Disclaimer: I do not and will never own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish.
There is a multiple choice poll on my profile for hoe the ending in my 'Changes in the Universe' series should end and what you want me to change.
Bloody Hell
Severus Snape, resident Potions Master of Hogwarts, was having a relaxing break in his dungeon quarters. After three long hours of patrolling the halls for wayward students, who thought they could get away with being out of bed after curfew, he felt he deserved his peace.
As the man sagged into his favourite arm chair by the fire and poured himself a small shot of Firewhiskey, he allowed his mind to wander. Students are getting more confident, he took a sip of his drink, three Hufflepuffs, five Gryffindors and two Ravenclaws in the one night. Thankfully only one Slytherin.
Each student had lost ten points from their house – except the Slytherin boy: he lost five points and ended up with a stern warning glare to make up for it.
Briefly the lank haired man wondered how his colleagues, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout and Albus Dumbledore had done on their rounds of the school. If he'd caught eleven students in his designated areas alone, then he could only imagine how many they had discovered.
A smirk curled the corners of his lips. Imagine how many Gryffindors they caught.
Severus was about to take another sip from his whiskey when a head popped through his fireplace, a long silver beard trailing back through the flames to the other side. He sighed – he was never going to have peace, was he?
"Albus, to what do I owe this visit?" He drawled, eyeing the older man with a sinking feeling in his stomach.
Go away, go away, go away . . .
The Headmaster would only contact him at this particular time if one of his Slytherins has been found dead, causing serious trouble or participating in PDA, the last usually uncomfortable for both the participants and himself. It was for the last reason he hoped it was the second problem.
Albus smiled cheerfully at him, increasing the feeling of dread in his stomach.
Go away Dumbledore, back to your office, that's right, leave me the hell alone . . .
"Severus, I'm sure you'll be pleased to hear that it was simply a very strong case of PDA, and that none of your students are dead." The man practically sang.
Use some common sense Dumbledore – people don't die from snogging. Of course none of my Slytherins are dead! The Potions Master scowled to himself, but on the outside sighed tiredly – he was in no mood to deal with wayward Slytherins with high libidos.
"Which ones tonight?" He asked, placing his drink on the mahogany table. It would not bode well for his image to show up stinking of Firewhiskey.
"It's only one of your Slytherins tonight, Severus. I'll see you in my office – the password is 'Oompa Loompa'." And with that, the Headmaster had quickly retreated back to his office, the cheerful and somewhat crazed grin still in place.
BAD DUMBLEDORE! BAD BOY!
Severus allowed himself a moment of pleasant surprise. Whenever he was called to Dumbledore's office due to hyper students, it was typically between two Slytherins, as the rest of the houses alienated the snake house so much that it was generally accepted that nobody would talk to them, let alone date them.
Then he scowled darkly, reminding himself that sometimes the students from other houses – particularly Gryffindors – enjoyed leading Slytherin students on for a laugh.
With this dark though in mind, the professor stormed out of his quarters and through the dungeons, intent in scaring the hell out of the students that were foolish enough to waste his time.
xXxXx
A few minutes later, a much calmer Severus Snape was heading determinedly towards the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office.
And those stupid sons of banshees that had to bring me away from my rooms at one in the morning! He thought, his annoyance increasing ten-fold.
"Severus!" A surprised voice called from behind him.
The man gritted his teeth. His Slytherins had bad taste if they chose from the current residents of that house. Why him? Why did he have to take care of with horny teenagers at one in the morning?
Severus nearly blanched – not that kind of 'take care of'.
"Minerva." He nodded, almost calmly, to the Head of Gryffindor, who now stood beside him wrapped in a bright red tartan dressing gown. He nearly averted his eyes and fought the need to gag.
Minerva looked absolutely horrified as she put the pieces together – why she'd been pulled out of bed at this early hour, why Severus Snape was here and why it was Dumbledore's office they had been invited to. To him, it made the entire situation almost worth it.
"If we could continue this discussion in the Headmaster's office?" He sneered at his colleague, the anger at her reaction forcing a remark out of him.
She wouldn't have reacted like that if it'd been Pomona or Filius standing in his place.
The old witch nodded and briskly walked ahead of him, uttering that stupid password, and storming up the revolving stone staircase. Reluctantly, bat man followed his black cloak billowing behind him.
When the witch opened the door, she was immediately assaulted with an offer of lemon drops, something which she hastily denied.
Severus entered the office a second later, the bright face of Albus Dumbledore and his offers of drugged lemon drops making him long for his dark dungeons.
"Take a seat." The old man nodded to two pink, floral armchairs that sat side by side in front of the Headmaster's desk.
The Potions Master scanned the room, searching for the two occupants that had ruined his night. What he saw nearly made him laugh.
Shaking, holding hands and their clothing rumpled behind recognition – sat Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.
He nearly made a scathing remark when he saw a bite mark on Draco's neck. He nearly choked when he realised that quite a few buttons were missing from their shirts. And his eyes nearly widened in shock when Draco leaned over and whispered reassuring words in his ear – including I love you.
They did widen when Potter said it back.
He didn't see that one coming.
The words of Ronald Weasley echoed through his head: bloody hell!
He just hadn't realised he'd said the phrase out loud.