Day: One A
Chapter: One
Chapter Title: A Shortage of Shortbread.
Time and Date: Tuesday 8 Oct. (Harry's fifth year) 4pm.
Severus Snape was, for lack of a better word, snuggled up, amidst his robes and a cup of coffee laced with FireWhiskey.
It was barely two weeks into the start of term and already Umbridge was the High Inquisitor! 'She'll be the Headmistress at the end of the year at the rate she's going!' Snape mused, as he sat being warmed by the small fire in the hearth.
Within the make-shift staff-room, as the real one was occupied by Umbridge, there was not only him, but the four other heads of house; Filius, Minerva and Pomona; but also Cuthbert, Hagrid and Albus.
Merlin help them if they though he was going to socialise!
And how on Earth had the Great Oaf got in here without that dreaded Pink creature noticing?
Granted, yes, Severus admired a man who could stand up to Albus; but he despised the Umbridge woman as she was, quite frankly, intolerable. She was not only incessantly annoying, (!) Pink (!), and falsely cheery; but she stood for the very Ministry that Severus so despised.
Before she had even so much as said 'Hello' Severus knew they would not get on that well, but then-! He doubted he would ever forget their first meeting.
He had just got up at the end of Albus's start of term staff meeting, and Umbridge came directly over to him as he was getting his mug (for the cup of coffee that he always took. It infuriated him every time that he let Minerva get his cup for him (for Albus banned (physically, magic did not work) magic within the staff room) she came back with tea. Blasted cat-women and their tea!) and she had said, "Why, you must tell me, how is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Oh yes, that's right; He's Dead. For over fifteen years now." Then Umbridge had given her infuriating little giggle- and was gone. To annoy somebody else, he hoped.
Severus now, bathed in the luxury that was the bottle of FireWhiskey floating towards him. He readily promised himself he would never enter another room willingly again if Umbridge was in it.
Today had been, horrendous.
To think- not only had she brought the Pink into his dungeons, she had mocked him in front of his students, turned Neville into even more of a nervous wreck, a) devoiding him of a job and b) spoiling what could have been a good potion as Granger was helping the walking lard of- the boy.
Severus scowled. He needed a holiday. A proper 'I-can-do-what-I-want' turning-the-floo-off-on-you,-my-Lord. He sneered at the mental image, before berating himself and hiding it behind numerous mental shields. Good Merlin above if The Dark Lord should see that!
Albus sat there, opposite him, watching his spy of fifteen-almost sixteen years. Almost cause for a celebration! Lemon drops all round!
And yet- the sallow skinned man looked liked he needed nothing more than a massage and a hot bath. Albus tried to tweak the mental image a bit- he doubted the Potions Master would enjoy a fluffy bath-robe and a rubber duck. Albus looked down within his mental image - or giant sheepskin slippers. Definitely wouldn't like the pink. Not after Umbridge anyway.
Oh! -The joys of being Headmaster- Dumbledore himself got the pleasure of telling the High Inquisitors results. Whoopi-ay-ae. Albus gave a smirk almost as good as Severus.
'What.' Why was the old man smirking at him? Had he- Merling forbid- a stupid moustache from the coffee like Albus had from his whipped cream (ontop of the cream and chocolate sprinkled onto his Hot Chocolate. Honestly- the day that mans teeth fell out would be the day that Severus finally did the unthinkable- it would be the day he smiled in public.). Severus gingerly brought out a hanky and wiped it along his upper lip; nothing.
Now the man was smirking at his shoes- what?
'Albus? What planet are you on?' Severus almost had half a mind to -
"What?" He snapped, as someone tapped him on the shoulder. "Don't touch me, woman." He scowled. "Oh." She was holding out the teapot. "Well- you could have just levitated it." There we go- as good as an apology. Severus smirked as Minerva suddenly looked like one of the seventh years- realising when they got told to do lines it was not technically against the rules to charm the quill to copy it out several hundred times.
"Well, yes. Of course. How ... silly of me." Minerva babbled.
'Think before you speak, Merlin's Cauldron! They were all mad today!'
"And uh- Severus?"
The tender tone in her voice made him balk. 'Good Merlin Above. What did she want? A vital body organ or just an emotion?'
"How did it go today?" She whispered, sitting on the table opposite him.
'Oh.' Phew, 'just that then'. "Umbridge is.." He searched for a fitting adjective. Annoying? - too childish. This woman had years of practise. Insufferable? - no, 'cause you _had_ to suffer through it! "Impossible."
Minerva smirked, she knew the feeling. The job interview was hard enough!
"I have never, in all my years of teaching, found a student; let alone adult, so difficult, so positivly infuriating, to work with." Severus allowed his annoyance to slip from him to his words.
