Title: Beggars to God

Author: sevs_lil_secret

Rating: PG13
Feedback address: sevs_lil_secret@yahoo.com

Summary: Severus Snape readies to retrieve the newest player to his band.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters belong to JK Rowling. No money was made nor any animals harmed while writing this bit of fiction.
Archive: D2D website: http://www.kardasi.com/HPSS/storyindex.htm

Warnings: AU, OOC, No Magic. Language. Endangered farm animals and Irish countryside.
Beta reader: unbroken_halo

Challenge: Not Here, Not Now. No Magic?

Author's Notes: The songs that are found within are as follows: Kiss My Irish Ass~ a drinking song; Minstrel Boy~ a traditional song from the 1700's; Foggy Dew~ was written by a priest during the Easter Uprising; the title, Beggars to God is also a traditional song found in Ireland.

I made Severus Irish for this one…don't ask me why, it just felt right.

Beggars to God

The telephone in the two room flat rang four times before the lanky limbed man found the blasted thing hiding under a pile of laundry in the corner.

“Yeah?” he answered sleepily, having been waked from a deep slumber; glancing at the clock he saw it was three in the afternoon. Still too bloody early. “Who's this?”

After a few moments of listening to a shrill female voice, he wandered into the small kitchen area, and turned on his hot plate for the kettle. He really needed caffeine to deal with Caoimhe screeching like a bleedin' banshee in his ear. “No, I didn't tell him to piss off…exactly. He never showed for the bloody gigs, Caoimhe, was I supposed to just let him get away with it, now?”

He listened to her nattering on about the loss of their guitar player for a few more minutes, dragging the phone to the loo with him to piss and wash his face. “Will ya shut up, ya daft bint!” he shouted into the phone after another shrill tirade. “You woke me up with this shit! No, I'm not in a pleasant mood!”

He fixed his tea, and rummaged through his cupboards for something to go with it, and growled when he realized he'd not been to market in a few days. “Alright, I'll fetch the new lad, but can you feed me? I've no' but tea here, and something that might have been cheese some time ago,” he muttered as he eyed a small cellophane wrapped chunk sitting in the small refrigerator. He wrote down an address, and hung the phone up as he set his tea to steep, and climbed into the shower.

Severus Snape was part of the small band Tripoli that toured Ireland's pubs playing the old and traditional music for small but loyal crowds. As well as being the bodhran player for Tripoli, he also sat in and did session work there in Dublin for different artists. It wasn't glamorous, but it kept him a place to live, and a bit of food. His parents had fervently hoped Severus would have gone to sea like his Da, but he hated fish, and the sea made him puke worse than a weeklong bender. He was also the hard arse of the group, and the others left it to him to sack someone if they needed it, and well, Padhriag had definitely needed it.

He dug through the heap of laundry, reasonably certain that the pile was clean, well clean enough for what he had to do anyway. Pulling out a pair of denims and a mended dark green jumper, he dressed and stuffed his narrow feet into his boots. Pouring his tea into a mug with a lid, he scooped his keys out of the dish on the counter, and left his flat, locking the door behind him.

On the street, he fussed with the door to the ancient Cooper he'd inherited from his older brother, and finally got the damnable thing to open with a loud screech that was accompanied by a few odd looks from passers-by. “Yeah yeah, piss off, the lot of you,” Severus muttered as he folded his long body into the small car, and said a small prayer that it would start today. The little auto started with a grinding of gears, and much cursing, but start it did. He pulled it out onto the narrow cobblestone street, slid a cd of Great Big Sea into his stereo, and turned it up.

People knew the small rust and blue car well, and many dodged out of its way as Severus came tearing through the narrow back streets of Dublin. The lanky man was oblivious to the evil glares and nasty shouts he got as he flew past them, one eye on the road ahead, and the other trying to follow the directions. Muttering and scowling, he realized he couldn't read his own scratchings. In anger, he balled the directions up in his hand, and pitched them out of the window at a cat. “Fecking guitar player,” he muttered as he careened down a one way street, and peered up at a street sign.

