Title: Some Things Are Better Off Left Alone
Author: Ivory Tower
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all Harry Potter characters and concepts.
Monday. Potions. A typical setting in Snape's classroom: gloomy, apprehensive, silent. Neville looked to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown; his essay on the various aspects of the Yew tree was a quarter of an inch too short. Hermione looked all too eager for her essay to be handed in and graded. Malfoy sat with his usual lounging ease, a devious smirk on his face as he whispered to Pansy and Crabbe.
The bell rang, and for the next few moments nothing happened. Belatedly, the door opened and in marched an out-of-breath Madam Pomfrey. Needless to say, she instantly had the students' undivided attentiveness.
"Professor Snape will not be in today or the rest of the week," she announced, halting before the class.
Even Ron sat up with interest upon hearing this.
"He has left a list of your assignments for the week," continued Madam Pomfrey.
"Is he on holiday," inquired Malfoy sarcastically.
"No, Mr. Malfoy, he is recovering in the hospital wing," Madam Pomfrey curtly replied.
Streams of questions were flung at the school nurse. "What happened?"; "Is he ill?" Professor *Snape's* in the *hospital* wing?"
"Enough! Here are your assignments." Madam Pomfrey laid a long sheet of parchment on Snape's desk. Parvati elbowed Lavender, who was still gaping at the announcement, and had failed to pick up her fallen gum from the table. Hermione raised her hand.
"Is...Professor Snape all right," she asked, unable to help her own curiosity of the incident.
Madam Pomfrey softened a tad. "He will be fine in a week or two," she answered, the dismissed the students back to their common rooms.
The dungeon buzzed with speculation as the students filed upstairs. Professor Snape absent from his usual post was shocking; his being in the hospital wing was nothing short of a phenomenon. The man was so cruel, callous, and concise he seemed immune to the vulnerability of the human body. At any rate, it must be something pretty bad to keep Snape in the hospital wing for an entire week or more.
"Maybe he botched a potion and blew his hands off," suggested Ron, quite happy at the turn of events.
"Ron! That isn't very nice," scolded Hermione. "Maybe Snape lost his voice from so much lecturing, and he's too ashamed to lose face in front of his students...then again, there's a potion to remedy that-"
"Or, he finally cleaned the dust off his mirror, took a good look at himself, and-"
"Ron, that's enough."
"Oh lighten up, Hermione. This is the best thing that's happened to us this year, and you're not even enjoying it."
"Well, I'd enjoy it better if I knew exactly what was wrong with Snape. I don't want to be mean about it. Why should I lower myself to his level?"
Every Gryffindor within hearing had a good laugh at this remark.
As the day progressed, rumors surrounding Snape's incapacitation escalated. Most of the students' speculations focused upon several potion catastrophes that varied in gruesome detail. One Hufflepuff suggested Snape had been in the Forbidden Forest gathering ingredients, and had been trampled by a phantom centaur. Several Ravenclaws swore the Potions Master had been accosted outside the Three Broomsticks, and beaten senseless by a mob of goblins, having been mistaken for a zombie who owed them several hundred Galleons. By dinner, three basic facts had been established:
1) Snape would probably be bed-ridden for a month because it took that long to regrow limbs.
2) Snape's sharp tongue was somehow responsible in the mystery of his invalid status.
3) Snape had thrown a regular tantrum when Dumbledore had appointed a substitute to teach the students, thus the free period that used to be Potions.
Indeed, the Slytherins were beginning to look more than a little worried by the mysterious absence of their Head of House. Dumbledore; however, looked perfectly at ease despite Snape's vacant seat. Then again, Dumbledore had remained calm when in had once rained indoors for three days. Didn't the professors understand that the vague statement: "Profesor Snape is recovering in the Hospital Wing" was equally as bad as not having any information concerning the Potion Master's absence?
Finally, the suspense could be borne no longer, and Colin Creevey was appointed to sneak into the Hospital Wing and get a picture of Snape. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan both agreed that selling pictures of Snape in pajamas instead of his usual black attire would reap in a tidy little profit. With these uncertain times everyone needed a good laugh. Excitement rose to its height when Colin agreed to take up the gauntlet armed with his trusty camera. Even the Slytherins gave their approval and a plan began to take shape.
