Another story that would put me on JK Rowlings hit list if she were to read this.

Anyway, this is James' fault once again, because he came up with this idea. There may be two other scenes to go with this one. Anyway, this takes place during "The Prisoner of Azkaban" story.

Enjoy, Be insulted, and Read and Review!

Photos

Malfoy and his two flunkies sat at the front of the class in potions. When Snape was otherwise occupied in one of his favorite activities (i.e. harassing the Gryffindor losers and making Neville Longbottom feel exceptionally miniscule.), Malfoy elbowed his Neanderthal companions.

"Do you have the goods?" he whispered urgently to them.

The two of them showed the identical blank expression and looked to each other for support, but none was forthcoming from the other. "What goods?" one of them asked.

"The photos, you gits!" he snarled. Good help was so hard to come by these days.

"Oh!" they exclaimed as one hurriedly searching through their clothes, bags, and other places best unmentioned in a desperate sort of way. They eventually ended up pointing at each other in accusations, but the thin platinum blonde youth spotted the small brown bag sitting on the pair's potions book. He snatched it up. He gave a glance over his shoulder. The professor had moved his attacks onto Ron Weasley, and he offered up a bottle of strychnine to the ailing Weasley family rat. Malfoy gave that thin lipped smile. Potter would be next, therefore he had plenty of time to peruse his ill-gotten shower photos of the girls locker room. Normally, he would be more than willing to cheer his favorite teacher on and laugh at the silly Gryffindors, but one must have his priorities straight.

He opened the package and took out the photos. A deep scowl crossed his pale face. he shuffled through the photos with his ire growing. Before he could stand up and properly reprimand his brainless flunkies with the sharp end of his foot to a tender place of the anatomy, Snape swooped over upon him. The long thin fingers of the dark severe potions teacher snatched up the object of Malfoy's desire.

The youth swallowed hard. This deed would be hard to cover up and Snape's detentions were notoriously gruesome. The greasy haired teacher frowned and nodded his head as he gazed at the photo of Professor Sprout, having a pleasant shower with her Herbal Essence. Light flickered across his face at the sight of Professor Grubbly-Plank shaking out her mane of grey hair in the shower. One could have mistaken his look as one of delight as he gazed upon the photo of Madam Hooch bouncing about in the steam filled room. Finally, the corners of the rather sinister potion master's lips twitched at the sight of Professor McGongall lathering up.

"10 points to Slytherin for such fine enlightening aesthetics," he announced.

Malfoy beamed happily at this grand achievement.

"10 points from Gryffindor for not thinking of it first," he finished, "Continue your work."

Snape slithered over to his desk and enjoyed his moments with his newly acquired prize, and he wondered where he could get them enlarged.