He wedged the tiny car into a space between two lorries, and slid over the bonnet to avoid a deliveryman with a hand truck loaded with ale for the pub he was parked in front of. “Hey! Harry Potter, you live up there?” he yelled from the sidewalk as he tipped his head back, and looked at the open windows on the first floor over the pub. A patron gave Severus a dirty look and shook his head as he opened the door to go in the dark tavern.

“Why don't you go in and ask for the lad? He's right in tending bar, ya great lump,” the old man growled as he nodded at a small man behind the bar. Severus shrugged, figuring a pint would be a good way to start his day, and followed the old man into the smoky room. He squinted and rubbed at his eyes for a moment until he was able to make out the young man behind the bar pulling a pint for a duffer that looked as though he'd taken root on the wooden stool.

Severus made his way to the bar, settled on a stool, and waited for the young man to come over. While he waited, he took in the sight of the lad working. Short, bloody hell he was short; hair near as black as his own, but short and unkempt; not a bad looking bloke, green eyes, glasses, and all that. He figured from the look of him, everyone in the band would be having a go at getting his trousers off before long.

Harry Potter worked behind the bar at the Strangled Goose pulling pints for his godfather. It didn't bother the twenty-one year old much, and it gave him spending money when he needed it. He had called the day before on a gig as a guitarist for a small traditional Irish musical group he'd found in one of the local papers. The woman he'd talked to, Caoimhe he thought it was, had sounded impressed that he was just out of uni with a degree in classical music, though she'd warned him of one of the members, a founding member actually, that may take the piss out of him for it.

She'd warned him about Severus Snape possibly being one of the most antisocial birks he'd ever meet, but he was brilliant in a scary, idiot savant way; and then she'd laughed, and told him he'd see for himself. He wasn't looking forward to the meeting, he thought.

“Can I get you something?” Harry asked of the gaunt looking man that had just settled in at the far end of the bar with the attitude that he owned the bloody place. He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and stared at the hawk nosed man and smirked as he noticed the man was staring back. “Do I know you?”

Severus stared gobsmacked at the young man when he opened his mouth. He closed his mouth with a snap, saints above; the boy was bloody posh ponce. What in the devil had Caoimhe been thinking when she had told this boy he could play in their band? It was an Irish band, there was no room for bloody Brit. Severus snorted and shook his head. "So you're Harry Potter? The musical genius that's supposed to save Tripoli from a certain demise." The lanky man just shook his head and muttered to himself about the stupidity of certain women.

Harry stared at the haphazardly dressed man. His lanky hair moved in clumps as he shook his head at the young man behind the bar. Harry sniffed and adjusted his spectacles. "Yes. I wouldn't go as far as to say genius, but I am classically trained. I have my degree from University." He eyed the other man with some disdain. "I presume you are Severus Snape."

Severus raised one eyebrow and looked at the young man again. "Aye, that I would be. Now make yourself useful and pull me a pint." With that Severus turned his back and dismissed the boy, he dug in his pocket for change enough to call and let Caoimhe know that there was no way he could work with this kid. He looked around and glanced towards the back of the pub, looking for the phone, not seeing that he turned back and looked at Harry. "Where is the phone? I have to make a phone call and let her know that we need to keep looking for a replacement, because I don't think you're going to fit in."

Harry blinked at the other man. "Oh really? Well I am sorry to inform you of this mate but I have already spoken to Caoimhe and she thinks I'll be just dandy." He pulled the pint and slammed it on the counter. "There, that'll be five quid."

Severus raised his eyebrow again. "Five quid? For that? What, the Queen Herself squat over it?" He pulled a crumpled note out of his pocket and tossed it to the young man. "So, you called her, eh? What makes you so sure you can play our music, lad? Seems to me, you not long off the tit and if you are, it's with a silver spoon in yer mouth."