Someone needed to divert Madam Pomfrey's attention while Colin snuck into the Hospital Wing to get a picture of Snape in his pajamas. Hannah Abbot was nominated for the task as she was studying to be a mediwitch, and could bombard Madam Pomfrey with questions while Colin searched the beds for Snape. All in all it was a brilliant plan except for one minute detail: no one had considered how Colin would get Snape's picture once he located the Potions Master. After all, Colin couldn't very well tell Snape to smile pretty and say "cheese". A sick or wounded Snape was equivalent to a sick or wounded bear. Somehow, in the grand scheme of things, it had been left to assumption that Snape would be asleep, and taking his picture would be of no consequence.
At eight-thirty that evening, Colin and Hannah snuck to the Hospital Wing and took their stations. While Madam Pomfrey's back was turned, Colin snuck, unnoticed, into the hospital wing. Exhilarated, Colin quickly scanned the beds until he found one with the curtains drawn. Unafraid, Colin ran over to the bed, got his camera ready, flung the curtains open, and-!
"What the hell do you want," yelled a very surprised Potions Professor, dropping his book.
Colin was so shocked he yelped. He also, seemingly by instinct, began taking pictures. His finger stuck on the button in his astonishment. Bewilderment soon contorted into annoyance, then outright anger at this rude interruption. Snape's black eyebrows furrowed dangerously as he scowled at Colin and the camera.
"Put down that blasted contraption this instant!"
With trembling hands, Colin did so. "Sir," he exclaimed, "I-I can't believe you're awake!" Then, Colin's brain registered what he was actually seeing. "Sir, I can't believe you're actually wearing pajamas!"
Snape's thin mouth grew thinner. "Did you expect me to be in dress robes, Mr. Creevey? A hundred points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable brat with an utter lack of respect for those who are ill!"
"Sir, exactly what *is* wrong with you? Everyone wants to know. I mean-"
Snape's black eyes narrowed. "So," he whispered calmly, "everyone's been talking behind my back, have they? Wanted to see what was ailing the Potions Master, did they? Are you disappointed to see that my face is still intact, Mr. Creevey?"
"Well, no, but some people were saying-"
"I know what they were saying, you twit," snarled Snape, very much resembling a deranged madman. "I know what everyone's been saying, or *hoping*, rather, what has happened to me. It amazes me how insufferably stupid you children think me to be! If you must know, Mr. Creevey, this is nothing more than the result of my own carelessness.
"In my hurry to finish a potion yesterday evening, I merely lost my footing and had a merry tumble down the stairs in my dungeon. My broken leg was quick enough to mend, but broken ribs are not, most unfortunately.
"And there you have it, Mr. Creevey. I was not mugged by vengeful banshees, or flattened in a bar brawl by drunken warlocks, or any other such nonsense! I fell down the stairs, cracked three ribs, and I am in considerable pain. On your way out kindly inform Madam Pomfrey that I am in need of another pain relieving potion. Also, you may spread the word that I expect, from every one of my students, an essay on the consequences of gossip and spying. I expect two rolls of parchment, and I expect them on my desk next Monday at the beginning of class, no exceptions. You are excused, Mr. Creevey."
Naturally, no one was thrilled with having extra work to do. Many swore that Snape would assign a reams worth of homework on his death bed. Eventually, someone remembered the photographs, the cause of all their sorrow. Colin hadn't had time to develop them in animation solution, but he passed them around anyway.
"Oh my gosh! Snape's in *white* pajamas," shrieked Pansy Parkinson, thoroughly scandalized in a deliciously amused fashion.
"All hospital pajamas are white," said Harry with a shrug, taking the photo passed to him.
Snape looked...odd. His shoulder length black hair was quite mused; he was quiet bleary-eyed, and he looked so...strange without his usual black garb. In a sense he didn't look like himself. He almost looked...non- threatening. Of course, this changed upon viewing the next few photos. Colin's quick camera work had captured Snape's evolving wrath beautifully.
"Uh, Colin, why did you keep on taking pictures with him looking at you like that," Harry wanted to know.
