Circle of Friends Remix Story!
Nov. 10th, 2012 12:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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cof_remix.Disclaimer: Please don’t sue me. I only have pocket lint. Characters either belong to Joss Whedon or J.K. Rowling. I don’t own them.
The original story is “In Truth, Beauty” by Kathryn Andersen.
Truth as Old as Rhyme (the “Beauty and the Bat” Remix)
It started with a misplaced order. It continued through acerbic correspondence. An unlikely friendship developed, and when she moved, he was able to locate a flat for her. When he needed a place to recover, hers was the doorstep he arrived at. It cemented when she committed what should have been an unforgivable act and he discovered that the impossible is actually quite possible.
Oh, but dear reader, we are getting ahead of ourselves. All things in good time. Lemon drop?
As I was saying, it started with a misplaced order. Usually, he placed his order to The Magic Shoppe, which was only a few streets over from Diagon Alley. His reputation alone made him both a feared and sought-after customer, and the employees at The Magic Shoppe understood that they were to do everything in their power to keep the Potions Professor a very happy man. Or at the very least, a satisfied one. A mostly satisfied one. … They were to do their best to keep providing quality service so as to not lose him as a customer. Unfortunately for those employees, that task was a nigh impossible one. You have probably not had the opportunity to meet our Potions Professor, so I shall just say that he can be particularly difficult to please.
I had suspected for some time that he was becoming increasingly frustrated with the quality of ingredients he was receiving and I … Well, I don’t suppose it would come as any surprise to you if I told you that sometimes, due to circumstances, I am forced to “meddle” in order to bring about better results. I merely made a few adjustments to his order, resulting in him sending an order to “The Magic Box” in southern California. One-word difference, you see, but, oh, dear reader, what a difference it was! A delightful lady that I have had the opportunity to converse with on several occasions experienced no small measure of confusion, but she rose admirably to the occasion, filling his order and sending it back to him that same day, along with a note suggesting he may have confused her shop for another and that attention to detail might become him. Oh, how that stung at his pride, and if you know our professor at all, you know how much his pride means to him, and he fired off a response that he was not a dunderhead and as such, he had placed an order exactly to the place of business he had intended and he would continue doing so as long as the shop continued to please him.
Damned if the powdered beetles’ eggs weren’t more potent from The Magic Box than The Magic Shoppe. (He has gone on to write several articles for Potions magazines about how the potency on different ingredients may be increased by spending a substantial period of time on the Hellmouth.)
It started with a misplaced order, and I will admit that I was a part of it. It continued through acerbic correspondence. Our lovely Magic Box proprietor is a very blunt person, and would write a note to send with his orders. Usually a question or a comment about the best way to use the ingredients. Our professor would send back a blistering response that was polite on the surface, and she would respond in kind. The two respected each other’s brains, you see, and would work to receive the responses that would engage their thoughts. The turning point was when she asked how to tell if one of her suppliers was cheating her on ingredients. Our professor gave her the quickest solution, and sure enough, her supplier was indeed cheating her. As you can imagine, this did not go over so well, and she retaliated against this supplier with Bobotuber Pus in an envelope and sent our Potions Master a note informing him of the action she had taken and that he could be rest assured his ingredients would be top-notch. Our brilliant, but demanding, professor sent our blunt proprietor a missive cautioning her to be more careful when enacting revenge. Now, if you know our lovely manager at all, you know how seriously she takes vengeance, so you can imagine what her initial reaction was. Oh, how she had worked herself up into a towering rage!
At first.
Our shop-lady of the ever-changing hair colour quickly realized that he hadn’t told her to not get revenge. He hadn’t told her that vengeance was wrong. He had told her to be more careful next time.
Next time.
He understood her!
And so, their friendship continued to be developed, with them sharing various revenge tactics along with their orders.
