OH, HO HO HO HO HO HO HO HO!!!!!!!! Oh, wow, this is just too cute of an
idea. I will never get over how cute this is. Slash haters, flame away! H/S
haters, flame away! 'Cuz ships ahoy or however you say it! I'm finally,
after months of reading, am writing an H/S fanfict. HP doesn't belong to
me! Updated June 3rd for grammatical errors.
****The Odd Predicament****
Potter. How I loathe that foolish boy. I can't even begin to describe my hatred towards him. He's perfect, yet so horribly imperfect. He stands for everything that is good, but is evil, at least in /my/ eyes. Not that anyone else would have ever known or seen that side of Potter. That's because no one else has ever fought beside him for weeks on end. No one but the two of us was there when Potter showed his true side. Everyone else who saw it was killed during that last duel. Ah, and may I add that I hope Voldemort's body rots in hell for the rest of eternity?
Anyway, back to Potter. Yes, our dear little, precious, perfect Potter has a dark, evil side. I'm the only one who lived to tell the tale. How ironic... I'm the man who lived the boy who lived. But yes, Potter can be just about as evil as Tom Riddle himself- not that he shows it. Oh, no, mustn't show his dark side. If he ever let it out again, he would have never gotten that job from Albus this year.
Which brings me to my reason of Potter bashing- Not that I usually have one, but I do this time. Albus Dumbledore, greatest wizard of all time, who gave me a second chance in giving me a job, gave /Potter/ a job- /the/ job. Bloody Potter stole the job I've been wanting for years- Defense Against the Dark Arts.
When he graduated six years ago... wow... six years ago... how come it seems like I've only seen him yesterday? Ah, that's right- because I did! Back to what I was saying, when Potter graduated six years ago, I prayed to every god that I could think of (whether it was Catholic, Roman or Greek) and I thanked them for ridding me of that wretched boy. Voldemort was killed in his last and entirely too long of a last year, and I was absolutely positive I would never see the boy who lived again, perhaps in the Daily Prophet, but never in real life. Damn, was I ever in for a surprise when I walked into the staff room at 7:30 AM August 31st to see Harry Potter sitting in /my/ chair sipping coffee.
All the events afterwards are pretty self-explanatory. I asked him what the hell he was doing here, he replied he was teaching, I asked him what subject, he said DADA, I hexed him, he hexed me back, end of story.
So now, here am I, sitting in the Great Hall. Oh, how I wish I could just kill every single on of these children so that I may be at peace. The lot of them are entirely too loud, and the Great Hall conveniently has great acoustics. I suddenly want to go back into time and kill the founders.
But as if the sound wasn't bad enough, I would have never guessed who would want sit their sorry arse down next to my seat for the rest of the school year. It's sort of a tradition with the faculty that wherever you sit for the start of term feast, you'll sit there for the rest of the year. Yes, so there was I, minding my own Slytherin business when Harry Potter decides to take a seat- next to me. Oh, why do the unforgivable curses have to be unforgivable?
So he sits down, and does something I didn't expect after hexing him a few more limbs and warts that lasted eight hours yesterday. He smiles at me. Stunned, I did the only thing I'm used to doing- I sneer back. He chuckles. I scoff. Foolish boy.
Our little staring contest was broken when a new batch of ready-to-piss-me- off-children enter the hall. Ooh, they look promising. For those of you who couldn't tell, I'm being sarcastic. Minerva begins to explain the procedure of the sorting hat (after it sang its oh so delightful song) in that annoying wavering voice of hers that never stays on one pitch, and I sigh. It's going to be a long year.
One by one, the children are called to sit on that stool and put that decrepit hat on their heads. I always wondered what would happen if one of the children had lice. The hat called out houses and I made sure to sneer at every single child that enters the Slytherin house. It is my proud duty to at least make sure one child every year soils itself in my first lesson. I might as well get a head start.
Ah, they give me withering gazes as I narrow my eyes at them. How it warms my heart to see I can terrify one child so much just by looking at them in the right way. The fact that they are horrified by the time the come to my first lesson of the year, and I yet have to speak of them is just too wonderful. And to be truthful, I think my reputation is just splendid.
Then something interrupts my train of thought during the sorting. I feel something warm brush up against my drooped hands. I didn't even realize I was slouching and I have my arms over the armrest of the chair just dangling there. How odd of me. I straighten up my back at least, and look to where the source of the flirting was. I knew it wasn't accidental, because it happened again before I even got a chance to see who it was.