Albus, by now quite over his mental images of Severus in varying bath robes, and having found some matching slippers (dark blue, flannel, with a black starry border), offered his two sickles to the conversation. "Come now, she can't be that difficult! She used to work at the Ministry!"
"She still does." Gritted Severus and (sighed) Minerva at the same time.
"Heh heh!" Albus chortled, pleased to see the two houses working together for a common aim, even if it was against him.
"Albus- I just really don't see how you can put her against the students. They don't have enough practise in the Dark Arts to fight her off." Severus almost whined.
He never whined.
"But the woman in honestly impossible. She states the obvious like it is a dubious thing, for example, 'Did I get the DADA post this year?' Hmm... what am I doing, in the dungeons, surrounded by potions, and what's your job, wench?" Severus raged, his voice low albeit full of anger.
"Hush, Severus." Albus smiled, too amused by his teaching staff's antics the opposite side of the room (can you get a fire whisky bottle to balance on your nose? Rolanda had entered the room not so long ago, and was in a furious battle with Filius) to really pay attention. "Her main pointers were to help those who need helping, and more theory." With that, Albus patted Severus on the shoulder, and got up to join the (slightly tipsey) teachers the other side of the room.
After all, what was a Friday without a little fun? (And as Rolanda repeatedly told everyone, Sundays were for marking, Saturdays for hang overs).
Severus however, slouched back in his seat, leaving his FireWhiskey (and coffee) floating where his hand had been several moments ago. "I give up, Minerva." He wearily admitted, eyes closed.
"Nay Severus! Where's the Slytherin pride?" Minerva tried, jauntily.
"It saw the Pink and fled." He replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice (feeling better already).
"Hmm... Slytherin don't give up, Severus. Goodness knows I've told enough off for doing so."
Severus raised an eyebrow, and opened said eye at the Gryffindor.
"For not bowing down to authority, for continuing to argue back." She reiterated.
Severus nodded slowly, a smirk racing across his face.
"Hmm.. yes well." Minerva smiled, watching Severus's stone cold emotions break through.
He was a hard man, but by no means as unreasonable as he pretended to be. At times he could be rude- but couldn't everyone? And just because he preferred to read rather than to fly (as the man could do so without a broom, where was the fun in Quidditch?) does that mean that he should get a reputation as a boring old dungeon bat who hates festivities?
Minerva didn't so; much to the man in question's annoyance.
'Well, at least she wasn't talking anymore' Severus thought, watching her thoughtful face as she watched Albus balance a wine-bottle on his nose and spin on the spot.
"Oh, should Umbridge come in now." Severus almost feverishly wished. Her reaction would be, priceless.
"Heh heh, yes." Minerva laughed a little, the thoughtful look still on her face, almost sounding reminiscent.
"You can go join them. I don't need a baby-sitter." Severus sneered, though slightly offended. 'What, his company wasn't good enough?' Not that he didn't think so himself, but it wasn't good enough for a Gryffindor?
"No! No! Not that at all! I was just... come the final battle, who will be the first to go?" She asked, watching the Old Headmaster laugh with a twinkle in his eye, then look earnestly to Severus.
The man twitched. 'What?' How should he know? It was the Lions who gave the reassurances, not him! He was a Slytherin! A deceitful, lying, manipulative little- "Someone from their side, one would hope." He replied, his voice echoing hers; a little quieter, a little sombre.
"'Theirs'?" She echoed, not sure which side that meant he was on.
"Theirs." He confirmed, absent-mindedly rubbing his hand along the mark on his arm, "The side which seek to dominate. That which we fight against." For some reason, Severus could not bring himself to say the name right now.
Good Merlin above! He was turning as sentimental as the Gryffindor himself! What the devil was going on?
Could he expect himself to start bring bouquets of flowers to the Death Eater meetings as well? Perhaps a lone rose for Lucius's long, luscious hair? 'Woah! That was a step too far!'
Minerva smiled in front of him, not so much with her mouth as with her eyes. "Thank you Severus." She breathed, laying a hand upon his arm. She then used said arm to push herself up, and walked over to her original sofa, where surprise-surprise the box of shortbread was.
'She always got the shortbread.' Not that Severus Snape was complaining about shortbread.
Not so much complaining as smouldering.
Not about shortbread either. About Minerva. About his own weakness in saying the Dark Lord's name. About Minerva thinking he was being (mental shiver) nice.
'Merlin help me. Things have just gone from bad to worse'.
A burst of lightening hot pain shot through his left arm, taking him unawares.
A raggedy gasp caught the attention of Minerva, and she looked over to see Severus, clutching at his arm momentarily, a look of pure terror upon his face.
'Come to mee...' a demonic voice hissed, intruding into Severus's head. Then he felt as if his mind was being swirled around, and he heard an almost unhuman... giggle. 'And bring some shortbread.' it added, in a surprisingly jovial after thought.
