Challenge #59: The Bad News Challenge Someone gets some bad news. What the news is, and who is involved, is up to you.
Title: An Unwanted Missive
Rating: G
A/N: 32 minutes. An attempt at putting Snape into a comical situation.
A loud avian shriek shot through the air, and Severus Snape glanced up from his place at the High Table in time to see a large charcoal-colored bird sweep imperiously into the Hall. It was momentarily followed by many others; clearly, the day's mail had arrived.
The Potions Master watched as the black owl winged a circle before landing beside his plate. It raised a leg and brandished a rolled piece of parchment at its surly master, who took it with a sigh. "What have you brought me now, Archipelago?" he asked, spotting the imprint of a wasp pressed into the wax seal. "Certainly no good news."
Hooting dolefully, the owl dipped its beak into a glass of water and rose once more into the air, but Severus took no notice. Breaking the seal and unrolling the missive, dark eyes picked over the ridiculously fancy cursive, his attention caught by phrases here and there. It was not long before a black scowl affixed itself to his features.
Dearest Severus
It's been such a dreadfully long time since last I heard from you! Honestly, can't you even make the effort to pick up a quill and write a 'hello' every now and then? What can be so terribly important in those dank dungeons of yours that takes precedence over the outside world? Of course, I don't mean to chastise you, but really ...
At any rate, it is my sincerest hope that you are faring well. I heard what a frightful illness you came down with this past July -
Illness? Severus' brows knitted together. Any illness he'd supposedly contracted was news to him. To his knowledge (which, he thought with a twinge of annoyance, was highly credible, as it was his health, after all) he had experienced no such illness, unless the cough he'd had towards the end of the month could now be counted as such. But then he considered the source; this particular letter-writer did have quite a flair for exaggeration.
You really must learn to take your health into consideration -- you know, you aren't getting any younger, Severus (forgive me, but 'Professor' really is much too formal a title for you) and it would be most unfortunate to have you prematurely dead.
Ah, and there were the sickeningly sweet proclamations of concern for his well-being. How often had he made this correspondent aware that he had no use for such declarations of solicitude? Lifting a slice of toast to his mouth, he took a bite, moved on to the next paragraph -- and proceeded to choke of his breakfast.
Just wanted to drop you an owl, 'Professor,' to inform you that I am coming for a visit, and will be arriving soon. Severus, I can just picture the look that has crossed your face at reading this, but before you explode, know that I have already owled Headmaster Dumbledore, and he has welcomed me most warmly.
Oh, but you must look like a great feathered bird at the moment, all fluffed up and furious. Do forgive me for saying so, but there's no use sulking -
And that just went to show how well the sender knew him. Hunching his shoulders against the many audacities committed against him, the professor sent a bitter glare down the length of the table to where the Headmaster sat. It did not go unnoticed that the man appeared to be avoiding his narrowed stare. He wondered how long the pair of conspirators had been in contact -- surely not since the last visit? Oh, would he have some strong words for old Albus once he managed to corner him alone. No matter what the old man had promised, there was no way Severus would stomach such a visit.
Oh, but Sev! You're angry with me now because I haven't given you the proper advanced warning -- I know how you hate surprises -- but think about it! We'll have such fun; just like old times! You'll take me out, of course ... not to those seedy pubs you dragged me on my previous visit to the school, but really out. Perhaps the theater? And I do hope you've learned the polka by now, you know it's always been my favorite.
Must be off -- there's so much to do in preparation, what with packing and such, although I wouldn't expect you to understand such trivial matters. I suspect you don't get out much. Oh yes -- and Auntie Cassia sends her regards. Speaking of which, have you done something recently to anger her? She seems a bit miffed at you, if you catch my meaning, but whatever you've done this time, God love you for a fool!
The angry pounding of a fist against the table sent his goblet flying off the edge, but the snarl Severus emitted caused poor Professor Flitwick to fall from the stack of cushions piled high on his chair.
"Really, Severus, must you?" the tiny wizard asked as he got to his feet, a hand pressed against his chest. But then he spotted the feminine script and grinned roguishly. "Ah, you old dog! I never would have pegged you as having a piece on the sly! Your female giving you trouble, boy?"
"She's not my female," Severus growled in disgust, "and I pity the man who's coerced into marrying her."
Sneering out over the Great Hall, he spotted the Headmaster edging his way towards the door, shooting him furtive glances. So the old man thought he'd be able to sneak away, did he? Crumpling the letter and stuffing it into a pocket of his robes, he stood so suddenly his chair fell over backwards. With the words "Your Darling Sister for Always, Lucia Vespasia" sticking into his mind, he set off across the Hall, determined to catch up to the meddlesome old goat.
