the moon?" Came the distracted reply.
"Well, I refuse to believe it. She is probably just a bitter old woman too used to being put on a pedestal by the rest of her family. I for one will not be cow-towing to her!"
Dumbledore turned to the deputy headmistress, a strange, distant smile playing about his lips.
"In that case, Minerva, perhaps you would like to play hostess at this gathering? I'm sure Severus would welcome your assistance." The gauntlet was thrown down. Pride and a healthy sense of self-efficacy prevented any possibility of refusing the challenge.
"Very well." McGonagall said primly. "This should prove most interesting."
"Interesting," sighed Dumbledore, "is not the word I would have chosen…"