Hermione took the picture Harry was referring to and looked for herself. She jerked her head back as though the picture had yelled at her. In a sense, it had. The only other time Hermione had seen Professor Snape so enraged was when she and Harry had helped Sirius Black escape the Dementor's kiss. Only Snape could look so intimidating and evil in white. Hermione quickly tossed the picture to the next curious spectator.
Inevitably, the other professors caught on (or had been tipped off) as to what the students were up to. Professor McGonagall's rage would have made those pictures of Snape shirk had they been developed in animation solution.
"I have *never* been so disgusted by my students' behavior! To sneak up on a sick patient is inexcusable! I *thought* Gryffindors were more noble than to take advantage of a weak man recovering what could have been a fatal accident! Gossip is bad enough, but this is indescribable! There are no *words* to describe this lowly behavior! I expected better of you. All of you have insulted the House of Gryffindor and everything it stands for!"
Needless to say that by the end of McGonagall's lecture, even Ron felt like going to live with Moaning Myrtle in her toilet. The other Houses fared no better. Then Dumbledore got a hold of them, and that was the absolute worst. Harry would have been delighted to witness Draco Malfoy actually squirm in his seat, but Harry was too busy feeling like the dirt beneath dirt to gloat.
The simple truth was that they had been so enthralled in anticipating a freak show they hadn't stopped to consider Snape or his feelings, if he possessed any. They had taken it for granted that the man was incapable of feeling anything but anger, and while no one willingly wanted to invoke Snape's rage, they were at least used to it. Lavender was the first to lightly suggest that Snape may have been genuinely hurt by everyone *wanting* to see him in a deplorable state. Padma agreed that Snape brought it on himself to be treated like a leper, but even she agreed that Snape had never tried to get any of the students' hospital visits on film.
No, there was no way around the fact that they were severely in the wrong. Two days later, at lunch, Hermione made a face as she drank her pumpkin juice.
"Bug in your juice," asked Ron around a mouthful of chicken.
"No, but we really should apologize to Snape for what we did."
The same thing had occurred to Harry, but he wasn't too keen on the idea. He still hadn't recovered from the lectures Dumbledore and McGonagall had given them. Every time Harry thought of Snape, he shirked and wanted to crawl under a rock for the next month.
Ron frowned. "What makes you think Snape'll accept an apology from anyone but the Slytherins?"
"That doesn't matter," retorted Hermione. "It's the right thing to do."
"Maybe, but he'll still hold it against everyone for as long as they live."
"That doesn't *matter*, Ron. Honestly!"
"Fine lets all chip in and buy him a slab of chocolate from Honeydukes."
Harry looked up from cutting his steak. "Does Snape even like chocolate? I've never seen him eat candy."
"A bottle of wine, then."
"Ron! This is serious."
"So am I. Get the guy drunk and he'll forgive us all. We'll kill two birds with one stone."
"What is Snape's not the drinking sort?
"Well, I'm too broke to buy him dinner."
"Hire Snape a companion for the evening," chimed in Lee Jordan.
"A lap dancer," added Fred.
"Perhaps Snape would like to do a lap dance for someone," put in George.
Hermione rolled her eyes. She began to wonder if Snape even received Christmas presents. He was a very difficult person to be nice to. "Maybe we should all try being nice to him," she mused aloud.
Ron choked on his buttered roll. "Hermione, we *are* nice to Snape. As nice as he allows us to be."
"That's exactly my point, Ron. Snape's not a likeable person, but if we made an extra effort to-overlook his snarly remarks-"
"That's asking the impossible," stated Harry. "Some of the things he says warrant a pummeling."
"But Harry, instead of getting angry, which is what he *wants* us to do, why not smile and say 'I feel sorry for you' in the most pleasant voice you can muster? He won't know how to react to that. As a result, he might be less of a-a mean person."
"Are you feeling well, Hermione?"
"Oh fine! I'll do it myself."
"Have fun," said Ron and Harry together.
Two weeks later...
Snape stalked into the classroom with his usual scowl, black robes billowing. Aside from being a tad thinner than usual, Snape had obviously made a full recovery. He stalked to the front of the room and regarded the students unfavorably.
