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Severus opened his eyes and looked around his flat. His flat. And what a flat! A large, furnished flat in a fashionable—for wizards—part of London, with large windows and a balcony overlooking Diagon Alley. Best of all, it was silent due to charms on the building. He was still astonished that he could afford it. Lucius had had a word with the landlord and gotten him a rent reduction. Simply, “I would take it as a personal favor if you would help me find close accommodations for my protege,” and it was done.
No more Cokesworth. No more Spinner’s End. No more, “Not in my house, lad!” He could do anything he wanted.
He smelled coffee. He sat up and stretched, and tossed the bedding back. Even the sheets were fancy, so fine they almost felt silky. He stood and padded, barefoot, across the glossy wooden floors and into the kitchen. The coffee was ready and waiting for him thanks to a spell he’d cast the night before, but he was going to either have to either make breakfast or go out. He had the money from his new job, so he decided to be lazy.
He drank the coffee and dressed slowly, in the nice clothes he’d bought the day before—black, tailored—cast a spell to make the bed, and headed out. There was a place with outdoor tables overlooking the street, and the weather was nice.
His parents would be arriving at noon. He’d considered not inviting his father, and then decided that he wanted both his parents to see his success. He was only seventeen and already making more money than his father ever had. The best part was that after they saw his flat and went to lunch, they’d go away.
He took a seat at a table and gestured the waiter over.
***
“Ooh, how handsome you’re looking!” his Mum said, and kissed him on the cheek. She was wearing her best pale blue dress, the one with the lace on the sleeves.
He smiled at her. “Ta, Mum.”
His father was looking around the room with an awkward, envious expression. “Sev,” he muttered. He was dressed in his ordinary clothes, but at least they were clean.
“Father.” He supposed he should murmur some polite inanity like nice to see you, but it was probably better to avoid outright lies.
“Bit posh, don’t you think?” His father had an expression that might be trying to be a sneer, but didn’t quite succeed. Part of the problem was the stiff way he was holding himself, like he was afraid to touch anything. Toby Snape usually took up room. Physical, mental, psychological room, sprawled in his favorite chair with his legs spread demanding time and attention and flying into a rage when he didn’t get it. His father looked small here, under the tall ceilings.
Discomfited, Severus merely shrugged. “Lunch?”
***
The restaurant he took them to—Cheval Noir—was in Diagon Alley right across the street from the entrance to Nocturne Alley and attracted a mixed crowd of purebloods and upscale dark wizards. It was hard to get a reservation, but Evan’s father owned the place. Eventually, he wouldn’t have to rely on his friends to get him nice flats and restaurant reservations. People would give them to him in his own right. But in the mean time….
He glanced back at his parents. His mother’s eyes were big, and his father was awkwardly shuffling his feet. Delicious, savory meat and bread smells spilled out into the street.
“You know I’d be perfectly happy with fish and chips, lad,” his father said.
“Don’t be silly,” Severus said. “It’s not easy to get a reservation.” He marched up the marble steps and got the pretty blonde hostess’ attention. “Reservation for Snape, party of three.”
He could detect the exact moment when she spotted his reservation. Her attitude went immediately from “that’s not a wizard name” to obsequious fawning.
“Sir,” she said. “We’ve been asked to give you the nicest table and a bottle of elf-made wine on the house.” She blinked at his parents—the obvious Muggle and the witch, and damn it, he’d told her to wear something to go out in but he should have bought her something nicer—but she recovered quickly. He considered telling the waiter they didn’t need the wine—the last thing he wanted was for his father to make a drunken spectacle of himself—but decided that he would instead cast an anti-intoxication charm.
She led them through plush red carpet and dark wood, past charmed instruments playing a string quartet by themselves, to a table next to the window, overlooking Diagon Alley. They sat down, and his father said, gruffly, “Looks like you’re doing all right for yourself, then.”
For his father, that was practically gushing praise. “I do my best,” he replied, which was apparently the right answer.
The waiter rushed over, looking anxious and eager to please. “Mr. Snape, sir,” he said. “We’re delighted and honored that you’ve chosen to bring your parents to dine with us. The younger Mr. Rosier speaks very highly of you.” He handed out menus. “May I suggest the dragon’s nest soup to start?”
Severus shrugged. “Sounds good. Mother?”
Mum leaned over and said, in a sort of stage whisper, “There are no prices on this menu!”
“You don’t need prices, because you’re not paying for it,” he said. “Why don’t you get some soup?”
She nodded, blushing.
“Father?”
“I’m not a fancy man and don’t need fancy soup,” his father said. “Perhaps a whiskey for starters instead.”
Severus somehow managed to avoid rolling his eyes, then turned back to the waiter. “Two dragon’s nest soups and a firewhiskey to start.”
“Yes, sir,” the waiter said, bowing. “Of course, sir.” He left.
Severus pulled out his wand and casually cast the anti-intoxication charm on his father.
“Bloody hell!” his father said. “What the fuck did you just do?”
“Drink all you want, you won’t get drunk,” Severus said.
His father scowled at him, then frowned down at the menu. “I hope there’s steak.”
***
On the way out of the restaurant, on the steps, his mother tugged at his elbow and pulled him aside. “Sev, what are you doing?”
“I thought I was taking you and father to lunch.” He tried to pull his arm away, but was hampered by the unopened bottle of wine—his parents hadn’t wanted any, but the restaurant had insisted he take it.
She didn’t let go. “This is a restaurant for purebloods and dark wizards, and you’re not a pureblood.”
He just raised his eyebrows at her and said nothing. On the street, some children chased each other, laughing, and people walked by doing their shopping. His father stood at the foot of the stairs, off to one side, looking uncomfortable and bored.
“Should I worry?”
“Of course not,” he said, dismissive. “You know Potions attracts a… mixed crowd. I’m making business contacts, is all.”
“They were fawning all over you,” she said.
“That’s because they know I’m going to be important,” he said.
She smiled and patted him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, love. I know you were just trying to impress us. You certainly succeeded in impressing me.”
He didn't think she believed him, but he didn't care. He suspected she didn't care, either, at least not about whether he was doing dark magic. He'd seen her library, after all.
He wondered if he made enough money yet for her to move in with him, if she had to. He'd spent more than he should have for lunch, but he was making a point, and he still had most of the proceeds from selling that bottle of Felix Felices. Besides, Lucius said this was just the beginning, and once he joined up everyone who was anyone would be buying his potions.
Maybe his father thinking he was successful enough to support Mum would be enough. He smiled at her, and she kissed him on the cheek. They walked down the stairs to where his father was waiting.
“Can we take the train instead of doing your apper-thing?” his father asked his mother. “I don’t want to throw up all that expensive food.”
Oh, thank Salazar, his father was going away now.
“If you like,” his mother answered. Severus was pretty sure that was code for she’d rather apparate but wouldn’t if he insisted.
“Good,” his father grunted. “Sev.” He waved, and the two of them walked away down the street, towards The Leaky Cauldron.
Severus looked down the street. He could see his balcony, with the little table and chairs. Perhaps tonight, if the weather was nice, he should have Lucius and Narcissa over to drink this bottle of wine.
The future looked bright, and things would only get better from here.