Establishments
It was itchy.
Tom stood in a white room, surrounded by nothing. Hearing nothing. Feeling nothing. Except, he was feeling something. Tom scratched his arm.
It was itchy.
He glanced around. Where…where's the tall man? He wondered. Where are…where are they? Where's mum? Tom rubbed at his neck.
It was itchy.
They must be here, he thought, eyes darting around, scanning the vast surroundings— or the lack thereof. Mum’s got to be at the Master’s house…she has to be. He scratched his other arm. I've got to—Ive got to see her—
Tom scratched his neck. Why was it still there? He scratched his back. It wasn't going. He scratched his leg, his chest, his hands.
It was there.
What was?
It wouldn't leave.
He scratched, and scratched. It hurt. It hurt. There was something, something under his skin. It was there, moving, coursing through his veins, and it wouldn't go.
He scratched harder, and harder. He rubbed at his limbs, the feeling only getting worse by the second. He tugged and pulled at his skin.
Get it out. Get it out. Get. It. Out.
He felt something on his hands. Something wet…sticky… Trembling, Tom slowly lifted his hands. He froze, eyes widening.
This isn't mine, he thought, the red liquid slowly trickling down his hands. This…this is… Tom tensed, heart quickening. No, no, no He stared down at his red-stained hands, drawing shaky breaths. I…I didn't… He started to rub at his hands, trying to get it off.
He desperately shook his hands, scraped at them, trying to just get rid of it. Yet it kept pooling in his palms. It wouldn't go. It wouldn’t come off.
But he didn't do it.
I didn't do it— I didn't— he scrubbed harder. She isn't gone— I- I just have to see— He scrubbed even harder. It just kept getting worse.
It wouldn’t come off.
He tried and tried, pulling and scraping at his own skin, but it wouldn’t leave. They kept accumulating, the flow never ending. Not when it should be there. But it wasn’t his.
Why? He knew why.
He should’ve done something.
He should’ve helped.
He should’ve stopped it.
He should’ve been the one who died.
Tom scratched harder, tugged harder. It should've never been her. Never. Never her, always him— he deserved it.
The blood kept pooling, never stopping. They spilled over his hands, disappearing into the void. Tom kept shaking them, scratching at them, just trying to stop it.
There was a faint tremor in the ground. He didn't notice. The pain was blinding, and he could feel it, just feel it.
It was itchy, so itchy.
The ground shook again. It was flowing down his arms, trickling down his legs. He could feel his heart pumping…hear his heart beating.
The ground shook even harder.
There was a faint sound, somewhere in the distance. Tom barely noticed. The blood kept flowing, it kept coming. Where would it end? Just stop? Could it just stop? Why couldn't it stop?
Tom took strained breaths, barely able to see past the blinding pain, and the…the…
“...ddle…”
He kept scratching.
“..Ri…le…”
The ground shook again. He kept scratching.
“..dle…Tom…TOM!”
There was one final large tremor and the ground splintered, causing Tom to fall—
________
—and he jolted awake, sitting upright and coming face to face with a rather serious looking man.
________
[Early-December 1933]
Tom sat up in a bed, body trembling and chest heaving. He glanced up, wide eyes meeting with the tall man’s, who was crouched down next to him, both arms grabbing firmly at his shoulders, expression unreadable.
His gaze darted around, trying to get a hold of his bearings. What just…is it gone?
He looked down at his hands. No blood. His gaze slowly shifted down his arm, and he raised a shaky hand to squeeze it. Nothing.
It was gone. Just like that.
Tom stared down at himself, not knowing what to feel. He breathed hard, letting out shaky breaths, trying to slow his heart down. But it was too hard. It had felt so…real, as if he really had—
A soft sigh next to him startled him. Tom raised his head to see the tall man rummaging through his inner coat pocket, other hand still gripped onto his shoulder, albeit more relaxed.
Then, before he knew it, the tall man had pushed something slightly cold into his hands. Tom blinked, slightly dazed, and glanced down.
It was a small vile, barely the length of a finger, and was filled to the brim with a strange blue liquid that appeared to be slightly…glowing?
He stared blankly at the vile, unsure of how to proceed.
“I recommend that you drink the liquid, Riddle,” the tall man said, still crouched down next to him and watching him intently. Tom looked up blankly.
“Drink…?”
“Yes, drink. If you are wondering what liquid I am referring to, then I suggest you look more closely at what is in your hands.”
Tom tightened his fingers around the vile. Why did he have to drink it? Did he have to? His breaths quickened. He…he didn't want to—
“Riddle, do not panic.” Tom’s gaze darted to the tall man. He was staring at Tom seriously, dark eyes boring into his. It should have been unnerving, but it was strangely grounding. “I am not forcing you to drink it. However, I believe it will be to your benefit if you do.”