I turn my head to the left. Potter. I forgot he was here amidst my musings of the children. I now narrow my eyes at him, just as if he were still one of the students. What the hell does he think he's doing? I then begin to hope if it was accidental.
Long fingers brush my palm and tickle my hand slightly. I yank my hand up and put it over my chest. I didn't even realize how hard my heart is pounding. Ooh, Potter, you're in for it. This is frustrating... I'm almost turned on. I think I shall jump off the Astronomy tower if my face is flushed.
Potter looks at me innocently as if to ask what was wrong with me. He knows perfects well what's wrong with me! I narrow my eyes to little black slits at him, and he smirks. His emerald eyes bore into my onyx ones, as if telling me that he /was/ aiming all of his flirtations at me. And then he winks- at me.
My eyes widen and I can feel my face turn hot. Astronomy tower, here I come. I'm about to yell at him when suddenly there's food on my plate.
I'm going to kill Potter. Not only have I missed half of my opportunities to glare at every single child of the first year, but also now the whole Great Hall is looking in my direction. More specifically, to the bastard who is sitting to the left of me.
"Ah yes," Albus says, clearing his throat, "I almost forgot. This year we have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, an alumnus of Hogwarts. I believe he will make an exceptional addition to the staff. May I introduce Professor Harry Potter?"
Oh, Merlin, kill me now. The whole entire Great Hall is looking at Potter who is next to me. And I'm still bright as a damn Gryffindor scarf. Hopefully they will all be to engrossed with the fact that famous Harry Potter has come back to teach that they won't notice.
But I notice with dread, as Potter stands up for recognition how nice of an arse he has. I close my eyes with a groan and lean back into the chair. Yes, this is going to be a very, /very/ long year.
Other than the flirting fiasco, the meal was uneventful. That is, if you don't count the suggestive looks Potter were giving me. I wondered fleetingly as the brat decided to swirl his tongue around a corn dog if he was plastered. Yes, yes, Potter had a bit too much to drink before he came. He went out with the Weasley child and they both got smashed at the local pub. After all, he is twenty-three- an adult.
I think I told myself that about twenty times during the meal. I didn't help any better that Potter decided that he wanted an ice cream sandwich for desert and got the vanilla ice cream all over himself. Honestly, I never knew he could be such a slob. Then I realized I just caught myself trying to change the subjects in my mind to keep away the thought of my ever rising interest and of Potter trying to lick the ice cream right on the corner of his mouth. Merlin, I needed to get out of here.
Once the feast was done, I bolted out of there. I struggled not to look back at Potter as I hurriedly made my way down to the dungeons. If Potter were to do this every single meal, I was done for. I will write my will and suicide letter and jump off the Astronomy tower. This is bad, really bad. Oh, Merlin, this is atrocious.
I find Potter attractive.
Please someone, anyone, kill me now. I think I shall curl up into a little ball and die now, thank you. Yet at the same time I think this, I can only wonder what would happen to Potter if I miraculously died. Would he care at all? And if I didn't die, could he and I ever...
I stop looking for my arsenic. Oh, Merlin, did I just think that? This isn't good. no, no, not good at all. I stumble around and find my liquor cabinet. I wretch out the Firewhisky, and drown my troubles. Perhaps I'll forget about it by the morrow.
****
No such luck, I think with a headache. I wonder to myself a hundred times over why I had to choose the Firewhisky. I down a Pepper-up potion and take a quick shower and all that good shite. Yes, I wash my hair, thank you very much. It just gets greasy from all of the chemicals and potions.
I trudge down the Great Hall once again, and am reminded at why I chose the Firewhisky.
There is Potter sitting in his now assigned chair drinking coffee and eating eggs and toast. It's hard to see the young man look so innocent when he was... well, for lack of better words, naughty. Perhaps he /was/ plastered last night.
But when he looks up from his food and winks at me, I think perhaps he wasn't. That's it; I have got to talk to him. I'm not going to play this game the whole year. I can't stand the fact that he can make me turned on.
I stride over to him with my robes billowing behind me. Did I ever mention how I love these robes? They just add to my bastard effect so well. The children cower as I march on past.
I sweep over to my chair to sit down and glare at him. He pretends not to notice- I know he notices- and keeps on eating his breakfast. I seethe.
