GUESS WHOS BAAAACK!
Alright, sorry I've been gone so long, Its been SUPER busy at the college. But of course the guilt from not writing finally got me.
Plus, I do believe I have a story to focus on don't I.
I promise that white as the virgin snow is still in progress, it's just tough to make a sequel that would rival all the support of SSSE. I promise it will be updated soon, but for now I need to get back into the FF spirit and how better to do that than a classic Snarry!
(I AM LOOKING FOR A BETA. TOO LAZY TO EDIT MY OWN WORK.)
Warnings: This story contains explicit male sexual content, (MXM) Language, and possible violence.
This story is rated M for mature. Don't like don't read.
The Red Rose
A red rose. That was what sat on his pillow. Its red petals a startling contrast to the creamy white of the pillowcase.
Harry stood there floored. Why would anyone want to send him a rose? Sure, after the end of the war he was damn near drowning in flowers, but after Hermione set up this screening process, separating and re-routing gifts based on the emotions when sent, the landfill of mail almost completely stopped.
Hermione was a genius. Gifts sent with ill intentions were automatically sent to the ministry to be scanned and destroyed. Gifts sent with gratitude were automatically scanned and if anything of value was found it was donated to various charities for children without parents after the war.
Yet, even after all the screening, there was a rose sitting on his pillow. Its scarlet petals unbruised and unruffled.
Waving his wand, Harry performed several scanning spells to try to determine why it had gotten past the scanner, finding neither any curses nor a magical signature. After the spells came back clean Harry picked up the rose, examining it up close.
The thorns on the rose were all trimmed off by hand, if the very slight angle was any indication. The bloom was full and unbruised, almost seeming to burst open any moment. There was no crust on the bottom of the rose, it had to be cut very recently.
It was obvious that someone had cared very much about it, given the care shown in the trimming.
Slightly touched, and vowing to ask Hermione about it tomorrow he transfigured a quill into a slender glass vase and filled it with water.
After placing the rose in the vase, he crawled into his four poster and set his alarm. Just because he was an eighth year and only started class at eleven, didn't mean he could wake up 15 minutes before class like Ron.
The next day, Harry woke up to the sight of the red rose on his nightstand. His eyes widened. 'What in the hell?'
Beside the vase was a little card, also seeming to have escaped the screening process. Was the screening charm getting old already? Perhaps he should firecall Hermione and ask about the charm.
After the usual scanning charms, again revealing no identity, harry picked up the card and began to read. The script was slightly cramped, written in simple handwriting. None of that flowery script women seemed to enjoy giving him so much.
My dear Harry:
Did you like my little gift?
Keep it safe, it will always protect you in return, although
I wish that it could be my arms around you, protecting you
from the world.
I should also mention that your screening charm is getting old.
You should re-cast it just to be safe.
Love, Toby
Harry stared at the script. Who the fuck was Toby?
Carefully, he set the card in the drawer of the nightstand, then sat there staring at the rose. Was it just him or did it look a little bit fuller then it did yesterday?
His watch dinged, breakfast was being served in the great hall. As harry walked down the staircases harry couldn't help but wonder. Who was this toby? He didn't want to show the letter to Hermione, she would suffocate him to death with worrying.
He would just write her a letter asking to renew the charm for now.
Breakfast was uneventful, Dean had already finished the last of the toast by the time he got there. Merlin, he could pack away toast. Ron decided to show up 2 minutes before class started, barely making it before Snape showed up for potions class.
As per usual, Snape took points, people wound up in tears, the Slytherins sneered and threw things into cauldrons and the advanced version of Death By Sleep wound up on the ceiling.
Pretty average class. Although, it seems Snape finally caught onto the fact that no one wanted to stay and remake the potion, so he scheduled a mass detention for those that didn't complete the potion. So of course he had detention.
He was in charms now and professor Flitwick was going over the theory and execution of the Water Purification charm.
Suddenly he felt a nudge at his side, just at his side of the table there was a note from Ron.
Did you get that Gits essay done before detention tonight?
Harry took his somewhat beaten quill and dipped it into the ink pot, royal blue against off white parchment.
Nah. Had to finish that DADA assignment before class. Don't want a detention with HER as well.
Might do it during dinner.
Ron looked scandalised, whether at the thought of the essay or the fact that he would miss a meal was a toss up.
Speaking of detention, you notice the Gits been acting more foul then usual?
Harry was not impressed. After all no foulness could stand against the cold glare reserved for him in some special level of hell-
"While you may be finished this part of the lesson Mr. Potter, we will be starting a new variation of the spell now, using rum which possesses qualities of-"
The high voice of the diminutive professor brought his head up. "Sorry professor."
After class Harry and Ron headed to detention. They walked down the almost slippery steps into the darkness of the dungeons, its dark maw opening for them, the damp cold crawling through their robes to their flesh.
"Ugh. What on earth did we do to deserve detention with FUCKING SNAPE!"
"Perhaps if you paid attention in class you would not BE in this position Mr. Weasley."
Both boys jumped, a chill going up their backbones. Professor Snape stood there in all his dark glory right behind them. 'How the FUCK did he get behind us!'
There was no way the professor had been following them for the last ten minutes. Could he?
"As for your mouth Weasley You will be serving detention with filch tonight. Perhaps cleaning toilets will clean out your mouth as well. You will redo your assignment tomorrow morning at 6 AM sharp."
Harry placed his hand over Ron's mouth the moment he started to complain. "Yes professor."
He grasped Ron's hand, pulling him back up the stairs when a hand cut him off.
"You Mr. Potter, will be serving detention with me as planned."
A light sneer curled around the man's lips, eyes glittering with what looked like malice.
Suddenly a tongue licked his hand, harry recoiled wiping his friends spit onto the side of his robe. "Snape you cant-"
"20 points from Gryffindor for disrespecting a professor! Open your mouth again and it will be fifty!"
Red faced but silent, Ron marched up the stairs, even after he disappeared from view he could still hear the stomping echoing from up above.
"Now as for you Mr. Potter, You will be remaking your potion, then you will be assisting me throughout the evening."
Snape stopped and stood to the side. "After you Potter."
Harry was forced to press himself past Snape as he squeezed by in the dark hallway. The smell of Anise stuck to the man's robes clung to his nostrils. Thank god it was dark, rubbing up against his potions professor wasn't something he was particularly okay with. He refused to admit to the red tinge on his cheeks. Never.
The rest of the way there was spent trying to avoid looking back at the professor behind him, and removing the red on his cheeks before they entered the classroom.
And that's the first chapter. Will likely upload the second in a couple of days. It IS the weekend after all.
Also have an angsty little snarry in the works. Just a 2 shot, but hey, its beautiful and its inspired by Shinedown.
Itll be out soon.
(STILL LOOKING FOR BETA: APPLY VIA PM)