Tom glanced down once more. He swallowed. His throat was dry, and if the tall man said that it was safe, it had to be true, right? Tom bit his lip.
Hesitantly, he brought the vile up. His eyes darted to the tall man, who was just observing him in silence. He gulped.
Arms trembling, he unplugged the cork and slowly lifted the vile up to his dry lips. He paused, before screwing his eyes shut and downing the contents at one go.
Tom blinked. It was…sweet. And that was all it was for a second, as nothing happened. Then, it hit him all at once— or more so vanished all at once.
All of a sudden he didn’t feel quite so anxious any longer. It was as if a wave of calm had simply washed over him and erased any trace of panic in his mind. All he could feel was…silence. That was the only way to describe it, really.
He lifted his head, mouth slightly agape, the empty vile held loosely in his hands.
The tall man nodded, looking satisfied. “Excellent,” was all that he said, before rising from his position next to the bed, at the same time letting go of Tom’s shoulder.
Tom almost instinctively grabbed the tall man’s arm, but stopped himself before he could do so, instead just following the tall man with his gaze as the man strode over to the desk across the room.
“I-uh…” He tried, voice coming out slightly croaky. The tall man, with his back turned to Tom, hummed.
“Hm, voice still hoarse? Perhaps the slippery elm wasn’t quite enough… I will have to inform Ashurn later,” The tall man said, the second half mostly to himself.
“Uhm, well,” Tom tried once more, mouth moving but not quite finding the words.
“Yes, Riddle?”
“Uh, I, well, what—what was that, if I can ask, sir?” He asked, fiddling absentmindedly with the vile and its cork.
“‘may’ ask, Riddle, and the ‘liquid’ is what you are referring to, I presume,” The tall man clarified, glancing at him and raising an eyebrow. Tom nodded shyly, gaze averted. The tall man turned back to the desk, evidently busying himself once more. “Simple: It is a potion.”
There was a pause. Tom’s head snapped back to stare at the tall man, wide eyed.
“A…potion?”
“Indeed, a potion— a blend of ingredients that, when brewed correctly, produces the desired effect. In this case, calm.”
“…Brewed?”
The tall man sighed, briefly turning towards him to raise an elegant eyebrow. “I do know what has come out of my own mouth, Riddle. I do not need to hear my words repeated back to me.”
Tom felt his face heating up, and he ducked his head momentarily. He should really stop acting so silly in front of the tall man, even if it wasn’t something that he could help.
And it was at that moment that he chose to remember what had happened the previous morning. Or was it earlier that day? It didn’t really matter, with the far more important thing to focus on.
He blushed even harder, just wanting to get back into the small safe space of his hatch and hide in there forever.
Now that he was thinking clearly (he still wasn’t sure how), it was extremely embarrassing to remember how he had behaved, painfully so. The crying, the uncontrolled shouting and his terribly panicked actions—— and another thought hit him.
How by Emmanuel did the tall man not get mad at him?
If it were the master, he would have been ‘disciplined’ to his, uh, ‘wits end’ as he heard the tall man say once. But the tall man didn’t do that. He even comforted Tom, which was admittedly really confusing to him.
Tom peered at the tall man through his black curtain of hair.
The tall man was now looking through the shelf and seemed to be trying to pack some big stuff into something, but it was a bit hard to see past the long, black coat the tall man was wearing.
And for a few moments, it was just the clinking of glasses and faint rustling of papers that filled the room. Tom fiddled with his fingers, the blush on his face still rather prominent.
“I, uh, well, er…” Tom fumbled over his words, suddenly getting the urge to just say something. The tall man didn’t respond. “Uh, the, uhm—“
“Riddle, the calming draught does not impair your mental capabilities— if anything it enhances them. So if you have something to say, please do so,” the tall man said, tone slightly exasperated.
“Ah— uhm, so yesterday, I was not very, uh, good, sir—- I am very sorry for that…and t-thank you for-for doing the things, sir, I shouldn’t have been like that, sir.” Tom finished hastily.
There was a pause.
Oh, there you go again, Tom, making a fool of yourself again. Now the tall man’s probably really annoyed, and I’m gonna, I’m gonna get… Tom clenched his fists.
But the tall man’s voice cut through his thoughts, tone as controlled as ever. “I only did what was expected in such a situation, Riddle. Your thanks, while appreciated, is unnecessary.”
Again, only the shuffling of papers filled the silence. But it wasn’t long before the sounds stopped a second time.
“Riddle.”
Tom looked up. There was another pause, before the man went on.
“…I do extend my condolences once more.”
Tom felt his muscles tense ever so slightly, but the barrage of emotions he thought he would feel never came. His body and mind were both as calm as could ever be. Tom blinked, sitting still on the bed, not knowing if this was natural or not.
