Work Text:
For once, the sunlight shining into his bedroom wasn’t an annoyance. He felt rested, and watched in silent fascination as dust particles swam in the sunlight. It was now the height of spring, and even though the temperature was still fresh - it was the British springtime, after all - the promise of longer days and lighter nights cheered him. After a few minutes dozing, he threw the covers back, scratched his bare chest and headed for a shower.
The best thing about being back at Spinner’s End was finally getting to use the new bathroom. He’d had it installed a few years earlier, but his visits to Cokeworth in recent years had been few and far between. Each time he got in the shower, he sighed with relief - the mixture of hot and cold water was perfect, and the jets of water hitting him from each angle were better than any masseur.
His shower complete, he cast a drying charm against his hair, and quickly dressed in clean Muggle attire - worn jeans, an even more worn t-shirt, and that green jumper Molly Weasley had knitted for him a few years prior.
Severus clattered down the stairs, and stooped at the front door, picking up the post, and then unceremoniously dumping it all on the kitchen table. Two Potions perodicals, Charms Monthly, and - he grinned broadly - a brand new edition of Borage’s opus magnum. Gilded edges, no less. Borage always had been a show off - but Severus was eagerly anticipating their meeting next week.
Severus leant over the sink and cracked open the kitchen window before settling at the table. He tapped a cigarette from the box, slid it between his lips, and then snapped his fingers to light it. He pushed his weight back on the chair, forcing it to balance on two legs, swung his own legs up onto the kitchen table and started to read.
A few hours later, he was in the same position - his cigarette resting on an ash tray, whilst his quill hastily scrawled across the page, ink splattering across his fingers and the table in equal measure.
His stomach was starting to protest, and a quick time charm revealed that he’d been in the same position for far longer than was reasonable or sensible. He stood, surprised that of late, his joints no longer seemed to ache the way they once had - that shower was certainly something.
He pulled his boots on, and strolled down the road, across the river and up into town. The locals smiled as he passed, and he nodded back, and he settled in a chair in the takeaway as he waited for his meal to be cooked. It was an indulgence, but after a day researching, the thought of slaving over a cooker held no appeal.
Severus’ walk back was faster, not wanting his meal to cool, and he cut through the park. He gave a short smile as he passed the swings, a warmth spreading through his chest - but he couldn’t quite recall why. He ran a hand across his temple. He felt a little hazy; not hungover, but rather more like the burr of contentment he felt after three or four glasses of his best firewhisky - as if there was something important he couldn’t quite recall.
He shook his head, and headed for home. He moved his work to one side of the kitchen table, set the radio to blare out the Top 40, and greedily tore into his chicken chow mein. Once finished, he dumped the cartons in the bin, poured a large measure of firewhisky and headed for the front room. He cast at the empty fireplace, causing a roaring fire, and tugged off his jumper. It was an indulgence to waste coal and wood in such a way, but he liked the way the fire smelled, the way the flames danced and how it warmed the room.
He picked up the Muggle paperback from next to his favourite chair. He could’ve put in a few more hours of research, but he’d had enough of Borage’s illogical theories for one day. He was truly looking forward to debating each and every point with Borage in person. He flicked open the paperback, and grinned as he recalled where he had read up to in his novel - last night, the detective had finally started to close in on the bad guy.
His book finished, Severus tidied the front room and kitchen, and carried a glass of water to bed with him. He stripped, banishing his dirty clothes to the wash basket on the landing, and cast a charm to clean his teeth. He sank onto the mattress, cocooned his body in the sheets, and smiled; it had been one of the most peaceful and pleasing days he could remember in a long time.
The next morning, he yawned, and rubbed his eyes. For once, the sunlight shining into his bedroom wasn’t an annoyance. He felt rested, and watched in silent fascination as dust particles swam in the sunlight. It was now the height of spring, and even though the temperature was still fresh - it was the British springtime, after all - the promise of longer days and lighter nights cheered him. After a few minutes dozing, he threw the covers back, scratched his bare chest and headed for a shower.
The best thing about being back at Spinner’s End was finally getting to use the new bathroom. He’d had it installed a few years earlier…