Severus had not planned on bringing anyone home.
He'd planned on:
Surviving Diagon Alley alone
Not embarrassing himself in front of Professor McGonagall
Maybe not saying anything stupid to Lily Evans
Two out of three wasn't bad.
Now he was standing in the Leaky Cauldron, watching McGonagall talk to Lily's parents, and realizing the conversation had taken a turn for the worse.
"…and it would be reassuring," Mrs Evans was saying, twisting her handbag strap, "if Lily knew someone at school before she goes. Someone local. Someone… familiar."
"She already does," Mr Evans said, nodding toward Severus. "The Snape boy. He seems decent enough."
Severus stared at the wall so he wouldn't have to process the phrase "decent enough."
McGonagall's gaze slid over to him.
"If his mother agrees," she said, "a brief visit would do no harm. Spinner's End is on your way back, is it not?"
Severus' stomach dropped.
Lily brightened. "We can really go to your house?"
Petunia made a face. "The river district? Mum—"
"We said we would try," Mrs Evans said. "It's only fair. Professor McGonagall can't walk you home forever."
Severus opened his mouth to say something sensible like my house is a disaster and my mother might murder me, but what came out was:
"…Yes. We live near the river. It's not far."
So that was that.
Five minutes later, they were stepping out of the Leaky Cauldron into Muggle London, McGonagall politely vanishing with a crack after a last, meaningful look at Severus as if to say: if anything explodes, it had better not be your fault.
Then it was him, the Evans family, and a walk back to Cokeworth.
By the time they reached Spinner's End, Lily had burned through at least a dozen questions about brooms, ghosts, and how exactly the Sorting Hat "read minds," and Petunia had burned through at least a dozen eye-rolls.
Spinner's End looked worse with company.
The cramped row of houses sagged toward the river, chimneys leaning like they'd given up standing straight. The factory loomed in the distance, belching smoke.
Lily slowed, taking it in.
Petunia didn't bother hiding her discomfort.
Mr and Mrs Evans exchanged a quick glance that said, in parent, this is what we agreed to?
Severus pretended not to notice any of it.
"This is us," he said, stopping at the peeling front door with the too-stiff lock. "I don't know if she's… she should be home."
He hoped she was home.
He hoped she wasn't in one of her bad moods.
He hoped she wasn't—
He opened the door.
The house was quiet.
Not empty.
Quiet.
"Mum?" he called.
For a moment, nothing.
Upstairs, behind a closed bedroom door, something hit an internal brakes pedal so hard it could've left scorch marks.
Nico had been neck-deep in the sort of "shape testing" that would get this entire story thrown out of polite society. Somewhere between "how far can fabric stretch" and "how much can a human pore dilate before complaining," he froze.
> Incoming, his survival instinct yelled, ten orgasms too late.
Eileen's hand slapped over her own mouth.
Her other hand clawed at the bedframe.
Footsteps. Voices. The creak of the front door.
Severus.
And more than one voice.
She shut her eyes, counted down from three, and shoved everything back down under the surface with the kind of discipline that had once won duels.
"Get out of my everything and behave," she hissed under her breath.
Nico retracted from places no decent being should ever access, sulking, and fell back into "innocent under-skin layer" with all the reluctance of a dragged cat.
By the time Severus called "Mum?" again, Eileen was on her feet, robe reassembled to "functional," hair yanked back, breathing only slightly faster than normal.
She wiped her hands on the robe, told every muscle in her body to stop trembling, and headed downstairs.
Severus, for his part, had no clue he'd just cut off approximately 83472 units of something his mother would deny doing until death.
He just knew he was about to open his disaster of a sitting room to the only girls he'd ever half-liked.
Perfect.
---
Eileen came into view on the stairs, one hand on the rail.
Severus always forgot how small she actually was until other adults were around. She carried herself like she was bigger, sharper, more dangerous.
Right now she also looked… flushed.
Not obviously. Not "running up the stairs" flushed. Just a little more color in her cheeks, a slight brightness in her eyes, the robe sitting weirdly right on her.
"Mum," he said, too fast. "This is— uh— Mr and Mrs Evans, and Lily, and Petunia. We met them in the Alley. Professor McGonagall thought it would be good if we…"
He trailed off.
Eileen assessed the crowd in two seconds flat.
Nice middle-aged couple in clean but not ostentatious clothes. Redheaded girl vibrating with magic. Older blonde girl vibrating with resentment. Her son, vibrating with panic.
She should've been annoyed.
She mostly was.
There was also still a drumbeat between her legs that said: you had other plans for this afternoon.
"Mrs Snape?" Mr Evans said, holding out his hand. "We're Lily and Petunia's parents. Hope this isn't an imposition. Professor McGonagall said—"
"Yes," Eileen said, taking the hand briefly. "She does that."
Her voice came out steady. Good.
She stepped fully into the hallway.
From Severus' angle, she looked composed. Maybe a bit stiff. He didn't see the white-knuckled grip she kept on the banister for that first heartbeat.
"Come in," she said. "Mind the rug. It likes to trip people."
Mrs Evans laughed politely, assuming it was a joke.
It wasn't.
---
They crowded into the sitting room.
Severus watched as his mother navigated this like it was a duel: weighing every word, every movement.
"Tea?" she offered, because that's what you offered. "It's all I've got."
"That would be lovely," Mrs Evans said.
Mr Evans smiled. "If it's no trouble."
"It's already on," Eileen lied smoothly as she headed for the kitchen.