He just stared at the tall man’s back, trying to find the words that still managed to catch themselves in his throat.
“So…she's—she's really…”
The tall man turned his head towards Tom, eyeing him carefully from the corner of his eyes, before nodding. Tom blinked again.
“Oh…” Was all he could manage in response.
Gazing blankly ahead, Tom was unsure of how to react. He wasn’t sure if he even could react. Where he should have felt some sense of panic or shock, was just an empty void.
It wasn’t that he didn’t feel anything, but it was just a cold…sadness and utter guilt that filled his heart, and no more.
His gaze dropped to his hands, which were no longer trembling, but Tom thought he could see the slightest hint of red on them. He blinked, and it was gone.
“And…and what about Ma— uh, my father?” He found himself asking, shocked at the question that came out of his own mouth.
Why did I ask that? Tom thought incredulously to himself. He’s the one who…but I…Tom furrowed his eyebrows.
The tall man seemed to be thinking along the same lines, for he had frozen mid-way of taking a book down the shelf upon hearing the question. But he stayed like that for less than a second, before carrying on and gently setting the book down on the desk.
“What about him?” The man asked lightly.
“Uh, I—well, he was there too, sir, so I was just…wondering…?”
There were a few moments of silence, before the tall man turned slightly to face Tom, eyes contemplative.
“He is…no longer of this world,” the tall man eventually replied, tone careful but devoid of emotion.
Tom’s head snapped up upon hearing the man’s words. Wha…? ‘No longer of this world’? Does that—it means that— The tall man inclined his head in response, as if he had read Tom’s mind.
His mouth dropped slightly open, mind racing. The master was really— was he really…? What—why—how? It felt like such a strange concept to him. Never, not once in his life did he think that the master would have…Tom gulped. Just, how?
The man was silently observing him, dark eyes never once straying. Tom didn't know what to do. He owed so much to the master…he had gotten so much from him, and he couldn’t have done much else without the master, could he? He didn’t need to like it to know that he needed it.
He glanced down at his hands again, staring at the rough surface littered with scars from over his life. He should be feeling sad, angry— guilty, even, just feeling something like that after hearing such news.
Yet he wasn’t unhappy.
And he knew that it was so far from that.
His head felt like it was pounding, thoughts swimming in his mind. It wasn’t even in a panic either, but somewhere between thinking clearly and having too many thoughts clouding his mind to feel any sense of being grounded.
Did feeling like this make him a bad person? Was it wrong? Was it his— He sucked in a breath, and let out a shaky exhale. It was his fault, wasn’t it…he shouldn’t be—
“You needn't feel bad for the man, Riddle,” a calm voice cut through his thoughts. Tom raised his head, eyes locking for a split second with the tall man’s, before he quickly averted his gaze. He wrung his hands together, shoulders hunched.
“But I…”
“No ‘but’s, Riddle. End of conversation.” The tall man said firmly, leaving no room for argument. Tom froze, watching as the tall man turned away to carry on with whatever he was doing. They both lapsed into silence once more.
What…I shouldn’t… Tom’s mind scape was a mess, not being able to stop thinking about, well, everything. Why wasn’t he panicking? Well, of course he wasn’t panicking— he understood these sorts of stressful situations all too well.
But why wasn’t he feeling upset about the master becoming…’no longer of this world’ either? Would the master still be the master if he were gone? Tom frowned. But if he was gone, he couldn’t be the master. So who…would?
“Riddle—”
There was a glimpse of movement of something in front of him, and his head instantly shot up, alert, but relaxed a moment later when he noticed that it was just the tall man moving to stand in front of the door.
“—I will need to leave for a short while,” the man continued slowly, hands clasped behind his back. “Will you be alright on your own?”
Tom blinked. What? The tall man is leaving? His body tensed slightly, a flurry of thoughts running through his mind. He didn’t want the tall man to leave. Not him too—he couldn’t be alone, not again— he didn’t want—
He almost jumped out of the bed then and there, but he stopped short. He couldn’t burden the tall man anymore. He had helped Tom so much in just the past two days, and even in the past months—how ungrateful would he be to ask him to stay just for Tom’s sake?
He lowered his head dejectedly.
“…Yes master,” the words slipped out before he even registered what he had said. The man froze, dark eyes swiveling and fixing a hard stare on him.
A beat.
“Excuse me?”
Tom flinched, still not having realised what happened. Then, after a few good moments, his eyes widened considerably.
Did I just call the tall man ‘master’? He thought, not believing what he had just done. Why did he do that? The tall man wasn’t the master, he was just…the tall man! Tom furrowed his eyebrows. The tall man was just ‘the tall man’…? Would he be the master now, since the old master was…gone?