It started with a misplaced order. It continued through acerbic correspondence. An unlikely friendship developed, and when she moved, he was able to locate a flat for her. She had not been planning on returning to Europe. She liked it in America, where she knew people and was mostly accepted. But after the wedding-that-wasn’t, she did not want to stay much longer. She needed to get back to her roots, get back to what first made her her, and while she considered returning to her former profession, she quickly realized that that was not where her heart was any longer. The other option was to return to Europe. Now, she was not about to go to the backwoods village she started in. It was probably overrun by rabbits, anyway, and that just wasn’t a place she wanted to be. But England? That she could do. She’d be near the majority of men that had rarely treated her like an annoyance that must be borne.
The problem, of course, was in where to live. She did not want to live with Giles. Nor would he want to live with her, though he had offered her the use of his sofa, were it necessary. He liked having his own space, though, and she liked walking around her apartment naked. Those two things just wouldn’t mix.
I, of course, offered her a room here, but she laughed and shook her head.
Leave it to our professor to come up with a solution. He owned a rather large flat in London, just to have a place to get to if necessary, but he rarely used it. Everything he needed was at Hogwarts, after all. So she quickly found herself renting it from him, with the understanding that she was to not enter the room that contained his belongings. She accepted his stipulations, and the two became very happy in their arrangement. She had a place to live that was mostly hers that she could walk around without clothes as much as she liked. He no longer had an empty place. Both were happy.
And, of course, it meant that the two saw each other more often, if only to talk about the flat and for her to give him her rent money. He fell into the pattern of picking up his weekly ingredients from her in person.
That quickly turned into a weekly lunch with her on Sundays, and if the both of them looked forward to Sunday more than any other day of the week, well, nobody (except for myself, of course, though at that point I was but a portrait in his office) was any the wiser.
It started with a misplaced order. It continued through acerbic correspondence. An unlikely friendship developed, and when she moved, he was able to locate a flat for her. When he needed a place to recover, hers was the doorstep he arrived at.
Why would he need to recover? Well, he was a Potions Master who was undertaking dangerous work, after all, even if it was believed he was no longer a double agent but was, in fact, a triple agent who had reverted to his original allegiance. He and I alone knew the truth, or so we believed. I suppose we shouldn’t have underestimated the intelligence of the woman involved … But once again, I am getting ahead of myself. Tsk.
He knew that his work was dangerous. Hence the flat he owned, just in case. One of the things he had neglected to mention to his renter was that it was Unplottable, and protected by the Fidelius Charm, just in case. He did not want her being hurt because she had the misfortune to rent from him, after all. And if there were other reasons for him wanting to keep her safe, well. Once again, there was none the wiser. Except for myself, but I have been one of his confidantes, if not his only confidante, for many years now.
In that last battle, he was presumed to be fatally bitten. He had been inoculating himself against the venom for decades, something which wouldn’t work for anyone planning on going into snake-infested territory, since one would have to build up a resistance to each type of venom, but for his purposes worked well enough. He’d also created some anti-venom just in case, and stocked it at Hogwarts and his flat, as well as a few other choice areas, just in case.
When he found himself in need of the anti-venom, it wasn’t a conscious decision to Apparate to her doorstep. It was as simple as, he needed the anti-venom, she had it, she would help him, and he was knocking on her door.
In spite of the preparations he had made — and he had made extensive contingency plans, just in case — the venom still ravaged his system, and it took him a while to recover. She spent that time taking care of him, and yes, getting to know him better.
It started with a misplaced order. It continued through acerbic correspondence. An unlikely friendship developed, and when she moved, he was able to locate a flat for her. When he needed a place to recover, hers was the doorstep he arrived at. It cemented when she committed what should have been an unforgivable act and he discovered that the impossible is actually quite possible.
Yes, dear reader, we finally arrive here.
Surprisingly enough, they were friends. Sometimes, they might classify each other as colleagues, though they had different professions. Sometimes they classified each other as business associates. But regardless of what they called each other or classified each other as, they were friends in actuality.
Now, my dear reader, I was not actually there, so while they have told me what their thoughts and dialogue were, the descriptors are pure conjecture on my part, and I have always had a bit of a romantic streak. There is also no guarantee that it actually happened this way, but I like to think that it did.