"I have graded your essays, and it is now painfully plain to me why all of you are inept at even gossiping correctly. As for Mr. Creevey's botched attempt at spying, I advise all of you to hire an individual capable of concealing pertinent information that will incriminate you. Even Miss Granger has fallen short of the mark. That is what you get for helping Mr. Longbottom when I clearly tell you *not* to, Miss Granger."
Hermione continued sorting her parchment with a somewhat strained expression of pleasantness plastered across her face.
"Five Galleons says she snaps halfway through the lesson," Ron whispered to Harry.
"Do you have something to share with the rest of us, Weasley," snapped Snape.
"No sir."
"Do a lap dance for him, Ron," whispered Harry. Both of them completely lost their composure and were helpless with laughter.
"Fifty points from Gryffindor! I hope the two of you find your detention as amusing as you seem to find my class. Now shut up or I'll deduct an additional fifty points."
"Thank you, sir," Harry managed to say in a strangled tone as he and Ron struggled to remain silent.
Snape clenched his fists as he continued the lesson.
Harry and Ron's silliness, for whatever reason, was highly contagious. While Snape lectured on the finer properties of mandrake leaves, Seamus murmured, "Snape sure looked cute in his jammies, didn't he?"
Parvati and Lavender burst into giggles upon hearing this. Then, someone started a stick figure drawing of Snape that each member of the class added to as it was passed around. Pansy added a tiara. Neville drew a series of smiley faced flowers and clouds around the frowning stick figure Snape. Draco added Snape twirling his ladle like a baton. Harry drew stiletto heels on Snape's stick boots. Ron, not to be outdone, drew an advertisement:
Friday Night: See the mesmerizing Potions Master dance his way onto the lap of Filch, taking the place of Mrs. Norris for one evening you'll never forget!
When Hermione read this she couldn't help but smirk. Then, she broke down and drew the stick figure Snape singing "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend" The longer Hermione admired her work, the larger her smirk became. Most unfortunately, Snape's sharp eyes detected the change in Hermione's demeanor.
"Fifteen points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger. If you were paying attention, you would find nothing about this to smirk at."
Hermione had been concentrating on the picture, so when Snape reprimanded her, she was focused on the scowling, dancing stick figure Snape. For an instant, the picture really had seemed to be griping at her. This struck her as hilarious and she began to laugh uncontrollably. When Snape realized Hermione to be laughing instead of crying, he looked livid.
"See the dancing Snape for one night only," whispered someone behind Hermione. All within hearing began to chuckle.
Snape flung his quill onto the floor. "Silence, all of you! I don't know what kind of little game all of you are playing, but it is going to stop now. Do you think that just because I spent a week in the hospital, I am no longer in control of this class? Well? Do you?"
The students shook their heads.
Snape scowled a truly ugly scowl as he surveyed the class. "I suppose you find it amusing that the Potions Master fell downstairs, and nearly broke his neck?"
"No we don't," blurted Hermione. "We-sir, we're trying to be nice and put you in a good mood."
"Well, your efforts have failed miserably. The last thing I need are a bunch of annoying little brats attempting to cheer me up. If anyone so much as breaths loud for the rest of the class, I will deduct a hundred points from his house. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
Everyone nodded while trying not to breath. The rest of the hour passed with no further interruptions in Snape's sarcastic repertoire. With a rather smug expression, Snape dismissed the students, assigning them an extra chapter to read for good measure. Judging from the restrained groans, none of them would ever try to lighten his spirits again. Served the little imps right after all they had done. Well, at lest he still maintained the upper hand. No student would ever make a fool of Severus Snape.
Snape paused on his way out the door. Those insufferable little brats! They knew how much he loathed a dirty classroom. He swept over and retrieved a piece of fallen parchment from the floor. Some silly bit of extreme childishness, judging by what Snape glimpsed to be a dancing cartoon figure twirling a baton. Really, these idiots should put their magic to better uses than concocting nonsensical caricatures-wait a second...was that a *ladle*? Just then, Snape's black eyes took in the big, bold lettering "Friday Night: See the mesmerizing Potions Master dance his way onto the lap of..."