Tom frowned, unsure of what he was getting at. But it kind of made sense— If the old master was gone, then he needed to have a new master to live. And the tall man had helped him out a lot, which Tom never really understood why, even after asking the tall man before. So, if the tall man had helped him, and he needed a master, then the tall man would be the master, right?
His stomach clenched. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t really like that idea. The tall man was very nice, and Tom wanted to trust him, but the tall man being the master wasn’t…
He raised his head, eyes locking with the tall man’s intense stare for the smallest moment before he quickly diverted his gaze. Tom subconsciously hunched his shoulders further in an attempt to make himself seem smaller.
It had to be this way, he supposed. He didn’t really like it with the old master, but he needed him to survive. So if the tall man had to be one, then he didn’t really have a choice, did he?
“…master…?” He finally replied hesitantly, coming out as more of a whisper than anything.
There was a sharp inhale, followed by another long pause. Tom could practically feel the tall man’s gaze boring into him, never leaving him for one second.
“Riddle.” Tom flinched slightly at the hard tone, hands clasped together tightly. “Riddle,” the tall man repeated, tone slightly less harsh. “Do not ever call me that again.”
Hearing those words, Tom instantly looked up, confused.
“But the master—“
“No.” The tall man said the word with such firmness that Tom flinched once more. He instinctively bowed his head, arms tensing as if to prepare themselves. There was a soft sigh, and he heard the light clacking of the man’s boots approaching him, before they stopped in front of him.
“Look at me, Riddle.” The tall man said, voice low. Tom bit his lip, before forcing himself to look up and lock eyes with the tall man who had crouched down beside him. Tom’s hands were still tightly gripping one another.
“Listen, I do not know what possessed you to call me by such a title, but do not, and I repeat, do not call me by that again. Understood?”
Tom opened his mouth to answer, but the tall man raised a finger, and he faltered, mouth hesitantly closing.
”I am no ‘master’ by any means, Riddle. Again, do not address me as such at any point going forward.”
Tom didn’t know what to think. The tall man didn’t want to be the master? Was that…good? He looked down at his hands, which were stinging from how hard he had been clenching them, but they had relaxed on their own at some point.
He— he wasn’t unhappy about it. The uncomfortable feeling in his gut faded, and he could feel his mind becoming slightly clearer. He was…he didn’t know what he was feeling. He needed the master, but if the tall man was like the master but wasn’t the master, would that work?
The corners of his mouth curved slightly, unbeknownst to him.
________
“Then what should I…” Riddle asked softly, still looking down at hands.
“Whatever you wish to address me by. Even just ‘sir’ would suffice.” Severus replied, relieved that it had finally gotten through to the child. Riddle nodded, his long hair falling and covering his face. Severus inclined his head.
“Splendid.” And with that, he rose from his crouching position and dusted off his cloak.
Well then, Riddle is most certainly not going to be fine on his own, Severus thought, sighing.
He had intended to travel over to the apothecary briefly just to inform Ashurn that he needed a second day off— He should have known that Riddle would pass out for yet another entire day— but considering what had just occurred he didn’t think that it was an option to leave Riddle alone, even if just for a few minutes.
Severus told the child that he didn’t know the reason for calling him as such, but he did have a…hunch.
“Well, sir, you see, sir, it was Ma…Father that t-told me, sir”
Severus scowled, replaying in his mind the line that Riddle had said the day they had first met. He supposed that was what Riddle intended to call his father numerous times over. Just how far had Riddle’s poor excuse of a father drilled such ridiculous notions into the boy’s mind?
He narrowed his eyes at the child, whose head was still bowed. That feeling of slight guilt at Riddle’s earlier internal conflict after hearing about Riddle Senior’s death vanished in an instant.
Severus pursed his lips. At the very least it was no longer a physical problem, but to fully let Riddle recover mentally would be an entirely different story. The human mind is easily moulded after all— even the most skilled occlumens’ mind can bend and fall under the right conditions.
Regardless, what am I to do now? Severus crossed his arms, staring out the inn room’s window onto the streets of Diagon Alley.
He had to send Ashurn a message without letting Riddle out of his sight for a moment. Obviously he couldn’t use an owl or any delivery animal of sorts. He didn’t own one for instance, and his transfiguration of inanimate objects into live animals were…not always successful.
Using a patronus would have been an option, but he hadn’t truly been able to fully form one ever since his school days. He doubted that an incomplete patronus would manage the task, not that he had ever tried. Severus just thought it was rather pointless to attempt so, rationally speaking.
Back to the point, he had no means of contacting Ashurn on his own at the present, not without leaving Riddle on his own. And he couldn’t just skip work— that would almost certainly get him fired.
