In The Presence of Greatness
May. 15th, 2014 10:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teddy_radiatorThe astonishing authors over at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hp_beholder have done it again. As you know, Snape slash isn't my favourite thing, but there are pairings that just make perfect sense to me. hp_beholder had a glory of riches with a pairing that has become a favourite - Severus/Aberforth Dumbledore. That seems to be the pair of the fest, and the stories were all so good, but this latest has simply blown everything out of the water. Elegy For A Goat is simply one of the finest pieces of descriptive writing I've ever read. It isn't terribly explicit, so non-slashers won't find that part of it off putting, but in any case, if you appreciate a beautiful story, you simply must read it regardless.
It is told in Aberforth's POV, and the prose is so pitch-perfect you can hear his gruff voice speaking it aloud. Each turn of phrase, each gimlet-eyed observation, each chainsaw-carved emotion is riveting and beautiful. Snape is perfectly rendered as well. Every detail, from his potions-stained fingers to his bone-dry, self-conscious furtiveness, paints a picture of an angry young man with hidden shallows.
The real puppet-master is Albus, whom Ab loves but still holds in contempt for so many reasons (he calls Severus Albus' 'bit of dirt'), yet still gets him wrong in the end. And between the brothers is this doomed man-boy. The ending, when Severus literally reveals himself without any sneering, sarcasm or paranoia, will break your heart.
I cannot tell you eloquently enough how much I loved this story. I'm still reeling from the power of it. Please go and read this masterpiece.
Ab leaned on the counter and hardened his stare. He knew damn well he had the accusing eyes of a Dumbledore who'd lost his way in the dark wood, a wild man's stare that saw fault in everything. After a moment, Albus' bit of dirt looked past him to the wall of dingy bottles and shrugged. Under the tallow candles that smelled of cooking fat, a shadow of exhaustion stained his sallow face, rising from the same burned-down coals as the dark thing Ab had poked out of hiding.
"Professor Severus Snape," he muttered, defending his right to the title, and Aberforth knew to his bones: this one wasn't destined to die of old age. It was almost as stark as spotting a Grim, the startling flash when divination saw true.
He offered the boy nothing in return, not even a hand to shake.
hp_beholder have done it again. As you know, Snape slash isn't my favourite thing, but there are pairings that just make perfect sense to me. hp_beholder had a glory of riches with a pairing that has become a favourite - Severus/Aberforth Dumbledore. That seems to be the pair of the fest, and the stories were all so good, but this latest has simply blown everything out of the water. Elegy For A Goat is simply one of the finest pieces of descriptive writing I've ever read. It isn't terribly explicit, so non-slashers won't find that part of it off putting, but in any case, if you appreciate a beautiful story, you simply must read it regardless.It is told in Aberforth's POV, and the prose is so pitch-perfect you can hear his gruff voice speaking it aloud. Each turn of phrase, each gimlet-eyed observation, each chainsaw-carved emotion is riveting and beautiful. Snape is perfectly rendered as well. Every detail, from his potions-stained fingers to his bone-dry, self-conscious furtiveness, paints a picture of an angry young man with hidden shallows.
The real puppet-master is Albus, whom Ab loves but still holds in contempt for so many reasons (he calls Severus Albus' 'bit of dirt'), yet still gets him wrong in the end. And between the brothers is this doomed man-boy. The ending, when Severus literally reveals himself without any sneering, sarcasm or paranoia, will break your heart.
I cannot tell you eloquently enough how much I loved this story. I'm still reeling from the power of it. Please go and read this masterpiece.
Ab leaned on the counter and hardened his stare. He knew damn well he had the accusing eyes of a Dumbledore who'd lost his way in the dark wood, a wild man's stare that saw fault in everything. After a moment, Albus' bit of dirt looked past him to the wall of dingy bottles and shrugged. Under the tallow candles that smelled of cooking fat, a shadow of exhaustion stained his sallow face, rising from the same burned-down coals as the dark thing Ab had poked out of hiding.
"Professor Severus Snape," he muttered, defending his right to the title, and Aberforth knew to his bones: this one wasn't destined to die of old age. It was almost as stark as spotting a Grim, the startling flash when divination saw true.
He offered the boy nothing in return, not even a hand to shake.