"Potter," I address him. I have always addressed him by his surname. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" My voice is just above a deadly whisper, but I know he can hear me, for he answers.
"I'm eating my breakfast, as should you. It's the most important meal of the day." He was always the smart arse.
I growl at him, and hate the way that it doesn't affect him. "You know what I mean, last night at the start of term feast. You were /flirting/ with me."
He puts his fork down, and looks at me. "And?"
Merlin, how can one person be so irritating? Just by one gesture and one word, he has royally pissed me off.
He sighs as if /he's/ irritated, and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Listen Severus," I cringe. I forgot that we're co-workers and that he is allowed to use my given name, but also because I like the way it sounds on his tongue, "I don't see why it would be such a big deal. I mean, you're what? Twenty years older than me, that makes you forty- three. And it's probably been since you were my age since you've had any sort of relationship, whether it was emotional or physical or even both."
I gape at him. How the hell...
"It's obvious, though.," He went on, "You've had this big stick up your arse since the first day I met you. You obviously haven't /gotten/ any arse in a long while. So hey, it's been twenty years for you, twenty months for me- why not? Nothing ventured, nothing gained, am I right?"
I am gob smacked. How dare he suggest that he and I be-be-
"You want me to be your fuck buddy?" I asked him.
Potter shrugged, "Eventually. I was thinking first a snog buddy, then a mutual masturbation buddy, then a b.j buddy, /then/ a fuck buddy, and possibly a rimm-"
"OK! I got the idea." I shudder. I didn't want to think about... no, just... no.
"So will you?" He asked, as if asking me to pass him the cream.
My eyes narrowed, "I never knew you were a comedian."
His eyes twinkled, "I never knew you liked to play hard-to-get." He sat back in his chair as I growled at him once more, like he just won the argument. Hah. He was far from it. "So how about we take it slow?"
I could almost feel my blood pressure rising- "How about no?"
"Oh, so I'll stop by at 9, shall I?" -and my IQ dropping.
I took in a deep breath and counted to 10. "Potter, I said no, get it through your thick skull."
"Oh, I know that you said no. But do you honestly mean it? I think not. Fine, We won't be snog buddies or fuck buddies. I promise you that." He smiled at me. What is he hiding? He held out his hand. "Friends?"
I looked at the hand as if it were carrying an acid that would burn my flesh upon my touch. Shaking hands with this idiot won't do me any good, but what harm would it be to shake it anyway? So I did. Bad mistake.
He brushed his thumb on the backside of my hand, making me shiver uncontrollably, and successfully turning me on once more. I yanked back my hand. "I thought you said."
He gave me a wicked grin, "I never said that friends don't flirt."
And before I had a chance to answer, the owls fluttered in. Usually when the mail comes, that's my signal to prepare for the first class of day. Who did I have again? Ah, yes, 3rd year Gryffindor and Ravenclaws. Not too bad, I could have worse. Such as Gryffindor and Slytherin. Oh, how I loathe when they put those two together. After every one of those I feel like drowning my troubles in a good couple glasses of brandy, then passing out on my sofa.
I didn't even bother to bid Potter good day as I excused myself from the table, but Potter decided to compensate for my lack of formalities. He stood up and shouted to me, "See you at lunch, Severus!"
I had to stop myself to keep on walking until I reached the Astronomy tower, and once I did enter my classroom, I had to make sure that I didn't go searching for my arsenic. It was then I realized how cynical of a man I am. I never used to be /this/ bad. I mean, I have the arsenic for a good reason, but I never had to stop myself from searching for it. Potter will be my death, I decided.
****
Well, the classes weren't all too bad. In matter of fact, I'm pleased to say I still have an appalling effect on third years still. I often wonder where I get this horrible attitude from, this dreadful inclination that yes, I, Severus Amadeus Snape must freak all children out. Perhaps it was my father; I never knew him. He was killed by the time my mother was 8 months pregnant. Hah. Sucks to be her. She had to raise /me/ all by herself. I'm so glad I was born male. And gay. I'll never have to take care of child of my own.
I also never fully realized just how randy the 5th years are. You see, they have just discovered the sexual pleasures of one another's body, and can't get enough of it. It's disgusting when I have to take twenty points off of Hufflepuff because some hormonally charged 15 year old had to grope a girl. It's repulsive. I was never that outrageous. Of course, by the time I was his age, I realized that yes, males can be just as good (hell, even better) fucks as females could be. It wasn't until seventh year that I realized that I was destined to fuck men for the rest of my life.