~FIN~
Author: Ivory Tower
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all Harry Potter characters and concepts.
Monday. Potions. A typical setting in Snape's classroom: gloomy, apprehensive, silent. Neville looked to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown; his essay on the various aspects of the Yew tree was a quarter of an inch too short. Hermione looked all too eager for her essay to be handed in and graded. Malfoy sat with his usual lounging ease, a devious smirk on his face as he whispered to Pansy and Crabbe.
The bell rang, and for the next few moments nothing happened. Belatedly, the door opened and in marched an out-of-breath Madam Pomfrey. Needless to say, she instantly had the students' undivided attentiveness.
"Professor Snape will not be in today or the rest of the week," she announced, halting before the class.
Even Ron sat up with interest upon hearing this.
"He has left a list of your assignments for the week," continued Madam Pomfrey.
"Is he on holiday," inquired Malfoy sarcastically.
"No, Mr. Malfoy, he is recovering in the hospital wing," Madam Pomfrey curtly replied.
Streams of questions were flung at the school nurse. "What happened?"; "Is he ill?" Professor *Snape's* in the *hospital* wing?"
"Enough! Here are your assignments." Madam Pomfrey laid a long sheet of parchment on Snape's desk. Parvati elbowed Lavender, who was still gaping at the announcement, and had failed to pick up her fallen gum from the table. Hermione raised her hand.
"Is...Professor Snape all right," she asked, unable to help her own curiosity of the incident.
Madam Pomfrey softened a tad. "He will be fine in a week or two," she answered, the dismissed the students back to their common rooms.
The dungeon buzzed with speculation as the students filed upstairs. Professor Snape absent from his usual post was shocking; his being in the hospital wing was nothing short of a phenomenon. The man was so cruel, callous, and concise he seemed immune to the vulnerability of the human body. At any rate, it must be something pretty bad to keep Snape in the hospital wing for an entire week or more.
"Maybe he botched a potion and blew his hands off," suggested Ron, quite happy at the turn of events.
"Ron! That isn't very nice," scolded Hermione. "Maybe Snape lost his voice from so much lecturing, and he's too ashamed to lose face in front of his students...then again, there's a potion to remedy that-"
"Or, he finally cleaned the dust off his mirror, took a good look at himself, and-"
"Ron, that's enough."
"Oh lighten up, Hermione. This is the best thing that's happened to us this year, and you're not even enjoying it."
"Well, I'd enjoy it better if I knew exactly what was wrong with Snape. I don't want to be mean about it. Why should I lower myself to his level?"
Every Gryffindor within hearing had a good laugh at this remark.
As the day progressed, rumors surrounding Snape's incapacitation escalated. Most of the students' speculations focused upon several potion catastrophes that varied in gruesome detail. One Hufflepuff suggested Snape had been in the Forbidden Forest gathering ingredients, and had been trampled by a phantom centaur. Several Ravenclaws swore the Potions Master had been accosted outside the Three Broomsticks, and beaten senseless by a mob of goblins, having been mistaken for a zombie who owed them several hundred Galleons. By dinner, three basic facts had been established:
1) Snape would probably be bed-ridden for a month because it took that long to regrow limbs.
2) Snape's sharp tongue was somehow responsible in the mystery of his invalid status.
3) Snape had thrown a regular tantrum when Dumbledore had appointed a substitute to teach the students, thus the free period that used to be Potions.
Indeed, the Slytherins were beginning to look more than a little worried by the mysterious absence of their Head of House. Dumbledore; however, looked perfectly at ease despite Snape's vacant seat. Then again, Dumbledore had remained calm when in had once rained indoors for three days. Didn't the professors understand that the vague statement: "Profesor Snape is recovering in the Hospital Wing" was equally as bad as not having any information concerning the Potion Master's absence?
Finally, the suspense could be borne no longer, and Colin Creevey was appointed to sneak into the Hospital Wing and get a picture of Snape. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan both agreed that selling pictures of Snape in pajamas instead of his usual black attire would reap in a tidy little profit. With these uncertain times everyone needed a good laugh. Excitement rose to its height when Colin agreed to take up the gauntlet armed with his trusty camera. Even the Slytherins gave their approval and a plan began to take shape.
