2,178They Didn't Know We Were Seeds
They stand together outside his and his mother's cottage with Ichabod. Ostensibly it is to give the flattie dog a chance to relieve himself before he and his mum turn in for the night. Less ostensibly it is to get some privacy from his mum. Severus knows she's still watching them from the kitchen window as she "tidies" it from dinner with Griffith.
So, he keeps this in mind and does his best to not act like there is something to fret about from his side. He's sure Mum is half-convinced there is something up not just with Priscilla and it's why she's come here tonight. Absently, he rubs the goose pimples on his arms. He should have put a robe on before coming outside. He turns his head to look at the witch with him and Ichabod.
Her expression is uncomfortable and her eyes watch something far off in the distance. It really isn't like Priscilla to reach out this way. She does not like to be in his (or Lily or Dirk's) vicinity more than she has to. Whatever has happened must truly be bothering her.
"Do your parents know you're here?" he asks as a way to start the conversation as well as gauge how deeply her discovery today is affecting her.
"No," she answers as she shifts her shape towards him. "I said goodnight and then used the floo in my grandmother's room," explains Priscilla. "She takes sleeping draught at night these days and it keeps her out until morning."
He frowns. "That's not—"
"It's fine," Priscilla snaps over the top of his scolding. "No one checks on me at night. My parents aren't paranoid." She shoots a glance toward the yellow-white glow of the kitchen window. "Not like your mother."
He pushes out his chin and hisses, "She's not paranoid!"
Priscilla scoffs. "Really?" she jeers at Severus. "She's watching from the window."
Severus sniffs. "Yes, well. Is it her fault? Tonight we had dinner with Griffith. I think she's rather convinced your call was a part of a plot on my part to get out of it."
The witch bites her bottom lip. "Is that Griffith bloke really that bad?" she asks, eyes searching. "I know squibs can be… bitter… but Avery seems to like his uncle."
He sighs. Honestly, Griffith isn't bad. "He's not bitter," Severus admits with some reluctance. "Sheltered is more like it. The Averys have cossetted him his whole life I reckon."
She lets go of her lip from between her teeth. "Ah," murmurs Priscilla. "He is very young compared to his brothers," she muses. "From my conversation with Avery, it seems he grew up rather spoiled by not just his parents but his brothers too."
"Great," grumbles Severus.
Priscilla squirms in place. "Speaking of the Averys…"
"What?" he demands, shifting to get the best look at her face as she tries to hide from his gaze. "What did you find out?"
She ducks her head and admits, "It's more I saw something that concerns me."
He scowls, growing frustrated with the witch. He understands taking care with one's words but there is no reason for Priscilla's meandering. Not when it's just the two of them. "Spit it out, would you?" he demands. "I tire of this pussyfooting."
Priscilla makes a face at him before she says, "Avery's uncle is giving gifts to Duffield and paying special attention to her interests."
Severus clutches his face. "Bloody Hell," he swears. The teenager is still up to her games. He should have told his grandfather to find a witch for Duffield to work for.
"Avery insists his uncle's attention is innocent," continues Priscilla and, slowly, Severus lowers his hands. The younger witch's face is pinched as she explains, "Apparently, Travis Avery and his wife had a daughter who died as an infant. I don't know if I entirely believe him but—"
"—It would be worse if it's true," broke in Severus as horror cools him faster than the night's frigid breeze. "Duffield is a vulnerable girl who is desperately searching for purpose and a way out of the cesspit that's her family. Who knows what Avery's uncle could convince her to do."
Priscilla nods along as he speaks. "Yes, I agree," she says when he finishes. Priscilla searches his face, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth once more. "What are we to do?" she questions in a whisper when Severus is not fast enough to reply. "The last thing we need is for her to become involved with the Death-Eaters. They'll take her, you know. The Scabiors and Duffields aren't known for being pristine blood-wise but they've got a long history in our world."
Severus falls back a step and exhales heavily. "I need to think," he confesses after a minute of scrambling for even a thread to an idea. "This situation is going to need delicate handling."
The witch stares at him. Severus does not care for the expression on her countenance. She seems as if she has something to say and it makes him nervous. He tears his eyes away and focuses on Ichabod. The dog is still blissfully rooting around in the long grasses of the field before his and Mum's cottage. He's not yet noticed the turmoil in the air surrounding Severus and Priscilla.