After that I went down to lunch. I strode through the Great Hall as normal, and enjoyed the looks I got from students of all ages. Not that I showed it. I had to keep my nasty demeanor look. But I lost it all once I saw Potter. Shite. I forgot about him. I /knew/ my day was going just a bit too well.
I grumbled and decided to suck it up. I might as well, being that I have to sit next to him for the rest of the school year. And so, who cares that it's only the second day of school. Potter might loose his seemingly infatuation with me and might be an interesting person. Or he might not, I thought as he raised his eyebrows at me from afar. Even from this distance I could see that his gorgeous green eyes were sparkling with a hunger for meat, and I'm not talking about lunchmeat.
Oh, Merlin, what is happening to me? I used to be able to make this boy tremble underneath me and be nervous around me. Why have the tables turned? And when was it that Potter decided he wanted to have a sultry image? Oh, and Merlin, when didn't I ever noticed that he has muscles and dark tan skin from Quidditch?
I hate Potter. I honestly do. I despise him. I loathe his every being.
I want to shag him on the spot.
I think I physically winced as I sat down and that thought came across my mind. This is turning out to be a nightmare. What is happening to me? Last night I wanted to murder Potter on the spot, now, not even twenty-four hours later, I want to shag him right here and now? I know- I'm going mad. That has got to be it. Albus has finally gotten into my head and I am now deranged.
I didn't even realize I was in a slouching position yet again until warm fingers brushed up against mine once more. I must be going mad. Send me off to St. Mungo's. I touched his fingers back.
His fingers began to lightly trace the palm side of my digits, and I echoed his movements. Our palms slightly touched one another for a moment, and then, as though tentative, touched once again.
His hand swirled along palm until finding the right position. Then, with a mad thumping heart, intertwined his fingers with mine.
I couldn't breath. My brain shut down. The only things going on my mind were sporadic thoughts. I couldn't think, I only felt Potter's hand laced with mine, and his thumb slowly rubbing my thumb.
I jerkily but slowly turned my head to look at Potter. He was acting as though nothing was going on, which was smart. I turned back, and I knew my face was red as a damn Gryffindor scarf, but I...
Oh, Merlin, send me to St. Mungo's now. I beg of thee. Rid me of this madness.
I didn't care.
****The Odd Predicament****
Potter. How I loathe that foolish boy. I can't even begin to describe my hatred towards him. He's perfect, yet so horribly imperfect. He stands for everything that is good, but is evil, at least in /my/ eyes. Not that anyone else would have ever known or seen that side of Potter. That's because no one else has ever fought beside him for weeks on end. No one but the two of us was there when Potter showed his true side. Everyone else who saw it was killed during that last duel. Ah, and may I add that I hope Voldemort's body rots in hell for the rest of eternity?
Anyway, back to Potter. Yes, our dear little, precious, perfect Potter has a dark, evil side. I'm the only one who lived to tell the tale. How ironic... I'm the man who lived the boy who lived. But yes, Potter can be just about as evil as Tom Riddle himself- not that he shows it. Oh, no, mustn't show his dark side. If he ever let it out again, he would have never gotten that job from Albus this year.
Which brings me to my reason of Potter bashing- Not that I usually have one, but I do this time. Albus Dumbledore, greatest wizard of all time, who gave me a second chance in giving me a job, gave /Potter/ a job- /the/ job. Bloody Potter stole the job I've been wanting for years- Defense Against the Dark Arts.
When he graduated six years ago... wow... six years ago... how come it seems like I've only seen him yesterday? Ah, that's right- because I did! Back to what I was saying, when Potter graduated six years ago, I prayed to every god that I could think of (whether it was Catholic, Roman or Greek) and I thanked them for ridding me of that wretched boy. Voldemort was killed in his last and entirely too long of a last year, and I was absolutely positive I would never see the boy who lived again, perhaps in the Daily Prophet, but never in real life. Damn, was I ever in for a surprise when I walked into the staff room at 7:30 AM August 31st to see Harry Potter sitting in /my/ chair sipping coffee.
All the events afterwards are pretty self-explanatory. I asked him what the hell he was doing here, he replied he was teaching, I asked him what subject, he said DADA, I hexed him, he hexed me back, end of story.