He picked up the glass and took a long swallow, closing his eyes and thanking the saints that looked over the man that created stout, setting the glass back down, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and fixed young Harry with a stony glare. "So are you coming with?"

Harry made change and pocketed the rest. "T'was only 3 for the stout the rest was tip. Our music as you call it is classical. I didn't call her she's the one that contacted me to warn of you." Harry glared at him and reached below the bar. He slung his guitar case and a pack over his shoulder. "To steal a phrase. Aye, I am coming with." he grabbed hold of the bar and vaulted over it. He looked at the black haired man. "Well you are the taxi, are we leaving?"

Severus drained the glass and set it down with a glare. "Shirty bastard, aren't you?" He looked down at the tousled headed man and smirked. "I hope you can play as well as you can give cheek," he said as he nodded to the door. "Let's go then, stow your gear in the back seat.... And pray," he smirked as he watched Harry stand in the open doorway and look out onto the street in confusion.

Harry spied the small little car that looked about ready to fall apart. One good rain and the rest of the frame would rust away. "You came in that?" He looked up at the tall man. He snorted again. "You've more bollocks than brains." he watched the other man fold himself into the Cooper and shook his head. "God save my arse." he stowed the guitar and pack and then climbed in.

Severus narrowed his eyes at the words. Look down on an honest, hard working man, would the little blighter? He put the key in the ignition and reached for the rosary his Mam had forced him to loop over the rear view mirror. He wound the strand of Holy beads through his tapered fingers and began to mumble under his breath, his eyes closed, one slitted open enough to gauge Harry's reaction.

Fighting back the urge to laugh, he made his mock prayers and finished in an elaborate genuflection, well as elaborate as he could make it without getting out and kneeling. "And may all the Saints preserve us, even the swotty ponce sitting next to me," he finished and then rehung the rosary.

The car started under protest and loud cursing, but soon Severus had whipped it out in front of another delivery lorry and the music blaring as he sped through the streets.

"Bloody Hell!" Harry exclaimed. He closed his eyes as the delivery truck came right at them, horn blaring. He clung to the dashboard and glared at Snape. "Are you daft man? One pint knackered you that bad." He closed his eyes and groaned. "Blimey I think I am going to be ill." He covered his mouth as Snape took the corner on two wheels and a little old dear gave them the two-finger salute as they flew past.

Severus grinned like a pouka and leaned on the horn as he flew through an intersection and cut off another car as he merged into traffic. "So rich boy, what are you doing tending bar? Shouldn't you be playing for the London symphony or some swotty bunch of arseholes?" Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Harry tried to fasten the safety belt, frantically searching for the life saving piece of webbing. "You won't be findin' them, I cut them out. Needed something to tie the bonnet shut, you know." He smirked as Harry turned greener and he accelerated more. "Do you know where the hell we're goin'?"

Harry shook his head and decided that having his eyes closed was no better than having them open. It was frightening all the same. The worse Snape drove the rougher his language got. "Blimey, mate. How can you drive this thing and not know the bloody way to the practice session?" He took a deep breath and looked at the other man.

Severus threw his head back and laughed. "Practice session? What the fecking hell are you on about? We've a gig tonight," he took his eyes from the road and looked at the shocked _expression on his passenger's face. "She dinna tell you, did she?"

Harry choked. "A gig?!? Cor, I am gonna kill the bint.” He looked at Snape. "Bloody Hell get your eyes back on the road before you make us blacktop."

Severus took one hand from the wheel and jabbed a long finger into Harry's ribs. "Aye, no one calls her a bint but me, got it?" he asked as all traces of mirth left his voice. "She's a fine Irish lady and you'll be treating her with respect, yeah?" He turned his attention back to the road and dodged a chuckhole big enough for the ancient Cooper to fall into.

"We're playing in Tullamore tonight and tomorrow night, so we'll be kippin' above the pub," he said as he shifted in the seat and wedged the wheel between his knees to fish his cigarettes out of his pocket and light one. "Did Caoimhe give you a list of what we play?" he asked as they left the city proper and headed west into the countryside.