"I… might have an idea," mumbles Priscilla. Immediately, Severus's attention returns to the witch. Her lips are parted, tentative and he raises his brows to urge her on. Her eyes skitter away from him and if it were day instead of the night he is certain he'd see her cheeks are a dusky pink. "The start of one, anyhow."
He crosses his arms. "Please, do tell," he demands. Severus has doubts about it even being a start of a decent idea but it's better than what he has at the moment.
"She doesn't have mates," states Priscilla.
He knits his brows. "Duffield? No," he says. "In the past, she's seen other witches as competition. I doubt there are any witches in our house who wouldn't squint at any friendly overtures from her nowadays."
The witch presses a palm flat against her chest. "I'm not competition," she remarks.
He scowls. Severus can see where this is going and is feeling very reluctant about it. "Priscilla," he warns.
She huffs. "I could befriend her," she argues. "It would allow us to keep a closer eye on her relationship with Travis Avery, perhaps even weaken it given some time."
Severus looks her up and down. Priscilla surprises him by holding herself steady instead of bristling. "Do you truly think you can manage that?" demands Severus. If they go with her idea there isn't room for her to mess up. The last thing they need is to alienate Duffield from them. Then she will be lost to them forever.
"I believe so, yes," answers Priscilla with a strong, firm tone.
He opens his mouth but before he can say more his mum calls, "Severus!" They both twist around in the direction of the cottage and see his mum hanging half out of the backdoor. "It's late, I would like to go to bed. It's time for Priscilla to go home!" she shouts at them.
"We will discuss this again soon," he tells Priscilla.
"Of course," she agrees with a curt dip of her chin. "Shall I come by tomorrow?" she inquires with a small tilt of her head.
"I will be at Sage's," he replies.
Priscilla smirks. "That's even better. My uncle likes his brother. My parents won't even question me wanting to visit him."
He rolls his eyes. It's not lost on him why her uncle likes Boyd. "Lovely," he sneers.
She laughs once and Severus commands Ichabod to come to him. When the dog is at his hip, the three of them return to the cottage. Once inside, Priscilla walks straight for the fireplace and grabs a bit of Floo powder from the box on its mantle. "See you tomorrow," she says.
Severus gives a small nod. "Goodnight."
The witch calls out her destination and throws the powder into the weak flames of the fireplace before she disappears into it. When he is alone with his mum, he looks her in the eyes. There is a curious gleam in them as she asks, "You didn't resolve her issue during your talk?"
"We started to," he answers. "By tomorrow it should be handled."
Mum hums. "I see," she says. Then, with a forceful finger, points toward the next room. "Bed. Now."
Severus glowers. "I'll be of age next year."
"Yes, yes," Mum replies as she pushes at his shoulders. "Until then you must listen to me." When they reach the staircase, she kisses his cheek. "Goodnight."
He returns the affection. "Night, Mum," he says before taking the steps up to his room. If sleep will be in his near future is questionable, however. Severus prays he'll be able to get at least a couple of hours in before he is to see Priscilla again. It should lessen the migraine he will surely have by tomorrow evening.
-o-O-o-
Severus, Sage, and Priscilla are sitting around an old, claw-footed coffee table laden with tea, biscuits, and chicken sandwiches in the smaller of the Montague's two parlors. Vesta calls this one the entertainment room since it houses the harp no one in the Montague family has been able to play since Iain Montague's Great Aunt Elma died some twenty years before.
He and Sage are perfectly at ease on the room's sofa together, discussing a novel Sage is reading and that Severus recalls having read the first time he was a teenager. Priscilla, on the other hand, is tucked up on the chaise longue, expression scrunched and displeased.
When Sage pauses in talking to take a sip of his tea, Priscilla strikes. "Can't you find something else to do?" she demands.
Sage, to Severus's pride, raises his eyebrows at her and drawls, "I don't have to. Severus said I can stay."
The witch turns her attention to Severus; her face is absolutely appalled. "This doesn't involve him!"
He stares back steadily for a beat and then takes a bite from the sandwich he has sitting on his lap. "Sage is insightful," he says when a touch of red comes to Priscilla's cheeks. "I would like his opinion."