Should I just bring Riddle along with me? The idea popped into his mind. Severus blinked. That was certainly an option, but was Riddle up for it?
He glanced down at the child, who was now gazing up at him through his hair with those obscenely wide eyes. He seems to have forgotten about…those events for now, Severus thought, studying the child. That was a positive sign.
He supposed that Riddle needed to be exposed to the wizarding world, regardless of whether he was truly a wizard or not— though admittedly he was still inclined to believe the former. Bringing the child along would achieve that. Plus, were he to truly take care of Riddle for a few weeks, he had to let the child get used to the wizarding world eventually.
”Riddle,” Severus started, and Riddle jumped, head fully snapping up to look at Severus. “Would you like to accompany me on my errand?”
The child blinked, and there was a pause before Riddle’s face contorted into a look of surprise and he stared at Severus blankly. Severus exhaled, closing his eyes.
“A verbal answer, if you please, Riddle.”
He opened his eyes to see Riddle ducking his head once more, face faintly coloured red.
”Y-yes sir!” The child squeaked.(Yes, squeaked, because how else would he describe such a small, high pitched answer?) Severus raised an eyebrow, but nodded in acknowledgement.
“Very well. Come along then.” Severus said briskly, stepping away from the bed to give Riddle room to get down.
Riddle gingerly removed the blanket covering him and slowly brought his feet over the bed edge. But the previous days must have taken a toll on his body as well, for the moment Riddle stood, he had immediately stumbled, and would have fallen were it not for Severus quickly reaching out to steady him by the shoulders.
”Careful, Riddle. Falling will hardly do either of us any good.”
Severus gave Riddle a quick glance over, eyebrows furrowing. He must’ve been too preoccupied previously, but now that he was properly looking, He was reminded that Riddle’s appearance was beyond simply disheveled. Tears, stains and clearly oversized clothing— and not to mention the scars that littered the child’s body. There was that small tug in his chest, but he deliberately chose to ignore it.
Severus clicked his tongue. “Well, this will not do.”
Riddle glanced up, confused. “Sir?”
Severus gently released the child’s shoulders, and thankfully it seemed that Riddle was able to support himself at least for a little while. He drew his wand, and narrowed his eyes in concentration.
”Stay still,” he muttered, raising his wand and pointing it at Riddle. He waved his wand a few times, and transfigured Riddle’s rather unsightly clothing into a plain green shirt along with a pair of simple black pants.
The boy’s gaze dropped down and his eyes widened, mouth agape. “Wha—”
Severus paid Riddle no mind, bringing his hand up and pulling off the ribbon that he used to tie his hair, letting it fall loose. Severus took the still confused Riddle by the shoulders and slowly turned him around, before gathering Riddle’s long hair and deftly tying it into a simple ponytail.
He spun Riddle back around and gave the child a second look over. Any visible scars were covered by the long sleeves and pants, and having that unruly hair bundled up was a…slight improvement. This should be enough, he thought, at least for the short trip that they were having.
“This shall have to do.” Severus said, tucking his wand back into his coat pocket. He turned to the door and glanced back at Riddle. “Shall we proceed then, Riddle?”
Riddle was blinking blankly at him, then down at himself, and back at him. Severus raised an eyebrow, which seemed to effectively snap the child out of his reverie.
“Ah, yes sir!”
Severus nodded, striding over to the door and pulling it open, and Riddle hurried over, though his legs still appeared weak, Severus noted. Regardless, he stepped out of the room, and waited patiently for Riddle to follow behind.
He closed the door as soon as Riddle fully exited, and wasted no time in heading down the hall, though he made sure to walk slightly slower just in case Riddle couldn’t keep up.
As they neared the stairs, the faint chatter of the pub grew louder, and Severus could feel something grabbing his cloak. He shifted his gaze down, and could just make out the small silhouette of Riddle hesitantly clutching the hem of his cloak. His mouth twitched, but he said nothing and simply continued down the hall and descended the stairs.
There weren’t as many patrons as there usually were, but it was certainly enough for Riddle to feel uncomfortable enough and pull at his cloak even more. The boy was going to tear his cloak before they’ve even reached the apothecary at this rate.
Severus made his way to the back door, quickly inclining his head to the bartender, and stepping out into the falling snow. He glanced down briefly just to make sure that Riddle was still by his side, before stepping up to the brick wall and drawing his wand to make the required taps on the bricks. Then, as smooth as ever, the wall parted to reveal the bustling street of Diagon Alley.
Glancing down once more, he smirked slightly in amusement at the sight of Riddle’s awed expression as his eyes darted left and right, taking in the festive sight, his earlier plight seeming to have left his mind completely.
Severus let the child stand there for a few seconds longer, just to get used to the atmosphere, before placing a hand on Riddle’s back and gently pushing him forward.