So now, here am I, sitting in the Great Hall. Oh, how I wish I could just kill every single on of these children so that I may be at peace. The lot of them are entirely too loud, and the Great Hall conveniently has great acoustics. I suddenly want to go back into time and kill the founders.
But as if the sound wasn't bad enough, I would have never guessed who would want sit their sorry arse down next to my seat for the rest of the school year. It's sort of a tradition with the faculty that wherever you sit for the start of term feast, you'll sit there for the rest of the year. Yes, so there was I, minding my own Slytherin business when Harry Potter decides to take a seat- next to me. Oh, why do the unforgivable curses have to be unforgivable?
So he sits down, and does something I didn't expect after hexing him a few more limbs and warts that lasted eight hours yesterday. He smiles at me. Stunned, I did the only thing I'm used to doing- I sneer back. He chuckles. I scoff. Foolish boy.
Our little staring contest was broken when a new batch of ready-to-piss-me- off-children enter the hall. Ooh, they look promising. For those of you who couldn't tell, I'm being sarcastic. Minerva begins to explain the procedure of the sorting hat (after it sang its oh so delightful song) in that annoying wavering voice of hers that never stays on one pitch, and I sigh. It's going to be a long year.
One by one, the children are called to sit on that stool and put that decrepit hat on their heads. I always wondered what would happen if one of the children had lice. The hat called out houses and I made sure to sneer at every single child that enters the Slytherin house. It is my proud duty to at least make sure one child every year soils itself in my first lesson. I might as well get a head start.
Ah, they give me withering gazes as I narrow my eyes at them. How it warms my heart to see I can terrify one child so much just by looking at them in the right way. The fact that they are horrified by the time the come to my first lesson of the year, and I yet have to speak of them is just too wonderful. And to be truthful, I think my reputation is just splendid.
Then something interrupts my train of thought during the sorting. I feel something warm brush up against my drooped hands. I didn't even realize I was slouching and I have my arms over the armrest of the chair just dangling there. How odd of me. I straighten up my back at least, and look to where the source of the flirting was. I knew it wasn't accidental, because it happened again before I even got a chance to see who it was.
I turn my head to the left. Potter. I forgot he was here amidst my musings of the children. I now narrow my eyes at him, just as if he were still one of the students. What the hell does he think he's doing? I then begin to hope if it was accidental.
Long fingers brush my palm and tickle my hand slightly. I yank my hand up and put it over my chest. I didn't even realize how hard my heart is pounding. Ooh, Potter, you're in for it. This is frustrating... I'm almost turned on. I think I shall jump off the Astronomy tower if my face is flushed.
Potter looks at me innocently as if to ask what was wrong with me. He knows perfects well what's wrong with me! I narrow my eyes to little black slits at him, and he smirks. His emerald eyes bore into my onyx ones, as if telling me that he /was/ aiming all of his flirtations at me. And then he winks- at me.
My eyes widen and I can feel my face turn hot. Astronomy tower, here I come. I'm about to yell at him when suddenly there's food on my plate.
I'm going to kill Potter. Not only have I missed half of my opportunities to glare at every single child of the first year, but also now the whole Great Hall is looking in my direction. More specifically, to the bastard who is sitting to the left of me.
"Ah yes," Albus says, clearing his throat, "I almost forgot. This year we have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, an alumnus of Hogwarts. I believe he will make an exceptional addition to the staff. May I introduce Professor Harry Potter?"
Oh, Merlin, kill me now. The whole entire Great Hall is looking at Potter who is next to me. And I'm still bright as a damn Gryffindor scarf. Hopefully they will all be to engrossed with the fact that famous Harry Potter has come back to teach that they won't notice.
But I notice with dread, as Potter stands up for recognition how nice of an arse he has. I close my eyes with a groan and lean back into the chair. Yes, this is going to be a very, /very/ long year.
Other than the flirting fiasco, the meal was uneventful. That is, if you don't count the suggestive looks Potter were giving me. I wondered fleetingly as the brat decided to swirl his tongue around a corn dog if he was plastered. Yes, yes, Potter had a bit too much to drink before he came. He went out with the Weasley child and they both got smashed at the local pub. After all, he is twenty-three- an adult.