Priscilla scowls. "He's a child," she spits.
"Yes," agrees Severus as Sage covers his mouth to hide laughter. He knows his brother is enjoying this. For him, a true teenager, it is high entertainment to watch Priscilla dissolve into a hissing and spitting being of vexation. Severus finds it fun too. It appeals to his unkinder nature to make one of his supposed "betters" a mess. It does not help matters Priscilla is easy to unravel.
As the witch fumes, incapable of forming words in the midst of her rage, Severus says, "Duffield is also a child for that matter. Sage's perspective is invaluable."
His brother grins. He is happy to be told he can be of use. More often than not, Severus wants Sage as far away from this business as possible. However, since it is Sage's home they are using to have this conversation and he too is a teenager, Severus has to acknowledge his brother has a place in this discussion. Even if it is only to offer a more or less naive opinion on the matter at hand.
Priscilla firms her mouth and lifts her chin. "We don't need it," she proclaims. "I have decided."
He snorts. "Have you?"
Priscilla nods. "It's a good plan," she says. "The girl needs a mate."
Severus leans back and crosses his ankles and arms. "I don't disagree," he replies. "Merlin knows she needs more people looking out for her." He pauses and stares Priscilla down. "The question is are you the best choice?"
"She's not going to take to Lily," asserts Priscilla. Beneath her breath, the witch grumbles, "She's too pretty."
Sage frowns. It is apparent he is uncomfortable with the implication of her words. "You're not ugly, Priscilla," he murmurs.
Priscilla rolls her eyes at the teenager. "I'm not putting myself down," she sneers. "I know what I am. I'm fine. Nothing striking, though. Duffield's less likely to feel threatened by me."
As Sage blinks, Severus hums in thought. "There's still Dirk and Sage," he remarks at last. Severus isn't wholly sure he wants Sage mixed up with the witch but there is a chance her time with Avery's uncle already will make her hostile toward a muggle-born like Dirk now. "Not to mention I could just spend more time with her. I helped Duffield get the job she has now and I look out for Scabior. She trusts me a little."
Priscilla practically jumps from the chaise longue. "No. No boys!" she snaps as she walks over to settle herself on the edge of the coffee table, causing the plates of biscuits and sandwiches to clink together. "It's too risky," she says as she picks up one of the biscuits. Staring at where it rests between her fingers, she remarks, "What happens if she develops feelings for one of you? You'll hurt her when you reject her."
Severus covers his eyes as the witch devours the biscuit and starts on another. It is a good point even if he hates it. Duffield is starved for love and is likely to see kindness from a boy through a romantic lens.
"Fine," he relents as he lets his hand fall away from his face. "You will be the one to befriend her."
From the corners of his eyes, Severus sees Sage scoot closer. There is a furrow between the teenager's brows. "How?" he demands.
"What?" says Priscilla, pursing her crumb-covered lips at Severus's brother.
Sage makes a noise of irritation and leans closer to the witch. "How are you going to become her friend? You're two years below her and a Hufflepuff."
Priscilla looks at Severus. "Is she good at any class in particular?"
"I'm unsure," he answers with a touch of reluctance. He doesn't like showing Priscilla the gaps in his knowledge. It makes her simultaneously smug and suspicious of him. "I would reckon she's competent at runes," he mutters after a short silence. Severus rubs his chin and remarks, "All the help she's given Travis Avery should have sharpened her understanding and skill in the subject."
Priscilla nods and brushes the crumbs from her face. "I'll sign up for Ancient Runes," she decides with apparent ease. "I can ask for her help. Tell her you recommended I ask for her advice."
"She might not want to help you," argues Sage. The teenager shakes his head and tucks his chin into his chest as he falls back against the sofa. "No, Posey won't. She doesn't help her cousins and they're family."
Priscilla sniffs at his doubts. "Severus got Duffield a damn job she can help me in return."
Sage frowns at her. "Hm," he grumbles with clear disbelief.
Severus sighs and says to his brother, "I'll pressure her if need be."
"That's only going to make her cross with you," warns Sage.
