Disclaimer: Anything related to the Harry Potter franchise is copyrighted and owned by J.K Rowling. As much I dream of owning it, I sadly don't. I am just borrowing the characters to play out this story
Hatchling
Summary: Professor Snape gets exposed to a faulty potion that leads to interesting results
Notes: AU, set during the Book 5.
"Speech"
'Thoughts'
Without further adieu, I bid you Dear Reader a welcome to my made up world.
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Darkness…
That what was all he saw.
Blackness…
Wrapping him in suffocating comfort.
He groaned as he rubbed his face wearily.
Climbing out of his bed a spasm raked his body nearly sending him to his knees. A hiss and string of curses followed echoing through the hollow room.
Unsteadily he climbed to his feet leaning heavily on the bedpost. He gingerly limped to the solitary worktable in the far corner.
Cursing the distance as his vision started to swim and darkness started to tinge his eyesight. With a final push he collapsed on the table sending bottles crashing haphazardly to the ground.
Franticly he grasped an amber flask, tearing the stop off, chucking the contents greedily. With every swallow, his muscles started to relax, his spasms lessened in intensity.
Lowering the flask from his white lips, letting it fall to the ground, he collapsed weakly by the table. Resting his head by one of its legs, closing his eyes as the potion started to dull the pain.
Minutes of silence followed, punctured only by weak whizzing breaths.
A shrill bell jarred him from his moments of peaceful numbness.
Cursing ruthlessly he pushed himself up, leaning heavily on the table, and surveyed the damage. His robes were soaked in a mixture of potions and lost half of his emergency brew.
Growling in frustration as he saw some of the mixture started to smoke and burn the stone floor, he limped to his bed, grabbed his wand from under his pillow.
Muttering a cleansing and neutralizing spell he limped towards the bathroom. Discarding his soaked robe in a vat of neutralizing potions and he jumped in the shower. Hot water blasted him, singeing his skin. Wincing he kept still.
10 minutes later, he emerged wet, and a bit redder. Dressing hurriedly he donned his black robes. Fastening the clasp he glimpsed his profile on the solitarily mirror.
Black hair, black eyes, black circles and pale-ish skin.
"At least I do not look like the dead anymore" he muttered running a hand through his sodden hair.
Slipping into his black leather shoes, he summoned a house-elf. The thing popped into existence, trembling at the sight of his summoner
Growling his instruction, the man stalked out of his room, barely managing to hide the limp and wince with every step.
Stopping momentary in front the door leading to the rest of the castle. He steeled his shoulders, placing a menacing scowl on his face, before flinging the doors open and stalking out. His robes bellowing behind, giving him an illusion of devil wings, raised from the depths of hell.
Severus Snape, Professor of Potions has left his lair and is not one bit happy about it.
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