Waiting Game
by Darklady
Disclaimer: JKR owns - Darklady moans.
Slash?: Technically? Yes. But not yet. LOL
Rated: Barely PG (Only because I don't *do* G. )But I still wouldn't recommend it for children. So make it PG-13.
Note: Yes - I know that I'm stealing the worlds oldest and dumbest joke. What do you expect for a quickie? (The fic - I mean. *grin* ) Just having fun with a fan-fic cliche.
Archive: Why? But if for some strange reason you want to - as always - ask and you shall receive.
~HP~*~SS~*~HP~*~SS~*~HP~*~SS~
"What da ya think yer doing?"
Argus Flitch stood in the doorway to the Potion's Lab, the once empty center of which was not occupied by a Merlin-sized four poster bed. To one side sat a frosted ice bucket, filled with ice and several unopened bottles of very fine champagne. At the other, a makeshift nightstand ( adapted out of a spare workbench ) held scarves, two pairs of handcuffs, and several unmarked bottles of strangely sparkling potions. The cluster all but blocked his view of the Potions Professor (the only person who *should* have been in the room) working industriously at the one unaltered lab table along the far wall.
"Right now?" Harry Potter - stocking feet propped up on the large pile of velvet pillows stacked at he head of the bed - waved a crumpled copy of 'Stick and Snitch' at the bemused custodian. "Reading."
"Strange place for a Library." Flitch snorted. "Not to mention ya ought to be gone to town with the other students."
"Not when I'm..." Harry nodded at his apparently oblivious Potions Professor. "Not done here yet."
"Not done with what?"
"Come now, Flitch." Snape had paused slightly at the interruption, but now turned his attention back to the meticulous movements of his silver knife. "Surely even you are aware of the.. restrictions ... the Founders placed on our students... social life."
Well perhaps not, given that even at sixteen Flitch might not have had a date to strike out *with*. No. Even that rabid mutt had managed to have the occasional luck. At least, once he had got past the Chasticus Charm that 'protected' the underaged. A charm the male students referred to - with several levels of frustration - as Helga Hufflepuff's Horrible Hard-On Hamperer.
"Tha they cant get up ta... well, ya know ... until they are of age an' not the schools problem."
"Precisely." Snape favored the explanation with the narrow smirk that was a close as he came to approbation.
Flitch shook his head. "Wha's that got to do with this strangeness."
Turning to Harry, he added. "All the more reason I figured you'd be off to Rosmerta's place."
Harry just rolled over, snuggling more firmly into the lush bedding.
"Whatever the attractions Miss Rosmerta and her... friends... may possess.." Snape's tone implied more then words ever could that said attractions were at best faint and more likely lacking. At least from a certain Slytherin's indismissable point of view. "It turns out that Mr. Potter there was born at exactly 11:15 PM. So while his birthday party may have been this afternoon, the spell itself is a bit more.... precise. It will not release him until he is of age indeed."
"So?" Flitch scratched his head.
Snape turned the desk clock, showing it's single hand tickling slowly from 'Horney' towards 'Time to Shag'.
"So - for precisely the next hour and seventeen minutes , I am going to be peeling shrivelfigs while Mr. Potter there reads his Quidditch magazine."
~HP~*~SS~*~HP~*~SS~*~HP~*~SS~
KKR 2003
Disclaimer: JKR owns - Darklady moans.
Slash?: Technically? Yes. But not yet. LOL
Rated: Barely PG (Only because I don't *do* G. )But I still wouldn't recommend it for children. So make it PG-13.
Note: Yes - I know that I'm stealing the worlds oldest and dumbest joke. What do you expect for a quickie? (The fic - I mean. *grin* ) Just having fun with a fan-fic cliche.
Archive: Why? But if for some strange reason you want to - as always - ask and you shall receive.
~HP~*~SS~*~HP~*~SS~*~HP~*~SS~
"What da ya think yer doing?"
Argus Flitch stood in the doorway to the Potion's Lab, the once empty center of which was not occupied by a Merlin-sized four poster bed. To one side sat a frosted ice bucket, filled with ice and several unopened bottles of very fine champagne. At the other, a makeshift nightstand ( adapted out of a spare workbench ) held scarves, two pairs of handcuffs, and several unmarked bottles of strangely sparkling potions. The cluster all but blocked his view of the Potions Professor (the only person who *should* have been in the room) working industriously at the one unaltered lab table along the far wall.
"Right now?" Harry Potter - stocking feet propped up on the large pile of velvet pillows stacked at he head of the bed - waved a crumpled copy of 'Stick and Snitch' at the bemused custodian. "Reading."
"Strange place for a Library." Flitch snorted. "Not to mention ya ought to be gone to town with the other students."
"Not when I'm..." Harry nodded at his apparently oblivious Potions Professor. "Not done here yet."
"Not done with what?"
"Come now, Flitch." Snape had paused slightly at the interruption, but now turned his attention back to the meticulous movements of his silver knife. "Surely even you are aware of the.. restrictions ... the Founders placed on our students... social life."
Well perhaps not, given that even at sixteen Flitch might not have had a date to strike out *with*. No. Even that rabid mutt had managed to have the occasional luck. At least, once he had got past the Chasticus Charm that 'protected' the underaged. A charm the male students referred to - with several levels of frustration - as Helga Hufflepuff's Horrible Hard-On Hamperer.
"Tha they cant get up ta... well, ya know ... until they are of age an' not the schools problem."
"Precisely." Snape favored the explanation with the narrow smirk that was a close as he came to approbation.
Flitch shook his head. "Wha's that got to do with this strangeness."
Turning to Harry, he added. "All the more reason I figured you'd be off to Rosmerta's place."
Harry just rolled over, snuggling more firmly into the lush bedding.
"Whatever the attractions Miss Rosmerta and her... friends... may possess.." Snape's tone implied more then words ever could that said attractions were at best faint and more likely lacking. At least from a certain Slytherin's indismissable point of view. "It turns out that Mr. Potter there was born at exactly 11:15 PM. So while his birthday party may have been this afternoon, the spell itself is a bit more.... precise. It will not release him until he is of age indeed."
"So?" Flitch scratched his head.
Snape turned the desk clock, showing it's single hand tickling slowly from 'Horney' towards 'Time to Shag'.
"So - for precisely the next hour and seventeen minutes , I am going to be peeling shrivelfigs while Mr. Potter there reads his Quidditch magazine."
~HP~*~SS~*~HP~*~SS~*~HP~*~SS~
KKR 2003