There's truth to Sage's words. It will. Even so, Severus isn't terribly worried. "Duffield isn't a grudgeful sort," he reminds his brother. For all of her faults, Duffield is happy to forgive many slights. Especially when the one raising her ire can open doors for her. "Really, it's a small ask all things considered."
"I suppose," replies the teenager with hesitation.
Severus points it out. "You don't seem convinced Sage," he says.
"No, I am," reassure the boy. He tugs on the hem of his sleeve. "I… I don't know. Now that I'm being made to think about Posey it feels cruel. She doesn't have friends and no one truly likes her." Eyes alight with anxiety, he says, "I understand Avery's uncle is not a good man and will get her into trouble or worse but it sounds as if he does care about her."
Priscilla snaps her attention away from the teenager to him. "Severus, Scabior is a better person for having you, isn't he?" she demands.
He nods. "I suppose," he says while reflecting on his first go around at Hogwarts. Many had talked about the boy in a negative way then; calling him a nuisance more often than not. This time there is still criticism (it's inevitable for a boy such as Scabior in a house like Slytherin) but a number offer Scabior grudging respect since he has proved himself a competent dueler. "He gets into far fewer unsanctioned duels and scuffles than he did in our first life," Severus concludes with a snort.
Sage gestures at Severus like he's made a damning argument. "Posey could be like him," he asserts. "She won't if you stop talking to her the moment it's safe to," he points out.
Severus rolls this idea over in his mind. Sage isn't wrong. Scabior likely wouldn't be half the boy he is now if Severus didn't keep a constant eye on him. "He might have a point, Priscilla," he remarks as he rubs his chin.
The witch huffs and turns her face away. "I don't care," she grumbles. "She's not why I'm doing this."
He sighs. "Come now," chides Severus. "Duffield isn't a complete dunderhead. You might find you actually like her."
Priscilla looks out at him from the corners of her eyes; lips pulled into a light frown. "If that's true so be it," she replies after a beat of hesitation. "I'm not committing my life to someone I might hate. I did that once already and it was enough, thank you."
Severus can't say that isn't fair. Priscilla didn't come back in time to be miserable. Wryly, he remarks to his brother, "That's the best you're going to get, Sage."
"I… That's good enough," he relents. He bites his lip and turns large eyes on Severus. "Should I try to be her mate too? I could tell her I'm," he pauses and glances at Priscilla, blushing. "Erh," he mumbles as he lowers his gaze to his lap, "that should keep her from trying to pursue me, no?"
Severus stares at his brother; surprised. Sage has yet again impressed him. How does he do it? Be so kind? It isn't his family he's learned this from. His mother and brother's kindness rarely extends past family.
As much as he would like to encourage his brother, Severus can't. Not when it could put him at risk. "Boyd was right to advise you to be careful, Sage," he tells him. "And not just with blokes."
Priscilla's mouth drops open. "Are you gay?" she demands, leaning forward and trying to catch the teenager's avoidant gaze.
Sage turns an unmistakable pink. "Erhm."
"Priscilla," Severus growls at her.
She huffs and leans back. "I don't care," she snaps. She crosses her arms and sighs. "Well, that's not entirely true," she confesses. "If you ever need to marry, I'll do it," she tells Sage.
The boy looks at her at last; he blinks in shock at Priscilla as Severus rolls his eyes and mutters beneath his breath, "Unbelievable."
The witch waves at him to be silent and continues on, "It could be mutually beneficial. The Montagues still have a decent fortune, yes? My family is losing money these days. If my parents and uncle and aunt aren't careful we'll have to start selling heirlooms this century. Marrying somebody like you could keep my parents comfortable until their deaths."
Severus scoffs, unimpressed by Priscilla's offer. Sage, however, is looking almost contemplative. "I'll keep that in mind," he says politely.
"You should," insists Priscilla with a smirk. "I won't even ask for children."
"Enough, Priscilla," Severus cuts in. Glaring, he says, "Marriage is a worry for a far-off day. Let's keep our eyes on the immediate issues."
The witch's smirk grows into a grin. "Speaking of," she replies in a tone full of false levity. "How goes our immediate concerns? The Horcruxes?"
Severus grinds his teeth together.
A new chapter to start off October! I hope everyone likes Severus and Priscilla's plan for handling Posey.
Thanks you for reading!