Harry eyed the long finger. "Oi, now none of that mess, alright mate. Course she's a fine bird and I tell you that she seemed a right fine lass when I spoke to her." He coughed as the cigarette smoke drifted his way. "No. But I am a quick study. That's why I thought we were headed to a rehearsal."

Severus shook his head. “No, we only rehearse when we have new material. Caoimhe told me you knew the set. Have you even heard what we do?” he asked as he leaned over and dug about on the floorboards for a cd of Tripoli's music. He pushed the disc into the stereo and turned it up. “This is pretty much what we are playing tonight, yeah.”

Harry listened intently, his eyes closed and his fingers moving as he went through the chords and memorized them, his lips mouthing the words silently. Severus began to sing softly to one of the songs and Harry looked up at him. “That's you on the cd, isn't it?” he asked as he listened intently.

Severus nodded and continued to sing.

“…Oh the nuns and the priests they grabbed their rosaries and pulled our bodies apart…”

His fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he bobbed his head to the music.

“...We're as stubborn as mules with our blood on fire, when we ain't at Sunday mass. We'll look any man straight in his eyes and say kiss my Irish ass….”

Harry listened and then reached out to shut the music off. “What else do you do besides vocals?” he asked, having been impressed by the clear baritone voice. It was obvious the man driving wasn't just a pub band rowdy.

“I play the bodhran, pennywhistle, and the uillean pipes on occasion for the band, but I do play other instruments when I do session work,” Severus replied as he pulled the little car into a petrol station and shoved the door open. He left Harry sitting as he ran inside and came back a few moments later with a couple of sandwiches and soft drinks, tossing a sandwich and drink to the younger man as he climbed back in the car.

“We're eating from a petrol station?” Harry asked as he gingerly unwrapped the sandwich and looked askance at the other man. Severus shook his head in disgust and took the sandwich back.

“You've not played in a pub band before, have you?” he asked as he took a huge bite of his and pulled the auto back onto the road and resumed his breakneck speed through the countryside. “At least they made the sandwich there instead of it being vended. You can't always count on eating where we play.”

“I'll eat it, I was just…surprised and yes this will be the first band I've played with. Is that a problem for you?” Harry asked as he took his little meal back and tucked in.

“Why aren't you playing for some symphony or teaching some rich brats?” Severus smirked as he watched the young man's discomfort. They crested a small hill and the black haired man at the wheel expertly steered between a few errant sheep and around an old farmer who shook his staff at the flying Cooper.

“Don't you believe in any other speed other than breakneck?” Potter squeaked as he dropped his sandwich in his lap and grabbed for the dash as he was slung around in his seat. Severus only laughed and gave the little car more gas. “Slow the bloody thing down or I'll feckin' vomit all over you!” Harry yelled as he fell against the bony frame of his companion.

Harry felt the sinewy muscles under the jumper and the heat that came off Snape's body for the short time he was pressed against him then he was flung back to the other side of the car. He decided that if the man fucked like he drove it might just be a wild ride and one he wouldn't soon forget. He blinked and picked up the smashed sandwich and rewrapped it. He hadn't been kidding when he told Snape he would sick up all over the place.

"I was invited to play with London's Philharmonic. However the First Chair and I had..." Harry smirked. "Artistic differences and I wasn't taken on. The man sucked dog's bollocks and I informed him of this. The conductor wasn't happy with me either so I came here to my godfather's place for a cool down."

Harry eyed Snape as they dodged a cow this time and skirted a low stone wall. "Not teaching material either. Can you imagine the look on the mum and da's faces when I told them their lil' sprog was an idiot?" Harry laughed.

Severus snorted and glanced once more at Harry. "Look, I know you aren't a local, and the rest of the band will know it as soon as you open your gob. So no offence Potter, but don't try to be one of us, you aren't. If you can play like you complain, we'll forgive you for not bein' born on the proper soil," he laughed. He did however slow the tiny auto down a bit and gave his passenger a chance to collect himself. "Are you nervous?"

