Title: Dirty Day
Author: Sare Liz
Disclaimer: Does not belong to me.
Rating: light R for honest discussions of sex between consenting adults, and a bit of swearing.
Pairing: SS/HG
Continuity: For the next seven days, it's not an AU. After July 21, 2007, it might be. I don't think Severus is OOC, because I think that any and everyone is capable of redemption and personal growth. Perhaps it's the priest in me. It leaks out at the oddest times.
Inspiration: U2's Dirty Day [Junk Day Remix]. It's just brilliant.
Author's Note: So.
I was on vacation with Frannie, right? Right. And then her bishop dies. Cancel vacation, drive back to the U.P. with her. Since I can't drive stick, I'm reading HP:OOP, out loud, in character, with appropriate british accents and angsty yelling at the top of my lungs – I had no real concept of just how much Harry yells in the first half of that book. 14.5 hours later and we're only halfway through. Crazy.
So, a lot has to happen when your boss dies suddenly, ditto a bishop, and when it's both, it's crazy. I spent some quality time alone, which was good for this little introvert. And during that time, I wrote this.
It started out as a writing exercise, since i hadn't been writing much lately. I grabbed my playlist called 'Severus' and decided i'd write a drabble to each song.
I only got as far as the first song, mainly because I wrote a drabble for every two lines.
Literally.
There are fourteen drabbles. And then, I just kept writing. So, here's the fourteen drabbles. More to come.
Please note each drabble has it's own title.
Title: His Little Helper
I don't know you,
But you don't know the half of it…
She paused from her work. The red ink had really held a thrill for her at first, but she got over that pretty quickly. She'd never quite meet his standards, at least not his spoken ones, but she deeply suspected that he was grateful for the respite. At least, grading the first years' papers had been his addition to her contract, not the Headmistress'.
Still, she thought, chewing pensively on the quill, mind on her mentor. There was something going on with him, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Those were both odd things, and worth further thought.
Title: Taking the Internship
I had a starring role
As the bad guy who walked out
"Don't you care where he went? Don't you care why? Don't you care what he's done, for Christ's sake? God, Hermione, you've really gone to the dogs. You're letting your hormones lead instead you instead of the good sense you've always shown…"
The words had been echoing in her head since they'd been uttered. It was hard to ignore the impact of them on her, particularly since she wasn't aware her hormones had been voting. Her fingers wrapped around the tea cup as she took a deep breath. She needed a bit of wise counsel – she was uncharacteristically confused.
"Mum…"
Title: They Said, 'Get a life! Live a little!'
They say be careful where you aim
Cause where you aim, you just might hit
It had been a stupid idea – a whim of his, and he'd acted on it because he could, for the first time in what felt like forever. A whim – what a stellar reason, really top shelf, Severus.
He'd be nice, or the closest approximation he could manage. He'd talk. He'd share. He'd be amicable because on a whim he decided to make a friend, and see what happened. Well, he saw. He saw it in the mirror – a heart he didn't know he had, bleeding out his eyes all because she was out with her boyfriend, tonight.
Idiot.
Title: Mr. Wrong
You hold onto something so tight
You've already lost it
He could imagine her being crushed, like the flower in his hand. He knew full well that it took skill, and perhaps even talent to create an enduring relationship of the sort he wished, if you weren't willing to use the Imperius Curse. He knew he didn't have the skill, he suspected he didn't have the talent, and he imagined that she wouldn't wait around during his learning curve, which he thought would be considerable.
Well, there was one thing he could give her, that he knew. He couldn't be her perfect man, but he could be her perfect fuck.
Title: Mr. Right
Dragging me down,
That's not the way it used to be
"What's wrong with you tonight?"
"Nothing, Eric," she said, trying to placate his surprisingly hostile tone. She'd rather placate just at the moment, because she wasn't actually sure what was wrong with her – but she refused to lie to herself, though she'd lie to him. And apparently, Eric had noticed as well. His tried and true motto, "nothing sex can't cure" had finally proved false.
Maybe, though… Maybe it wasn't her. Maybe it was him. She looked at Eric, and for the first time was less than fully impressed.
How sad. Her mother had really liked this one, too.
Title: The Disillusionment Spell
You can't even remember
What I'm trying to forget
He thought she was sitting for chemistry and maths. He thought she'd gone to a swank boarding school in Scotland. He thought she had a flat with her best mates here in London, through it threw him off that her best mates were boys. He thought she was a bird lover, with her owl. He thought a lot of things, her sweet American muggle boyfriend.
He thought her nightmares were just nightmares. He thought her scars were from a fishing accident. He thought 'The War' was in the Middle East.