”Come then, Riddle. We have places to be. No dithering.”
Riddle jumped slightly at the touch, and walked forward in a daze, with Severus following close behind. The hand that was clutching his cloak loosened ever so slightly as they wove their way through the streaming crowd. Severus made sure to keep Riddle within his field of vision and a hand on the child’s shoulder, just to be safe.
They squeezed past the ever present crowd outside the Quidditch store, past the oddly long queue lining the Trinket store and wove their way through the numerous pedestrians before finally reaching the apothecary.
Severus sighed. He never really liked the Christmas season— goodness knows how many people are out and about buying gifts that would ultimately be thrown away. What a waste of time.
“Well then. Are you alright Riddle?”
He briefly looked down, observing as the child nodded absentmindedly, attention clearly still enraptured by the bright christmas decorations and magical items whizzing around. He smirked imperceptibly, but tightened his grip on Riddle’s shoulder and steered him into the shop. The bell above the front door tinkering as he pushed it open.
“Welcome to— hey! Snape, you’re late!”
Ashurn got up from his crouching position by one of the shelves and stalked over to him, a half empty box of Bicorn Horn left forgotten.
“By Slytherin, one day off and you’re already slacking off!”
“Yes, well—“
”Even let your hair down now I see.” Ashurn sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “What parenthood does to people, tsk tsk.”
The customers in the store turned to look at the commotion that Ashurn was making, and Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes. He exhaled sharply.
“I am late, and I admit that it is my error,” Severus said in a low voice. “However, please lower your volume, Ashurn,” he hissed, giving the wizard a hard look.
The man in question gave him an odd look. “Right…have you hit your head somewhere, Snape? I could have sworn that…” Ashurn trailed off, eyes locking onto the small figure behind him. “Oh!”
The hand on his cloak grew rigid, and Severus could feel the child pressing into him, as if attempting to surround himself with the dark piece of cloth. He tensed his grip on Riddle’s shoulder.
“Quite. So if you will allow me anoth—“
”Merlin, is he a looker!”
”…What?”
Ashurn bent over, cocking his head as he studied Riddle, or what could be seen of him. “Hello there, kid. Glad to finally put a face to the, er, lack of name.” Riddle just pressed himself further into Severus’ cloak. Severus sighed.
”Ashurn, now is not the time for conversation. I need another day off,” he said bluntly, showing no sign of interest in the current situation. Ashurn paid him no attention, eyes still fixated on the child hiding behind him. He hummed.
”Hm, quite the aptitude, I see…” The man muttered to himself, stroking his goatee. “Say, Snape, what is this boy’s name?”
Severus sighed once more.
“I don’t believe that—“
”…Marvolo.” A tiny voice whispered.
Severus’ head snapped down to his side. The child was timidly peeking out from behind him now, although the hand that gripped his cloak hadn’t loosened.
Marvolo? Did I hear that right? Is that his middle name or something?
“Marvolo, eh? Well, what a moment we have here. Pleasure, little Marvolo.” Ashurn stuck out a hand, which Riddle just eyed warily and, more importantly, left hanging. Severus almost let out a snort, but wisely chose to hold it back.
Ashurn didn’t seem to mind at all, simply lowering it and straightening himself, clasping his hands behind his back. He glanced back towards Severus, giving him what looked to be a look of approval.
“Wherever you’ve met this kid, Snape, you’ve got a good eye,” He said, tone bordering on impressed. Severus narrowed his eyes, subconsciously pulling Riddle closer to him.
”Right. And do I get that day off?”
“What? Oh yes, another day off.” Ashurn waved a dismissive hand. “Why bother? You can just keep him here while you work. Double the efficiency that way— some might call it killing two birds with one stone!”
Severus furrowed his eyebrows. Keeping Riddle here while he worked? No young child should be around a boiling cauldron, let alone multiple. That was just purely dangerous— what was Ashurn thinking?
The wizard must’ve understood his concerns, for he yet raised another hand and pointed it to the back of the store, where the stairs leading to the second floor resided.
“There is that room that I said you could use, why not leave him there?”
"Ashurn, then that would defeat the purpose of bringing him along with me in the first place,” Severus deadpanned, wishing that he could hex the man right then and there.
“Ah, I see. Little wanderer is he?” Ashurn said, glancing back at Riddle with that small shine in his eye.
Severus thought for a moment, before answering. “Yes, quite. So if you will give me—“
”Then leave him with me!”
Severus stared at his employer.
”I am not even going to consider that,” he said, pinching his nose bridge. “I don’t need logic to know that that is not a good idea.”