Someone needed to divert Madam Pomfrey's attention while Colin snuck into the Hospital Wing to get a picture of Snape in his pajamas. Hannah Abbot was nominated for the task as she was studying to be a mediwitch, and could bombard Madam Pomfrey with questions while Colin searched the beds for Snape. All in all it was a brilliant plan except for one minute detail: no one had considered how Colin would get Snape's picture once he located the Potions Master. After all, Colin couldn't very well tell Snape to smile pretty and say "cheese". A sick or wounded Snape was equivalent to a sick or wounded bear. Somehow, in the grand scheme of things, it had been left to assumption that Snape would be asleep, and taking his picture would be of no consequence.
At eight-thirty that evening, Colin and Hannah snuck to the Hospital Wing and took their stations. While Madam Pomfrey's back was turned, Colin snuck, unnoticed, into the hospital wing. Exhilarated, Colin quickly scanned the beds until he found one with the curtains drawn. Unafraid, Colin ran over to the bed, got his camera ready, flung the curtains open, and-!
"What the hell do you want," yelled a very surprised Potions Professor, dropping his book.
Colin was so shocked he yelped. He also, seemingly by instinct, began taking pictures. His finger stuck on the button in his astonishment. Bewilderment soon contorted into annoyance, then outright anger at this rude interruption. Snape's black eyebrows furrowed dangerously as he scowled at Colin and the camera.
"Put down that blasted contraption this instant!"
With trembling hands, Colin did so. "Sir," he exclaimed, "I-I can't believe you're awake!" Then, Colin's brain registered what he was actually seeing. "Sir, I can't believe you're actually wearing pajamas!"
Snape's thin mouth grew thinner. "Did you expect me to be in dress robes, Mr. Creevey? A hundred points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable brat with an utter lack of respect for those who are ill!"
"Sir, exactly what *is* wrong with you? Everyone wants to know. I mean-"
Snape's black eyes narrowed. "So," he whispered calmly, "everyone's been talking behind my back, have they? Wanted to see what was ailing the Potions Master, did they? Are you disappointed to see that my face is still intact, Mr. Creevey?"
"Well, no, but some people were saying-"
"I know what they were saying, you twit," snarled Snape, very much resembling a deranged madman. "I know what everyone's been saying, or *hoping*, rather, what has happened to me. It amazes me how insufferably stupid you children think me to be! If you must know, Mr. Creevey, this is nothing more than the result of my own carelessness.
"In my hurry to finish a potion yesterday evening, I merely lost my footing and had a merry tumble down the stairs in my dungeon. My broken leg was quick enough to mend, but broken ribs are not, most unfortunately.
"And there you have it, Mr. Creevey. I was not mugged by vengeful banshees, or flattened in a bar brawl by drunken warlocks, or any other such nonsense! I fell down the stairs, cracked three ribs, and I am in considerable pain. On your way out kindly inform Madam Pomfrey that I am in need of another pain relieving potion. Also, you may spread the word that I expect, from every one of my students, an essay on the consequences of gossip and spying. I expect two rolls of parchment, and I expect them on my desk next Monday at the beginning of class, no exceptions. You are excused, Mr. Creevey."
Naturally, no one was thrilled with having extra work to do. Many swore that Snape would assign a reams worth of homework on his death bed. Eventually, someone remembered the photographs, the cause of all their sorrow. Colin hadn't had time to develop them in animation solution, but he passed them around anyway.
"Oh my gosh! Snape's in *white* pajamas," shrieked Pansy Parkinson, thoroughly scandalized in a deliciously amused fashion.
"All hospital pajamas are white," said Harry with a shrug, taking the photo passed to him.
Snape looked...odd. His shoulder length black hair was quite mused; he was quiet bleary-eyed, and he looked so...strange without his usual black garb. In a sense he didn't look like himself. He almost looked...non- threatening. Of course, this changed upon viewing the next few photos. Colin's quick camera work had captured Snape's evolving wrath beautifully.
"Uh, Colin, why did you keep on taking pictures with him looking at you like that," Harry wanted to know.
