Rare Scottish Snow

by Icarus

Harry pushed open the door to Severus Snape's quarters. He shoved the cowl of his winter cloak off his head, the wool wet with melting snow, and took in the fireglow of the room. Severus's hair hung forward as he peered into a book, the tense lines of his face belied by the way his feet were sprawled out. He didn't appear to notice Harry as he turned a page. The steaming tea kettle hovered in the fire. It was Severus' assurance no one would visit him that way.

Severus' Snapes quarters seemed different every season, and winter was Harry's favourite. Nothing changed exactly. The harp remained in its corner, the elegant, dark wood as deadly as ever; the books were all systematically organised. (If Harry put so much as a periodical out of place, somehow Severus always knew, immediately.) But the light from the high-up little windows shifted with the season, and what was dark and oppressive in spring and summer was cozy now.

"Don't piddle on the floor, and come in." Severus didn't even look up. After two years, Severus could still make him jump.

"It's snowing, Severus."

Severus made an abstracted noise. "Uhm-hmm."

Harry continued. "...and it's starting to stick."

Severus gave him a sarcastic glance. And turned the page. Then turned back to his book.

Harry simply stood with his hands behind his back, waiting for some kind of response. He got none, which didn't surprise him. The fire crackled.

"You should go outside and see. We don't get snow often," he said, as he shifted nervously from one foot to another.

Severus merely grunted. His latest technique to dissuade interruptions was to ignore Harry entirely. It didn't work, of course.

Harry took a deep breath. "How expensive is that book you're holding?"

Now Severus looked both puzzled and irritated, as he turned sidelong towards Harry. He shrugged briefly. "It's just a novel, why -?"

The snowball caught him full in the face, with a flabbergasted expression. Which rose to fury as he stood, snow sliding from his chin. Spangles of snow flew as he launched himself into the hallway.

Harry had already made good his escape.

The few Slytherins who'd stayed for the Christmas hols were treated to the sight of their Head of House, surprisingly fast on those long legs, pelting after a laughing, dodging Harry Potter.

Finis.