I think I told myself that about twenty times during the meal. I didn't help any better that Potter decided that he wanted an ice cream sandwich for desert and got the vanilla ice cream all over himself. Honestly, I never knew he could be such a slob. Then I realized I just caught myself trying to change the subjects in my mind to keep away the thought of my ever rising interest and of Potter trying to lick the ice cream right on the corner of his mouth. Merlin, I needed to get out of here.
Once the feast was done, I bolted out of there. I struggled not to look back at Potter as I hurriedly made my way down to the dungeons. If Potter were to do this every single meal, I was done for. I will write my will and suicide letter and jump off the Astronomy tower. This is bad, really bad. Oh, Merlin, this is atrocious.
I find Potter attractive.
Please someone, anyone, kill me now. I think I shall curl up into a little ball and die now, thank you. Yet at the same time I think this, I can only wonder what would happen to Potter if I miraculously died. Would he care at all? And if I didn't die, could he and I ever...
I stop looking for my arsenic. Oh, Merlin, did I just think that? This isn't good. no, no, not good at all. I stumble around and find my liquor cabinet. I wretch out the Firewhisky, and drown my troubles. Perhaps I'll forget about it by the morrow.
****
No such luck, I think with a headache. I wonder to myself a hundred times over why I had to choose the Firewhisky. I down a Pepper-up potion and take a quick shower and all that good shite. Yes, I wash my hair, thank you very much. It just gets greasy from all of the chemicals and potions.
I trudge down the Great Hall once again, and am reminded at why I chose the Firewhisky.
There is Potter sitting in his now assigned chair drinking coffee and eating eggs and toast. It's hard to see the young man look so innocent when he was... well, for lack of better words, naughty. Perhaps he /was/ plastered last night.
But when he looks up from his food and winks at me, I think perhaps he wasn't. That's it; I have got to talk to him. I'm not going to play this game the whole year. I can't stand the fact that he can make me turned on.
I stride over to him with my robes billowing behind me. Did I ever mention how I love these robes? They just add to my bastard effect so well. The children cower as I march on past.
I sweep over to my chair to sit down and glare at him. He pretends not to notice- I know he notices- and keeps on eating his breakfast. I seethe.
"Potter," I address him. I have always addressed him by his surname. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" My voice is just above a deadly whisper, but I know he can hear me, for he answers.
"I'm eating my breakfast, as should you. It's the most important meal of the day." He was always the smart arse.
I growl at him, and hate the way that it doesn't affect him. "You know what I mean, last night at the start of term feast. You were /flirting/ with me."
He puts his fork down, and looks at me. "And?"
Merlin, how can one person be so irritating? Just by one gesture and one word, he has royally pissed me off.
He sighs as if /he's/ irritated, and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Listen Severus," I cringe. I forgot that we're co-workers and that he is allowed to use my given name, but also because I like the way it sounds on his tongue, "I don't see why it would be such a big deal. I mean, you're what? Twenty years older than me, that makes you forty- three. And it's probably been since you were my age since you've had any sort of relationship, whether it was emotional or physical or even both."
I gape at him. How the hell...
"It's obvious, though.," He went on, "You've had this big stick up your arse since the first day I met you. You obviously haven't /gotten/ any arse in a long while. So hey, it's been twenty years for you, twenty months for me- why not? Nothing ventured, nothing gained, am I right?"
I am gob smacked. How dare he suggest that he and I be-be-
"You want me to be your fuck buddy?" I asked him.
Potter shrugged, "Eventually. I was thinking first a snog buddy, then a mutual masturbation buddy, then a b.j buddy, /then/ a fuck buddy, and possibly a rimm-"
"OK! I got the idea." I shudder. I didn't want to think about... no, just... no.
"So will you?" He asked, as if asking me to pass him the cream.
My eyes narrowed, "I never knew you were a comedian."
His eyes twinkled, "I never knew you liked to play hard-to-get." He sat back in his chair as I growled at him once more, like he just won the argument. Hah. He was far from it. "So how about we take it slow?"
I could almost feel my blood pressure rising- "How about no?"
"Oh, so I'll stop by at 9, shall I?" -and my IQ dropping.
I took in a deep breath and counted to 10. "Potter, I said no, get it through your thick skull."
"Oh, I know that you said no. But do you honestly mean it? I think not. Fine, We won't be snog buddies or fuck buddies. I promise you that." He smiled at me. What is he hiding? He held out his hand. "Friends?"
I looked at the hand as if it were carrying an acid that would burn my flesh upon my touch. Shaking hands with this idiot won't do me any good, but what harm would it be to shake it anyway? So I did. Bad mistake.