Severus sat on the edge of the sofa next to Lily, hyper-aware of the way her knee nearly brushed his.
Petunia perched as far from the river-facing window as possible, pinched expression in place.
The Evans parents took the other, equally lumpy chair.
The room felt smaller than usual.
From the kitchen came the clink of cups and the faint hiss of a quick, wandless heating charm.
Severus heard his mother mutter something under her breath, too low to catch.
He assumed it was about the kettle.
It was, in fact: "If you twitch anywhere inappropriate I will boil you."
Nico twitched nowhere inappropriate.
He coiled himself around her ribs like a chastity belt and sulked, but he stayed out of trouble.
For now.
---
"What a… cosy home," Mrs Evans said gently, looking around.
Severus wanted to die.
He knew what "cosy" meant when applied to this room: small, dim, the furniture too old, the wallpaper faded. It was what people said when they were trying not to say "poor."
"It's what we can afford," Eileen called from the kitchen. "Tea helps."
Petunia's gaze snagged on Severus' wand where it lay on the table.
"So you… practice here?" she asked him. "Magic."
"A bit," he said. "Mum supervises. Mostly potions. Less likely to blow the roof off."
"That is not technically true," Eileen added, reappearing with a tray. "Potions can blow roofs off if you're stupid."
She set the cups down.
Severus watched Lily watch his mother.
There was a kind of cautious awe there.
"You went to Hogwarts too," Lily said. "Professor McGonagall said you were very good at Transfiguration. And potions."
Eileen snorted softly. "Minerva exaggerates."
Severus stiffened. "She doesn't."
His mother flicked him a glance that could've been annoyance or something like pride.
"Drink," she said instead. "Before the steam runs away."
They did.
Tea filled the silence for a few sips.
Then Mr Evans cleared his throat. "Severus, is it? Quite a world out there, isn't it? Diagon Alley."
"Yes, sir," Severus said. "I've been a few times. Mum takes me when we can afford it."
Mrs Evans smiled. "You'll be a big help to Lily then. Show her the ropes."
He tried to swallow his heart.
"I… I can," he said. "If she wants."
Lily nodded immediately. "I do. You know things. You stopped that telescope like it was nothing."
He felt his ears go hot.
"It was going to fall on your head," he muttered.
"Still counts," she said.
Petunia watched all of this like someone standing outside a shop window, staring in at people who could afford things she couldn't.
Severus noticed.
He didn't know what to do with it.
He knew envy in himself; seeing it in someone else, this sharp and obvious, was unsettling.
"So," Petunia said abruptly, looking at Eileen, "you did all the same things Lily's going to do. Cast spells. Brew potions. Live in a castle. And then you came back here."
There was no art in the question. Just raw curiosity, edged with "why would you choose that."
Eileen took a sip of tea.
"In short?" she said. "Because magic doesn't pay the rent unless you're lucky or crooked. I was neither."
Mr Evans shifted uncomfortably.
Mrs Evans' hand tightened on her cup.
Lily winced.
Petunia just watched.
Severus stared at his mother.
He'd never heard her put it that bluntly in front of strangers.
"Also," Eileen added, voice lightening a fraction, "someone had to teach this one which end of a cauldron not to lick."
Severus sputtered. "I never—"
"She's joking," Lily said quickly.
"She isn't," Severus muttered.
Lily giggled.
The tension cracked, just a little.
---
The visit didn't last long.
The Evans parents were polite, but they clearly didn't want to be in Spinner's End after dark, and Eileen clearly didn't want to entertain anyone much longer.
She walked them to the door.
Lily turned back on the step, smile wide. "Thank you for the tea, Mrs Snape. And for letting Severus come to Diagon Alley. It… it helped. A lot."
Eileen nodded once. "You're welcome. Try not to let the castle eat you."
Lily grinned even harder.
Petunia hesitated.
Her eyes flicked between Severus, his mother, and the dim little hallway. Something complicated twisted across her face.
"Thank you," she said, stiff but genuine. "For the tea."
Eileen's mouth twitched. "You're welcome."
Severus stood behind her, trying to smile without looking like he was trying.
"See you on the train," Lily called as they left.
He nodded, throat too tight to say much.
The door clicked shut after them.
Their footsteps faded.
The house exhaled.
So did Eileen.
She leaned her forehead briefly against the door, shoulders sagging for a second before she straightened.
Severus watched her, frowning.
"You… all right?" he asked.
"I will be," she said. "Your Professor McGonagall has a twisted sense of humor, sending company on that particular afternoon."
He blinked. "What's wrong with this afternoon?"
"Nothing," she said. "The universe merely has bad timing."
She pushed away from the door.
"Wash your face," she added. "You've got soot on your chin. And try not to burn down the house tonight thinking about red hair."
He choked. "Mum."
"What," she said. "I was your age once. Go."
He fled toward the stairs, mortified.
She watched him go, waited until his door shut, then let her head thunk lightly against the wall.
Upstairs, in the bedroom she'd abandoned mid-experiment, a very frustrated slime was doing the emotional equivalent of pacing.
She closed her eyes and took a long, slow breath.
"Next time," she muttered under her breath, "you get me for more than twelve uninterrupted minutes."
No answer, but she could feel the eager, obscene agreement under her skin.
For now, though, Eileen Prince-Snape had fulfilled her duties: tea served, mother-mask on, son not traumatized further.
The rest of it would have to wait.
Barely.