perverse-idyll (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
perverse-idyll.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2009-06-28 05:07 pm
perverse-idyll.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2009-06-28 05:07 pm
Entry tags:
The Courtship of Benjamin Jink by atdelphi (NC-17)
Fandom: HARRY POTTER
Pairing: Horace Slughorn/Severus Snape
Length: 9,980
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
atdelphi
Author Website: Singing the Body Electric
Why this must be read:
This is the second fic I mentioned in an earlier rec, a fic that left me rhapsodizing up one side and down the other in readerly delight. Delphi's written an extraordinary portrait here, just ravishing and perfect, of Horace Slughorn, a character I admit to not caring two pins about - until I read this. The charm, the old-world manners, the moral slipperiness, the concisely chiseled observations, the bonhomie and tincture of loneliness - it's an unbelievably good incarnation of a character who's virtually a clown in the original canon. Delphi rescues him from the realm of farce and conjures up his Edwardian background, his Slytherin acuity and stratagems, awards him his courtliness and his pedophile tendencies, and then sets him upon Severus' trail.
The fic is a chess game of identities, and Slughorn's POV is mellow, aphoristic, sharp-eyed, and unwavering. He's surprisingly good company and no fool; his interest in Benjamin Jink is both warm-hearted and predatory, and the tease and tension of the narrative are deepened by Horace's reflections upon the past, little hints of melancholy and self-justification, as he ponders the ways in which he failed one particular Slytherin student. In the end this is a hopeful story, partly because Slughorn is an optimist at heart. But Delphi's insights into Snape are just as delicately wrought and oddly heartbreaking. It's a fic that casts a spell, breathes the air of another time, and creates two indelible characters. It gets as close to perfection as any fic I've ever read, and it accomplishes this small miracle quietly, without excess. I know it's not the sort of pairing that appeals to most readers; I'd say set the pairing aside and enjoy the cultivated wit and emotional subtlety and uncanny ventriloquism of this writer.
And then go read more of her work. *g*
~~~
On the third morning, he spied the young man in the street. It was a quarter to nine and he had almost given up hope when a swiftly striding figure in black caught his eye. Mr. Jink was apparently forgoing his morning coffee once more, hurrying down the sidewalk with his head down. Horace abandoned the last bite of his croissant and hastened after him. He was not built for sprinting, but with a few good lopes managed to catch up with the young man at the corner.
"Mr. Jink - pardon, me, Mr. Jink?"
The young man froze in his tracks. Horace saw his shoulders stiffen before he very slowly turned around.
"Yes?" His voice could support icicles.
Horace offered his hand, determined not to acknowledge his own lack of protocol. This was North America, after all. "We haven't been formally introduced, I know. I'm certain you don't remember me..."
The young man glanced down at his hand but did not take it. "I saw you at the coffee shop the other day. You had powdered sugar on your robes and looked like you were having a stroke."
Never let it be said he took himself too seriously. He chuckled, and surreptitiously checked his front for crumbs. "Horace Slughorn. Fully recovered."
"Benjamin Jink. Late for work." He began to cross the street.
Horace fell into step with him. "What is it you do, Mr. Jink?"
Benjamin - that suited him very well, Benjamin - gave him a wary look. "I'm with W.G. Moss. Look, Mister...Slugworth, was it...?"
"Slughorn," Horace politely corrected.
"Mr. Slughorn, if you don't mind, I have a busy day ahead of me. So if you'd care to skip to the part where you tell me what you're selling or how you lost your train ticket to Moose Jaw to visit your dying cousin thrice removed, I can tell you to bugger off that much sooner and we can both be on our respective ways."
There was that feeling again, a stinging, singing cut. Good God, he even sounded a little like him, an actor mimicking familiar lines. He hesitated just for a moment, and the young man turned and began to walk away.
"Wait! Forgive me - honestly, what a clod I am today - but might I take you to lunch?"
Benjamin halted. He looked Horace over, raising an eyebrow, and responded very slowly: "I believe what you're looking for is a place called The Handlebar. It's over on Satyr Lane."
Horace, still discombobulated, was nonetheless charmed. There was something very attractive about pertness. "I hope you'll forgive me for being forward. I collect interesting people, you see."
It was an unfortunate fact that eccentricity was not considered to be quite as delightful on this side of the pond. "And why should I care to be 'collected' by some lunatic I've met in the street?"
He caught the insincere note in Benjamin's voice, however, and knew he had hooked him. Truly interesting people, in his experience, secretly wanted to be reassured that they were in fact interesting and not - as the rest of the world might have decided - misanthropic bastards.