“Do you love me?” She posed the question casually, and he should have been surprised. After all, they had previously been discussing the Goblin Wars of the 1800s over a cup of tea and scones. But this was her. She changed topics as quickly and easily as she changed hair colours, as quickly and easily as the former headmaster had changed favourite sweets, as quickly and easily as his students changed romantic partners.
No, the surprising part to him was not the question that she asked, or that it was seemingly out of nowhere, but that he answered it. Not only that, but he answered it honestly without any attempt at subterfuge. “Yes.” As part of his job, he had to lie, and do so as easily as breathing, as easily as Sirius Black used to break hearts, as easily as James Potter tormented him. When necessary, he would lie without including the truth, but he much preferred to use the truth as much as possible, to cloud his lies with truth. It was easier, and to be quite honest, he abhorred lying, though he recognized the necessity.
She seemed happy with his answer, flashing a bright smile at him. “Will you marry me?”
Again, a quick answer that was far more honest than he would normally give. “No.”
Storms began to gather in those eyes. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not safe for you.” The third answer confirmed what he had been suspecting and he shoved his cup at her, grating out a single-word command: “Drink.”
Her eyes flickered dangerously and her mouth set itself in a mulish line, but she obediently tossed the contents of the cup down her throat.
“Who paid you?” He had long since perfected the art of thundering without raising his voice, and he used it here.
She jumped, her own cup rattling on its saucer and sloshing tea over the edge. “No one.”
He worked to keep his temper in check, long fingers tapping against the wooden back of the chair he had been occupying. “Do you think me stupid, woman? You used Veritaserum.”
She nodded in agreement, nothing hidden in her eyes. “Yes, I did. Don’t know how that means I think you’re stupid.”
Obviously, he would have to phrase it a different way. “Where did you get it?”
“I brewed it myself.” She shrugged as she spoke, obviously nonplussed at the amount of skill successfully brewing Veritaserum required.
The words popped out of his mouth without thought, something he would blame on the potion he had imbibed. “But you’re a Muggle.”
Her eyes rolled. “And of course, the only way someone could possibly brew their own potions is with their own wand. I like potions. They make sense. If you follow the steps, you get the same results every time. They’re not like people.”
“How did you manage the controlled flame without a spell?”
“A human invention called a Bunsen Burner.”
He tried again to find out what he’d previously asked. “Who asked you to drug me?”
“Read my lips: no one.” Her lips formed the word slowly.
“Then why?”
“I needed to know how you felt. I needed to know if you can be trusted. Can you be trusted?”
He wanted to give a different answer. But his mouth opened and answered of its own volition. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve spent the last near two decades working as a spy. No, I can’t be trusted.”
“Oh, that.” She waved it off with a vague hand motion.
“You knew?”
“Well, duh. You think I would rent from you and entertain the notion of a romantic possibility with you without knowing everything about you that I could? I have a very talented witch as a … sort of friend. Anything she can’t find out with magic or computer isn’t worth knowing. I think it’s very honourable that you would choose to do that, though not very pragmatic or rational. It’s been quite dangerous for you, and you pride yourself on your intelligence and rationality. That tells me that you found a bigger reason to do this than logic.”
Pieces clicked together. “You were part of the Slayer’s group, weren’t you?”
Another roll of her eyes. “Duh. Is that really a surprise? I haven’t really kept our adventures a secret, you know.”
“Do you love me?”
No hesitation. “Yes.”
Obviously, she meant it or she wouldn’t have been able to say it. Dumbfounded, he blurted out, “Why?”
“Because you’re intelligent, you understand the need for revenge, and your voice makes me want to have orgasms with you. Also babies. Lots and lots of babies that I don’t even want to trade in for more money.”
“Does the Dark Mark mean nothing to you?”
She met his eyes steadily. “The lower you fall, the more you had to climb to get back up here. You didn’t fall as far as I did. You were an actual Death Eater for, what? Less than a year? I was a vengeance demon for a thousand times that long. The worst thing you’ve done pales to mine. The question isn’t whether I can live with your past, but if you can live with mine. My ex couldn’t.”