Ashurn scoffed, affronted. “I can deal with children, Snape, no problem! Plus, it isn’t as if I leave the counter at all. I can easily watch—“
”Mr Ashurn! Could I pay for these really quickly?” A quaint elderly witch shuffled over carrying a bag filled with various potion ingredients. The wizard in question closed his eyes briefly before turning to her with a smile.
“Of course, Mrs Whitmore. Just hand that bag over please— thank you.”
”Thank you very much dear— Oh! Well if it isn't Severus. How have you been, dear?” She squinted up at him through her glasses.
“Quite fine. Thank you,” Severus said briskly, not in much of a mood for small talk. The woman didn’t seem to mind, just continuing to smile up at him gently.
“Why, I wanted to thank you for that Pepperup potion that you brewed the other day. I haven’t a clue what you did, but one dose of your brew and my dear Mallorie was all better! Hardly any other pepperup potions from the other apothecaries worked, and this one was the last one I was going to try. But by heavens thank goodness I did! You certainly deserve all the business you get around here—“
”Mrs Whitmore, whenever you’re ready for payment,” Ashurn called from the counter, effectively interrupting her ramblings. She looked over in surprise, before thanking Severus one last time and shuffling off.
Severus let out a small sigh of relief, glad to finally have some break from listening to people talk. He glanced down, and his gaze met with Riddle’s, who was looking up at him with some sort of awed expression.
He kept their eyes locked for a moment more and an elegant eyebrow, upon which Riddle of course turned red and looked away. Severus shook his head in mild amusement before looking up and scanning his surroundings.
Over at the counter, Ashurn seemed to have accidentally preoccupied himself with a full line of customers. Well that was fortunate. He almost grabbed Riddle and steered the child right back out of the store, but of course he couldn’t do so. Not if he wanted to keep his job.
Instead, he placed the hand that was on the child’s shoulder onto the child’s back instead, and directed him towards the brewing room. It wasn’t an ideal location, but good enough for a temporary reprieve from socialising. Plus, it shouldn’t be too hazardous as long as he kept a watchful eye on Riddle.
As soon as he closed the brewing room’s door behind them, the faint chatter from the apothecary was cut off. Thank Merlin his past self insisted on a silencing ward when he first started working here.
He let out another sigh. “Well then. That, Riddle, is a snippet of what the wizarding world is. Not that different from muggle society I would imagine.”
Severus turned to the child, whose eyes were wide and brimming with questions. He contemplated Riddle for a moment, and smirked before striding across the room to light the two candles on the window still. The room was soon illuminated with a flickering light, bathing them in an orange glow.
He extinguished the fire on the tip of his wand, before turning back to Riddle once more. He held his hands behind his back and regarded the child.
“If you have any inquiries, now might be the time to ask them,” he stated impassively, preparing himself for the inevitable barrage of questions. However, to his slight intrigue, Riddle just stood there in a sort of stunned silence, staring at him, eyes shining.
Severus tilted his head slightly, watching the child. He narrowed his eyes.
Riddle didn’t seem all that interested in his surroundings anymore, he noticed. Not once had Riddle’s gaze strayed from his figure to marvel at all the unfamiliar items around him, instead just remaining fixated on him. Fascination lingered in those eyes, but for what?
”You don’t seem all that surprised by the wizarding world, Riddle,” Severus chose to say, despite the truth being quite obviously the opposite. Riddle blinked. There was a pause as the child looked down at his hands once more, before hesitantly speaking up.
“Ah, uh, well, sir, I could have seen a little bit of things like this, sir. Not the ingredients and stuff, sir, but uh, like the flying and floating stuff, sir.”
Severus quirked an eyebrow. “Is that so?” The child nodded shyly. “Where have you seen such… ‘flying and floating stuff’, Riddle?”
Riddle’s body tensed upon hearing the question, the hands at his sides clenching into tight fists. Severus furrowed his eyebrows. He pocketed his wand, and took a slow step forward.
“Don’t be alarmed, Riddle. The question was not of ill intent.”
He took another step forward. Riddle took a small step back. “I didn’t mention any flying stuff— no, no, I- I’m not like that— I don’t have those—“
Severus stepped forward again, but Riddle didn’t seem to notice now, arms moving to hug himself.
“Don’t—don’t hurt me, I didn’t say anything, I didn’t say anything,” Riddle whispered, breaths quickening. Severus’ jaw tightened.
“I won’t Riddle. Calm down, no one is going to hurt you.”
He took a final step and stood in front of the child, hands raised. They hovered for a moment, but they eventually moved to rest firmly on the child’s shoulders. He bent over, looking Riddle directly in the eye.
“No one is going to hurt you,” he repeated, gazing at Riddle. “…not anymore.”
…not while I’m around.