And for a while she'd thought that would be okay.
Title: Do Bastards Have Hearts?
It was a dirty day,
A dirty day
His satisfaction felt altogether familiar. He had gained at someone else's loss. And yet, he could not bring himself to feel even the slightest amount of guilt over the prospect of the dear sweet American boy's turmoil.
Now, Hermione was another matter entirely. That she was here in his study ranting over their shared firewhiskey was something quite notable – he was making significant progress, though in which specific direction he wasn't as clear. But, too, she was angry and in pain. That he loved less.
Still, the alcohol made him mellower. He'd deal with tricky emotions in the morning.
Title: Wet Dream Walking
You're looking for explanations
But I don't even understand.
The kiss was on fire. And it tasted strongly of Old Ogden's, 1956.
She groaned his name as his lips trailed down her throat, but whined when he stopped. Ten minutes later she was asleep in the chair. He didn't dare try to bring her back to her own rooms, rather he transfigured the chair into a large and squashy chaise and fetched blankets to keep her warm. He set some headache potion and a glass of water at the table next to her before he stumbled off to his own bed, his own dreams. Sleep came quickly that night.
Title: The Morning After
If you need someone to blame
Throw a rock in the air, you'll hit someone guilty
"I'm listening, Severus. I'm listening for your very convincing explanation."
"My assistant and I have become friends, Headmistress. We were sharing a firewhiskey in my study and she was describing some frustrations of hers concerning a topic dear to her. She imbibed a bit too much, I believe, and she passed out. I did not have the heart to move her, and so made her comfortable and left her to it."
"And so, you have absolutely no designs whatsoever on Ms. Granger?"
Severus' breathing paused momentarily – lying was not an option, and yet the truth was so inconvenient…
Title: Reading the Wrong Parchment
Get it right:
There's no blood thicker than it
He'd seen the signs – he may never have participated in it himself, but that didn't mean he wasn't an observant man. Silly students and sillier wizards falling ballocks over brains in… in, well, in craving with some delectable little morsel with whom they have absolutely shite in common. After two months, perhaps four – maybe even eight, all the things that attracted them were the very things that repulse the poor bastards.
It wouldn't happen. He wouldn't do it. They could, perhaps, be friends with benefits, but he steadfastly refused to lose his friend, no matter how he presently felt.
Title: More Tea
Hear what I say,
Nothing's as simple as you think
"We're friends."
"Are you joking?"
"No, really. We're just friends. I mean, not in that way. I'm not trying to cover up anything. He can be quite a nice fellow, if he decides to be."
"He can certainly be a right bastard when he decides to be."
"True. I've talked to him about that. He says he enjoys it too much to ever let it go."
"Hm."
"What d'you mean, 'Hm?'"
"What about Eric?"
"Muggle. Too complicated. Couldn't do it."
"Hm."
"I like him. He's a sharp wit and a brilliant mind."
"And darkly sexy, if I remember correctly."
"Mum!"
Title: The Overheard Whisper
WAKE UP!
There's some things you can't get around
"She's the Potions Master's girlfriend, isn't she?"
First Eric, then her mother, then Ron of all people, and now random fourth years. This was getting intolerable. They were friends for God's sake! What was so bloody confusing about that?
She needed to talk to Severus, share the ludicrousness of the situation with him. He'd be able to appreciate just how stupid people were being.
Though, there was a knot in the pit of her stomach when she thought of sharing the joke. Her throat went dry at the thought of it. Suddenly the deduction of house points didn't seem to matter.
Title: Loyal, Always
I'm in you,
More so when they put me in the ground
He flicked a twig at the white marble and watched it bounce off the environmental protection charm.
"Fuck, Albus," the dour man muttered. "How am I supposed to get out of this one?"
He sat on the ground digging his heels into the dirt and thought about his latest conversation with Hermione. He'd said more than he intended.
Long moments passed in the quiet stillness. He could almost see the twinkle in his eye.
"Why would you want to get out of Love, my dear boy? It's the reason we're here. It's the reason you fought to so hard."
Title: The End of the Beginning
Those days, days, days,
Run away like horses over the hill
"Oh, I don't know. We might make a passable couple." He wasn't looking at her, stirring the cauldron, adding the lacewing flies.
"You can be charming and sweet when you so choose."
"You can occasionally neglect your need to be right all the time."
"Somewhere, very deep down, I think you care."
"And it bubbles forth more often that strictly necessary, trust me."
She was right behind him now, close. "And you are wickedly intelligent."
He raised an eyebrow and craned his neck around. "Are you referring to the colloquial sense or the traditional?"
"Both," she grinned, stepping even closer.