He brushed his thumb on the backside of my hand, making me shiver uncontrollably, and successfully turning me on once more. I yanked back my hand. "I thought you said."
He gave me a wicked grin, "I never said that friends don't flirt."
And before I had a chance to answer, the owls fluttered in. Usually when the mail comes, that's my signal to prepare for the first class of day. Who did I have again? Ah, yes, 3rd year Gryffindor and Ravenclaws. Not too bad, I could have worse. Such as Gryffindor and Slytherin. Oh, how I loathe when they put those two together. After every one of those I feel like drowning my troubles in a good couple glasses of brandy, then passing out on my sofa.
I didn't even bother to bid Potter good day as I excused myself from the table, but Potter decided to compensate for my lack of formalities. He stood up and shouted to me, "See you at lunch, Severus!"
I had to stop myself to keep on walking until I reached the Astronomy tower, and once I did enter my classroom, I had to make sure that I didn't go searching for my arsenic. It was then I realized how cynical of a man I am. I never used to be /this/ bad. I mean, I have the arsenic for a good reason, but I never had to stop myself from searching for it. Potter will be my death, I decided.
****
Well, the classes weren't all too bad. In matter of fact, I'm pleased to say I still have an appalling effect on third years still. I often wonder where I get this horrible attitude from, this dreadful inclination that yes, I, Severus Amadeus Snape must freak all children out. Perhaps it was my father; I never knew him. He was killed by the time my mother was 8 months pregnant. Hah. Sucks to be her. She had to raise /me/ all by herself. I'm so glad I was born male. And gay. I'll never have to take care of child of my own.
I also never fully realized just how randy the 5th years are. You see, they have just discovered the sexual pleasures of one another's body, and can't get enough of it. It's disgusting when I have to take twenty points off of Hufflepuff because some hormonally charged 15 year old had to grope a girl. It's repulsive. I was never that outrageous. Of course, by the time I was his age, I realized that yes, males can be just as good (hell, even better) fucks as females could be. It wasn't until seventh year that I realized that I was destined to fuck men for the rest of my life.
After that I went down to lunch. I strode through the Great Hall as normal, and enjoyed the looks I got from students of all ages. Not that I showed it. I had to keep my nasty demeanor look. But I lost it all once I saw Potter. Shite. I forgot about him. I /knew/ my day was going just a bit too well.
I grumbled and decided to suck it up. I might as well, being that I have to sit next to him for the rest of the school year. And so, who cares that it's only the second day of school. Potter might loose his seemingly infatuation with me and might be an interesting person. Or he might not, I thought as he raised his eyebrows at me from afar. Even from this distance I could see that his gorgeous green eyes were sparkling with a hunger for meat, and I'm not talking about lunchmeat.
Oh, Merlin, what is happening to me? I used to be able to make this boy tremble underneath me and be nervous around me. Why have the tables turned? And when was it that Potter decided he wanted to have a sultry image? Oh, and Merlin, when didn't I ever noticed that he has muscles and dark tan skin from Quidditch?
I hate Potter. I honestly do. I despise him. I loathe his every being.
I want to shag him on the spot.
I think I physically winced as I sat down and that thought came across my mind. This is turning out to be a nightmare. What is happening to me? Last night I wanted to murder Potter on the spot, now, not even twenty-four hours later, I want to shag him right here and now? I know- I'm going mad. That has got to be it. Albus has finally gotten into my head and I am now deranged.
I didn't even realize I was in a slouching position yet again until warm fingers brushed up against mine once more. I must be going mad. Send me off to St. Mungo's. I touched his fingers back.
His fingers began to lightly trace the palm side of my digits, and I echoed his movements. Our palms slightly touched one another for a moment, and then, as though tentative, touched once again.
His hand swirled along palm until finding the right position. Then, with a mad thumping heart, intertwined his fingers with mine.
I couldn't breath. My brain shut down. The only things going on my mind were sporadic thoughts. I couldn't think, I only felt Potter's hand laced with mine, and his thumb slowly rubbing my thumb.
I jerkily but slowly turned my head to look at Potter. He was acting as though nothing was going on, which was smart. I turned back, and I knew my face was red as a damn Gryffindor scarf, but I...
Oh, Merlin, send me to St. Mungo's now. I beg of thee. Rid me of this madness.
I didn't care.