Hermione took the picture Harry was referring to and looked for herself. She jerked her head back as though the picture had yelled at her. In a sense, it had. The only other time Hermione had seen Professor Snape so enraged was when she and Harry had helped Sirius Black escape the Dementor's kiss. Only Snape could look so intimidating and evil in white. Hermione quickly tossed the picture to the next curious spectator.
Inevitably, the other professors caught on (or had been tipped off) as to what the students were up to. Professor McGonagall's rage would have made those pictures of Snape shirk had they been developed in animation solution.
"I have *never* been so disgusted by my students' behavior! To sneak up on a sick patient is inexcusable! I *thought* Gryffindors were more noble than to take advantage of a weak man recovering what could have been a fatal accident! Gossip is bad enough, but this is indescribable! There are no *words* to describe this lowly behavior! I expected better of you. All of you have insulted the House of Gryffindor and everything it stands for!"
Needless to say that by the end of McGonagall's lecture, even Ron felt like going to live with Moaning Myrtle in her toilet. The other Houses fared no better. Then Dumbledore got a hold of them, and that was the absolute worst. Harry would have been delighted to witness Draco Malfoy actually squirm in his seat, but Harry was too busy feeling like the dirt beneath dirt to gloat.
The simple truth was that they had been so enthralled in anticipating a freak show they hadn't stopped to consider Snape or his feelings, if he possessed any. They had taken it for granted that the man was incapable of feeling anything but anger, and while no one willingly wanted to invoke Snape's rage, they were at least used to it. Lavender was the first to lightly suggest that Snape may have been genuinely hurt by everyone *wanting* to see him in a deplorable state. Padma agreed that Snape brought it on himself to be treated like a leper, but even she agreed that Snape had never tried to get any of the students' hospital visits on film.
No, there was no way around the fact that they were severely in the wrong. Two days later, at lunch, Hermione made a face as she drank her pumpkin juice.
"Bug in your juice," asked Ron around a mouthful of chicken.
"No, but we really should apologize to Snape for what we did."
The same thing had occurred to Harry, but he wasn't too keen on the idea. He still hadn't recovered from the lectures Dumbledore and McGonagall had given them. Every time Harry thought of Snape, he shirked and wanted to crawl under a rock for the next month.
Ron frowned. "What makes you think Snape'll accept an apology from anyone but the Slytherins?"
"That doesn't matter," retorted Hermione. "It's the right thing to do."
"Maybe, but he'll still hold it against everyone for as long as they live."
"That doesn't *matter*, Ron. Honestly!"
"Fine lets all chip in and buy him a slab of chocolate from Honeydukes."
Harry looked up from cutting his steak. "Does Snape even like chocolate? I've never seen him eat candy."
"A bottle of wine, then."
"Ron! This is serious."
"So am I. Get the guy drunk and he'll forgive us all. We'll kill two birds with one stone."
"What is Snape's not the drinking sort?
"Well, I'm too broke to buy him dinner."
"Hire Snape a companion for the evening," chimed in Lee Jordan.
"A lap dancer," added Fred.
"Perhaps Snape would like to do a lap dance for someone," put in George.
Hermione rolled her eyes. She began to wonder if Snape even received Christmas presents. He was a very difficult person to be nice to. "Maybe we should all try being nice to him," she mused aloud.
Ron choked on his buttered roll. "Hermione, we *are* nice to Snape. As nice as he allows us to be."
"That's exactly my point, Ron. Snape's not a likeable person, but if we made an extra effort to-overlook his snarly remarks-"
"That's asking the impossible," stated Harry. "Some of the things he says warrant a pummeling."
"But Harry, instead of getting angry, which is what he *wants* us to do, why not smile and say 'I feel sorry for you' in the most pleasant voice you can muster? He won't know how to react to that. As a result, he might be less of a-a mean person."
"Are you feeling well, Hermione?"
"Oh fine! I'll do it myself."
"Have fun," said Ron and Harry together.
Two weeks later...
Snape stalked into the classroom with his usual scowl, black robes billowing. Aside from being a tad thinner than usual, Snape had obviously made a full recovery. He stalked to the front of the room and regarded the students unfavorably.