They passed a few young men on bicycles and Severus nearly broke his neck as he craned about to watch their bums encased in bike shorts. He caught what he was doing and quickly set his eyes to the road again, before risking a sideways glance to the young man in the other seat.

Harry had been watching the cyclists as well. "Eh?" He caught Snape's eyed and blushed. "A bit but I think that once I start playing I will be fine." He ignored the insult to his Mother Country. "How much longer until we are there?" Now that Snape had slowed down some he remembered himself and sighed.

"Not far, Tullamore is over the hill there," Severus answered as he jabbed one long finger at a hilltop in the near distance. "So what do you play besides guitar? Maybe we can find more than one use for you."

A few minutes later they were cresting the low hill and the small town of Tullamore was spread out before them. "We're playing at the Harp, which is there," he said pointing to what looked to be a newer two story building next to the library as he drove past and turned the corner to find the small alleyway that would lead him to the back entrance.

Harry nodded and eyed the place. "If it has strings, I can make it sing. My mum made sure that I had all the education I could get. But I am partial to the guitar and the violin." He scooted out of the death trap as soon as Snape had braked. He retrieved his pack and instrument and waited on Snape to pry himself from the Cooper.

Severus pulled a face and nodded, they may yet have a good use for the posh lad. "You wouldn't be adverse to playing something other than guitar for us, would you? Do you play the harp?" he asked as he grabbed his own bag, which had permanent residence in the back seat and the carrying cases for his two bodhrans.

He led the way into the back of the pub and up a narrow flight of dimly lit stairs to an open door. He sat his gear down on the mattress on the floor and looked at Harry. "Sorry mate, but you'll have to bunk with me. Donavon sleeps with his wife, that'll be Bridget, and Caoimhe shares with Keely," he explained as he shrugged his narrow shoulders. "There's also a little hotel where you can hire a room for the night if you are so inclined."

Harry watched the muscles play under Snape's jeans. No, he didn't mind sharing at all. "I've no problems sharing unless you don't want me there." He set his pack next to Snape's on the bed and looked up at him. "I'll try the harp out now if you have one available. I need to tune up my guitar as well."

"Nah, I dinna bring it with, we've not had anyone that could play it in a while now," Severus replied as he took his beater and began a rapid tattoo to limber up his long fingers. "You've played reels, yeah?"

He budged over on the bed to give Harry more room, nodding in approval as the younger man began to play softly.

Harry nodded and began to pick out a tune. He had really enjoyed this song the last time he heard it. His fingers were precise and the guitar sang in his hands before he started on the opening lines of the song in his clear sweet tenor. His eyes closed and he lost himself in the music, foot tapping to keep his rhythm.

"The minstrel boy to the war is gone,

In the ranks of death you'll find him;

His father's sword he hath girded on,

And his wild harp slung behind him;"

"Land of Song!" cried the warrior bard,

"Tho' all the world betrays thee,

One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,

One faithful harp shall praise thee!"

He played a bridge before singing again and finishing out the song.

"The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's steel

Could not bring that proud soul under;

The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again,

For he tore its chords asunder;"

"And said "No chains shall sully thee,

Thou soul of love and brav'ry!

Thy songs were made for the pure and free

They shall never sound in slavery!"

Harry opened his eyes and looked at Snape. "Will that do for you?" he asked softly.

Severus looked thoughtful for a moment. "So you can sing too," he said and nodded. "You play good, Harry, but I'll warn you now, when we go North, you need to stay close to either me or Donavon and keep your mouth shut, yeah?"

He began to sing 'Foggy Dew' softly, his black eyes closed and his heart pouring into the words.

"..Right proudly high over Dublin Town they hung out the flag of war. 'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky than at Sulva or Sud El Bar, and from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through while Britannia's Huns, with their long range guns sailed in through the foggy dew...."