Well. This explained quite a bit. “Well. It appears that we are well matched, after all.”
She beamed at him. “So, you love me, I love you, I can take care of myself so you don’t have to worry about me. Thank you for the Unplottable- and Fidelius Charm-protected flat, by the way. Does this mean we are getting married after all?”
He couldn’t help but smile back at her. “What have I done to deserve you?”
She stated the answer matter of factly. “You exist.” Two words that healed an old wound.
Two months later, Severus Snape and Anya Jenkins were married on a sunny day in July in a small ceremony.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2012-11-10 04:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-11-10 06:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-11-10 09:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-11-10 09:51 pm (UTC)In regard to comments, my apologies for the broken link on the original page, I've fixed it now.
If you want to leave a comment, the story is archived at various different places where it might be easier to leave comments:
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2884877/1/In-Truth-Beauty
http://archiveofourown.org/works/17042
(no subject)
Date: 2012-11-10 05:52 pm (UTC)When I approach a remix, my first act is to go read the original story, so I can assess how closely the remix follows and how creatively it varies from the source material. The one by Kathryn (
The narrative was a huge part of this. At Lemon drop? in the second paragraph, I knew immediately who was telling the story (perfect touch), and the personality consistently came through without ever becoming intrusive.
The device of using each of the five sentences in the introductory paragraph to frame the building flow of events? Imaginative and effective: first tell what happened (is going to happen), and then show it, with the entire course laid out in advance. And this is just about the right length of story to make that work to best effect.
The real pleasure, though, comes from the description of the growing interaction between these two people. The farther it goes, the funnier it gets, building to the concluding conversation that comprised the entirety of “In Truth, Beauty”. Which conversation was, itself, projected from rather than duplicating what
You continue to grow as a writer. It’s wonderful.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-11-10 06:20 pm (UTC)The first thing I did when I decided to do this story was ask myself, "WHY did Snape place an order with a store in Sunnydale, California to start this whole thing off?" I came up with a theory of Hellmouth items being more potent, I thought about Snape placing orders with stores all over the world to cover his tracks, I thought about Dumbledore intercepting the letter and sending it off to someone else- and that's when things began to meld together in my head.
I decided to use the five sentences to frame things, just to see if it would work. I liked it a lot, so I kept it in. I'm glad that it worked as well as I hoped it would!
Thank you very much for your feedback! Yours, and the writers I remix, are always the feedback I look forward to the most.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-11-10 08:46 pm (UTC)Ah, Dumbledore, the old meddler. (smirk)
Interesting device there, to have that repetition of the introductory paragraph, with each part being added on and explained as it went.
It's really rather fascinating to read this reinterpretation... because it makes me realize the things I left out of the series, left open to interpretation, such as the actual location and order of events.
Now, she was not about to go to the backwoods village she started in. It was probably overrun by rabbits, anyway, and that just wasn’t a place she wanted to be.
(grin)
He liked having his own space, though, and she liked walking around her apartment naked. Those two things just wouldn’t mix.
(smirk)
She nodded in agreement, nothing hidden in her eyes. “Yes, I did. Don’t know how that means I think you’re stupid.”
So very Anya.
She met his eyes steadily. “The lower you fall, the more you had to climb to get back up here. You didn’t fall as far as I did. You were an actual Death Eater for, what? Less than a year? I was a vengeance demon for a thousand times that long. The worst thing you’ve done pales to mine. The question isn’t whether I can live with your past, but if you can live with mine. My ex couldn’t.”
Yessssss.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-11-10 09:12 pm (UTC)Nice Work
Date: 2012-11-11 04:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2015-11-02 02:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2015-11-05 08:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2015-11-05 10:57 pm (UTC)Review for story
Date: 2015-12-21 05:30 pm (UTC)RE: Review for story
Date: 2015-12-22 03:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2015-12-23 04:15 pm (UTC)What a wonderful story! Thank you for giving two tragic but very-well matched characters a much-deserved happy ending!
(no subject)
Date: 2016-01-03 11:08 pm (UTC)