"I have graded your essays, and it is now painfully plain to me why all of you are inept at even gossiping correctly. As for Mr. Creevey's botched attempt at spying, I advise all of you to hire an individual capable of concealing pertinent information that will incriminate you. Even Miss Granger has fallen short of the mark. That is what you get for helping Mr. Longbottom when I clearly tell you *not* to, Miss Granger."
Hermione continued sorting her parchment with a somewhat strained expression of pleasantness plastered across her face.
"Five Galleons says she snaps halfway through the lesson," Ron whispered to Harry.
"Do you have something to share with the rest of us, Weasley," snapped Snape.
"No sir."
"Do a lap dance for him, Ron," whispered Harry. Both of them completely lost their composure and were helpless with laughter.
"Fifty points from Gryffindor! I hope the two of you find your detention as amusing as you seem to find my class. Now shut up or I'll deduct an additional fifty points."
"Thank you, sir," Harry managed to say in a strangled tone as he and Ron struggled to remain silent.
Snape clenched his fists as he continued the lesson.
Harry and Ron's silliness, for whatever reason, was highly contagious. While Snape lectured on the finer properties of mandrake leaves, Seamus murmured, "Snape sure looked cute in his jammies, didn't he?"
Parvati and Lavender burst into giggles upon hearing this. Then, someone started a stick figure drawing of Snape that each member of the class added to as it was passed around. Pansy added a tiara. Neville drew a series of smiley faced flowers and clouds around the frowning stick figure Snape. Draco added Snape twirling his ladle like a baton. Harry drew stiletto heels on Snape's stick boots. Ron, not to be outdone, drew an advertisement:
Friday Night: See the mesmerizing Potions Master dance his way onto the lap of Filch, taking the place of Mrs. Norris for one evening you'll never forget!
When Hermione read this she couldn't help but smirk. Then, she broke down and drew the stick figure Snape singing "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend" The longer Hermione admired her work, the larger her smirk became. Most unfortunately, Snape's sharp eyes detected the change in Hermione's demeanor.
"Fifteen points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger. If you were paying attention, you would find nothing about this to smirk at."
Hermione had been concentrating on the picture, so when Snape reprimanded her, she was focused on the scowling, dancing stick figure Snape. For an instant, the picture really had seemed to be griping at her. This struck her as hilarious and she began to laugh uncontrollably. When Snape realized Hermione to be laughing instead of crying, he looked livid.
"See the dancing Snape for one night only," whispered someone behind Hermione. All within hearing began to chuckle.
Snape flung his quill onto the floor. "Silence, all of you! I don't know what kind of little game all of you are playing, but it is going to stop now. Do you think that just because I spent a week in the hospital, I am no longer in control of this class? Well? Do you?"
The students shook their heads.
Snape scowled a truly ugly scowl as he surveyed the class. "I suppose you find it amusing that the Potions Master fell downstairs, and nearly broke his neck?"
"No we don't," blurted Hermione. "We-sir, we're trying to be nice and put you in a good mood."
"Well, your efforts have failed miserably. The last thing I need are a bunch of annoying little brats attempting to cheer me up. If anyone so much as breaths loud for the rest of the class, I will deduct a hundred points from his house. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
Everyone nodded while trying not to breath. The rest of the hour passed with no further interruptions in Snape's sarcastic repertoire. With a rather smug expression, Snape dismissed the students, assigning them an extra chapter to read for good measure. Judging from the restrained groans, none of them would ever try to lighten his spirits again. Served the little imps right after all they had done. Well, at lest he still maintained the upper hand. No student would ever make a fool of Severus Snape.
Snape paused on his way out the door. Those insufferable little brats! They knew how much he loathed a dirty classroom. He swept over and retrieved a piece of fallen parchment from the floor. Some silly bit of extreme childishness, judging by what Snape glimpsed to be a dancing cartoon figure twirling a baton. Really, these idiots should put their magic to better uses than concocting nonsensical caricatures-wait a second...was that a *ladle*? Just then, Snape's black eyes took in the big, bold lettering "Friday Night: See the mesmerizing Potions Master dance his way onto the lap of..."
~FIN~