~~~
The Courtship of Benjamin Jink
Pairing: Horace Slughorn/Severus Snape
Length: 9,980
Author on LJ:
atdelphiAuthor Website: Singing the Body Electric
Why this must be read:
This is the second fic I mentioned in an earlier rec, a fic that left me rhapsodizing up one side and down the other in readerly delight. Delphi's written an extraordinary portrait here, just ravishing and perfect, of Horace Slughorn, a character I admit to not caring two pins about - until I read this. The charm, the old-world manners, the moral slipperiness, the concisely chiseled observations, the bonhomie and tincture of loneliness - it's an unbelievably good incarnation of a character who's virtually a clown in the original canon. Delphi rescues him from the realm of farce and conjures up his Edwardian background, his Slytherin acuity and stratagems, awards him his courtliness and his pedophile tendencies, and then sets him upon Severus' trail.
The fic is a chess game of identities, and Slughorn's POV is mellow, aphoristic, sharp-eyed, and unwavering. He's surprisingly good company and no fool; his interest in Benjamin Jink is both warm-hearted and predatory, and the tease and tension of the narrative are deepened by Horace's reflections upon the past, little hints of melancholy and self-justification, as he ponders the ways in which he failed one particular Slytherin student. In the end this is a hopeful story, partly because Slughorn is an optimist at heart. But Delphi's insights into Snape are just as delicately wrought and oddly heartbreaking. It's a fic that casts a spell, breathes the air of another time, and creates two indelible characters. It gets as close to perfection as any fic I've ever read, and it accomplishes this small miracle quietly, without excess. I know it's not the sort of pairing that appeals to most readers; I'd say set the pairing aside and enjoy the cultivated wit and emotional subtlety and uncanny ventriloquism of this writer.
And then go read more of her work. *g*
~~~
On the third morning, he spied the young man in the street. It was a quarter to nine and he had almost given up hope when a swiftly striding figure in black caught his eye. Mr. Jink was apparently forgoing his morning coffee once more, hurrying down the sidewalk with his head down. Horace abandoned the last bite of his croissant and hastened after him. He was not built for sprinting, but with a few good lopes managed to catch up with the young man at the corner.
"Mr. Jink - pardon, me, Mr. Jink?"
The young man froze in his tracks. Horace saw his shoulders stiffen before he very slowly turned around.
"Yes?" His voice could support icicles.
Horace offered his hand, determined not to acknowledge his own lack of protocol. This was North America, after all. "We haven't been formally introduced, I know. I'm certain you don't remember me..."
The young man glanced down at his hand but did not take it. "I saw you at the coffee shop the other day. You had powdered sugar on your robes and looked like you were having a stroke."
Never let it be said he took himself too seriously. He chuckled, and surreptitiously checked his front for crumbs. "Horace Slughorn. Fully recovered."
"Benjamin Jink. Late for work." He began to cross the street.
Horace fell into step with him. "What is it you do, Mr. Jink?"
Benjamin - that suited him very well, Benjamin - gave him a wary look. "I'm with W.G. Moss. Look, Mister...Slugworth, was it...?"
"Slughorn," Horace politely corrected.
"Mr. Slughorn, if you don't mind, I have a busy day ahead of me. So if you'd care to skip to the part where you tell me what you're selling or how you lost your train ticket to Moose Jaw to visit your dying cousin thrice removed, I can tell you to bugger off that much sooner and we can both be on our respective ways."
There was that feeling again, a stinging, singing cut. Good God, he even sounded a little like him, an actor mimicking familiar lines. He hesitated just for a moment, and the young man turned and began to walk away.
"Wait! Forgive me - honestly, what a clod I am today - but might I take you to lunch?"
Benjamin halted. He looked Horace over, raising an eyebrow, and responded very slowly: "I believe what you're looking for is a place called The Handlebar. It's over on Satyr Lane."
Horace, still discombobulated, was nonetheless charmed. There was something very attractive about pertness. "I hope you'll forgive me for being forward. I collect interesting people, you see."
It was an unfortunate fact that eccentricity was not considered to be quite as delightful on this side of the pond. "And why should I care to be 'collected' by some lunatic I've met in the street?"
He caught the insincere note in Benjamin's voice, however, and knew he had hooked him. Truly interesting people, in his experience, secretly wanted to be reassured that they were in fact interesting and not - as the rest of the world might have decided - misanthropic bastards.
~~~
The Courtship of Benjamin Jink
no subject
no subject