He opened his black eyes and fixed Harry with a solemn look. "Do you understand what I'm saying, Harry, you stick close if we tell you to."

Harry nodded. He stared into the intense black eyes. A clapping sound startled them both and Harry saw a woman standing there; he assumed it was Caoimhe. He stood and gave a small bow. "Madame Caoimhe, I presume?" He took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently.

"No lad, I'm Bridget, you must be our little prodigy, yeah?" she asked with a smile as she came further into the room and dropped next to Severus. "So did Sevvie's driving scar you for life?" She laughed as the lanky limbed man scowled at her. "Go on with you, Sev, you know you love me passionately."

Severus wrinkled his nose and looked at her. "Bridie love, although I love you madly, I'd sooner kiss a goat than a woman," he chuckled and wrapped a long arm around her shoulders. "I think Harry'll do, he's some talent under all that posh, yeah?"

Harry rolled his eyes at Snape. "I nearly needed new clothes ma'am, but I survived. Although..." He grinned at Snape. "Think I'll add some safety belts if I'm to be taxi-ing with him often."

Harry turned to Bridget. "Pleasure ma'am. Do you play?"

"I play the flute and spoons, Harry. I've ridden with him a time or two as well. Can you imagine he's never had smash up?" she asked as she pushed herself to her feet with aid from Severus. "I'm going to go find out if we're being fed or if Seamus thinks a cot is enough for the likes of traveling gypsies." She bent down and bussed Sev's cheek and then leaned over to do the same with Harry. "It's nice to meet you, love. Don't let him scare you off."

Severus growled good-naturedly and swatted at her bum as she turned to go. "Go on with you, go annoy your husband. If you find food, let us know." The door closed after her and he turned to look at Harry. "Are you tired? We've a few hours before we play."

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Excited now. Will the rest of the players be arriving soon? I 'd like to meet them all." He eyed Severus. "Shall I let you be to rest?"

Severus got his legs under him and picked up his flat drums. "I'll sleep when I'm dead. Let's go down and see everyone. Bring your piece and we'll get some work in before the pub gets crowded," he said as he opened the door, turning back to look at Harry. "Just so you know and don't hear it from the others...I'm queer, but I'm not going to molest you in your sleep." He turned back and left the stunned Harry staring after him.

Severus had had a few experiences with band members that had taken offense to having to bunk with the long limbed musician, so anymore, he was just upfront about it and let the explosion happen when he was awake enough to dodge a fist.

Harry pinked. "Not a problem," Harry whispered to himself. "Not a problem at all." He watched the tall man's backside, picked up his guitar and followed.

Once downstairs, Severus introduced him to the others, smirking at Harry's shocked face when he introduced Donavon. "Aye, we're twins, he's the old one," he quipped as the nearly identical man stuck his hand out to Harry. Not ten minutes later, the small group were launching into the first songs on the play list and showing Harry the subtle changes Severus had written into the music to make the flow a bit better to the ear.

Caoimhe stood by Harry and nodded. "Our Sevvie's quite good himself, you know. I hope he didn't give you too hard of a time; I should have gone with him to get you. I hope that despite his lovely disposition, you'll give us a go," she said softly as Severus and Donavon began to spat over which order the songs should go in that night.

Harry eyed the two men and shook his head. Twins. Bloody Hell. "No, ma'am, he was fine if snarly. I can give as good as I get. Keeps things interesting." He dragged his eyes off Snape and smiled brilliantly at her. "I'd love to stay and play with you all, if you'd keep me."

Severus looked up and grunted. "If I'd not meant to keep you, I'd have left you back at the pub. Start playing," he smiled and began to beat out the rhythm and the others fell in quickly.

Harry grinned and picked up his guitar. He strummed himself into the song and watched Snape. The man came alive when he played and the smile was killer. Harry decided right then and there that Snape... Severus was someone he would like to know better, in every sense of the word.

The End