Note: A little poem, nothing more. The first piece of Potter I've written. The last? Who knows? Not me.
****************************
A Midnight Sneak
I know you're here, you beastly boy,
Hidden in your Christmas toy.
You think I'm fooled if I can't see
you trying to make your way past me?
Oh, let me just catch one thin thread,
I'll make you wish you'd died instead.
A hundred points and more from you
I'll take, for all the things you do.
Stepping lightly matters not -
I hear your breath, you little snot.
Closer now, ah yes - you see
How easily you're fooling me?
See how Snape is thinking deep,
perhaps of war, perhaps of sleep,
Or of the time he went astray,
His bitterness, his...anyway...
He's unattentive, isn't he?
Lost inside his reverie.
See him lean against the wall,
He's unaware you're here at all.
Sneak up, sneak up, my little flea,
Come tippy-toed right up to me.
And pause, no doubt with furrowed brow,
To calculate your chances now.
There's barely room, you must be fast,
And there! You take the chance at last!
So close, I smell your skin, your hair,
I lunge - and capture empty air.
I hear your footsteps run away...
Oohh son, you'll go too far one day.
Slip up once and you will find
Your hair, my fingers, intertwined.
You think for me that you're a match?
I swear to you - just let me catch
One thread from that infernal cloak,
I'll throttle you, I'll make you choke.
For now, though, yet again you've won.
You drive me up the wall, my son.
Ah, curse the day you came to me
And spoiled my dull serenity.
End.