Blue eyes raised to meet obsidian black ones, searching, and slowly, Riddle’s breathing slowed, and he took a shaky breath in, and out. Severus let his hands linger for a few seconds more, before releasing them and taking a step back. He clasped them behind once more, and assumed an expression of disinterest.
“Are you feeling better now?” He asked lightly, carefully watching the other. Riddle took a small breath and nodded, fidgeting with his hands, visibly embarrassed.
“Very well. You need not ans—“
"Snape! I was wondering where you’d gone. Ah, hello again Marvolo,” Ashurn came bursting in, instantly breaking the peaceful atmosphere. Riddle jumped at the sudden entrance, and Severus just exhaled, crossing his arms.
“Of all times…” he muttered, shaking his head. “At least close the door behind you, Ashurn,” Severus said, pinning the man with an irritated stare.
“You do need some ventilation here— hiding down here all the time yet not bothering to open the window at all.” Ashurn absentmindedly waved his hands and the windows across the room opened, causing a cold draft to blow in and the candles to flicker. He turned his head to Riddle shaking his head. “It’s unfortunate that you’ve gotten a hobbit for a guardian, kid.”
Severus paid Ashurn no mind, flicking his wand and causing the windows to snap back shut. “I don’t suppose you have given my request for a second day off any thought, have you.”
Ashurn smirked. “Why of course I have! Contrary to what some might think, I’m not completely heartless.” The man’s smile faltered, and he paused for a moment, appearing deep in thought, before looking back up with an apologetic expression.
“I truly wish I could give you that day off, Snape. But we are rather short staffed, in a manner of speaking. And with that one day off you took yesterday, potions stock is already running low. On usual days this wouldn’t be an issue, but it is Yule season, and…”
Severus pursed his lips. He knew that what Ashurn was saying made sense, if anything it gave him all the more reason to stay and work. But… his gaze flickered to the child at his side, who was watching him with something attributed to concern.
He took a breath. Leaving Riddle unattended was simply not an option.
“I do apolo—“
“…Which is why I suggest you leave him to me to look after, then you can safely complete your work and know that your small friend here is safe!” Ashurn said, smiling at him once more.
Severus closed his eyes and sighed. He was doing that a lot today.
“Look,” he started, starting to feel slightly exasperated, “I understand that the demand might be overtaking the supply at this point, but I cannot allow—“ Severus paused, feeling a small tug at his sleeve.
He glanced down to his left, and blinked at the sight of Riddle biting his bottom lip and gripping his sleeve tightly.
“Yes…Marvolo?”
Riddle‘s mouth opened and closed, and Severus waited patiently for the child to find whatever he wanted to say. Riddle swallowed, and eventually he spoke up.
“I, uh, I can stay with the mister while you work, sir.” Severus furrowed his eyebrows. His gaze flickered momentarily to Ashurn, who was just watching them with interest. There was an uncomfortable feeling forming in his stomach, and he looked back down at Riddle.
“Are you quite sure, Marvolo?” Severus edged, eyes searching. There was a pause as Riddle frowned to himself, but eventually he nodded, shining eyes meeting Severus’.
“See, even the kid trusts me, and we’ve just met! Clearly there isn’t an issue here,” Ashurn said, butting in and raising an eyebrow. Severus glared at the man, but sighed in resignation.
“Very well. Ashurn, you had better not let him out of your sight,” Severus said, pointing his wand at his employer. The wizard in question raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning.
“Yes, yes. Come then, little Marvolo. We’ve got work to do—“ Ashurn held out one of his hands, which again, Riddle just eyed warily. Ashurn shrugged, lowering his hand. Riddle glanced up at Severus, and he could feel the grip on his sleeve loosening, until it disappeared entirely.
”Hey, I could even teach you how to do transactions! What do you think about that?”
Severus watched them leave, and as the door closed behind them, he was left in the familiar silence of the brewing room, a single candle illuminating the space. He stared at the closed door for a second longer, before snapping himself out of it.
Look at yourself, Severus, he berated himself as he turned away from the door. Worrying so much over one child. Ashurn should be able to manage Riddle for a few hours— and he’s in the room directly next to yours.
Severus strode over to the cauldrons and started filling them with water. There is no need for concern, he thought, lighting the firewood beneath three of the cauldrons. Just focus on the task at hand, Severus.
He picked up a mortar and a pestle and started crushing a bicorn horn. First, Bicorn Horns, then the English Thyme and Mandrake root— hold on, perhaps reducing the amount of sliced Mandrake roots but increasing the rate of stirring might yield better potencies…
As he went through the familiar motions of preparing ingredients and the scent of the potions gradually filled the air, could feel himself slowly getting into the rhythm of brewing, his mind blocking out any other distractions.
Yes, everything should be fine.
…
But that uncomfortable feeling in his gut never left.
To be continued