Author's Notes: To any interested readers of my stories who may not already be aware, I am now posting NEW stories privately at crmediagal [dot)com. If you would like to request access to these fics, artworks, and other fandom creations I'm developing, you may request access to them there. Hopefully one day I'll be back to fanfiction [dot)net, but until that day, I'll be happily creating and posting and sharing on my own safe space.

Below is an excerpt from Chapter 1 of a brand new SSHG fic I'm posting at my website now entitled, St Severus, and I'd LOVE for you to read the rest. So, head on over to my website if you desire more!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. St. Vincent is copyrighted to and belongs to The Weinstein Company. I'm just playing in their sandboxes and own none of their associated characters. New characters belong to me.


St Severus

by CRMediaGal


Excerpt from Chapter 1:

"Ahem? I wish to close my vault."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Mr Snape," expressed the puny goblin scrawling something onto a piece of parchment and not glancing up from his work. "You've been a member of our bank for forty-seven years. May I ask what we might do to make you reconsider?"

"Listen, pal," Severus stewed; the goblin blinked and turned his shrewd gaze onto his testy client, "you're just trying to make a living like the rest of us schmucks. I really don't want to tell you to go fuck yourself, so can we just get this over with?"

He knew he was being an inconsiderate prick, not to mention unnecessarily rude at that, but after a terse meeting with one of Gringotts' financial advisers earlier that morning, which hadn't gone at all to his liking, Severus was not only pressed for time but pressed for patience. He was also nursing a terrible hangover from the night before.

Gringotts Wizarding Bank's tellers were known for their general unfriendliness, but Severus Snape was a bugger who could overshadow another's unpleasantness by leaps and bounds, whether his opponent be man or creature. A goblin was no threat to his nasty disposition so he awaited the creature's cooperation, crossing his arms defensively over his puffed up chest for added measure.

"Identification," the teller offered in short, his tone of voice switching from monotone to clipped like a light switch. He slowly placed his feathered quill into its shiny, golden holder and eyed Severus down, his assessment measured and steely.

"Bloody fuckin' hell," Severus groused under his breath before exclaiming louder than he had meant to, "you know damn well who I am!"

Several customers, as well as other goblin tellers, directed their attention towards the unsettling commotion brewing down the line. A few bubbly gasps of "It's Severus Snape! The Severus Snape!" floated amongst the ogling crowd of onlookers.

Unenthused, the goblin beseeched calmly, "Mr Snape, it is standard procedure to present your—"

"Yes, yes, fine!" he snapped, cheeks burning red. He burrowed his hand deep inside the coat pocket of his robes to retrieve the key to his vault, as well as his wand which he had had since the tender age of ten.

The goblin took his time thoroughly examining each item. Severus understood that the infuriating dunce was testing his self-restraint, purposely daring him to cause a scene in the middle of the bank. Severus glared the goblin down as best as he could, unintimidated and trying to remain self-assured—at least, visibly.

"Ah, yes," the teller, at last, validated, handing Severus back his wand but not his key; he snapped his misshapen fingers together and it disappeared, a fresh roll of parchment unfurling in its stead, "one hundred and twelve galleons and fourteen sickles."

Severus nodded. "I'll take—"

"No, Mr Snape," the goblin cut him off, "I'm afraid that's what you've overdrawn."

Severus stared, dumbfounded, his long expression betraying his collected exterior. "I beg your pardon?"

"That means that you've—"

"I know what 'overdrawn' means, you damned dunderhead!" he growled, bearing his teeth and flopping his hands on his hips.

The goblin inhaled a short breath. "Then we will need you to pay us one hundred and twelve galleons and fourteen sick—"

"I demand to know how this has happened!" He pointed a firm finger at the ground. He had never overdrawn on his account in all his ruddy life. The error must fall on the side of the bank.

"A collection fee from a…Kensington Care Home," the goblin began reading off of the parchment; Severus's anger deflated like air through a straw, "and a payment to one, Lucius Malfoy…"

Feeling small, and despising the condemning look over the teller was giving him, Severus asked, this time in a much feebler voice, "So, I can't close my vault, then?"

"You can…once you're back to zero, Mr Snape. See?" The goblin pointed to a gold weight scale on his desk and provided him with a sarcastic smile Severus supposed he deserved. "You're here," he explained simply, gesturing towards the lower scale and adding more coins to it one by one so that the scale tipped into balance, "and you must come back to here."

It took all of Severus's composure not to aim his wand at the goblin's parrot-faced snout and blast it clear off of his rubbery, no-good face. "Noted," he gritted, withdrawing step by step in a gradual backward procession, staring the teller down as he slithered away.

The crowd gathering nearby dispersed in a nervous shuffle to the wizard's right and left, providing him plenty of wide berth to move. Severus spun around, his robes billowing dramatically at his ankles, and stalked out of the grand entryway of Gringotts and onto the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. There was only one place he might go to take the edge off and, thus, Severus Apparated to that location at all speed.


A/N (cont.): Available to read in its entirety at crmediagal (dot]com...