Chapter 6
The quill danced across the parchment, lit by the soft candlelight. Snape added one last full stop and put down the quill. He sighed, and wearily rose from his chair, snuffing out the candle on his way to the door. He pondered briefly whether people with Down syndrome were allowed to drink alcohol, but the thought quickly vanished when his stomach gave a mighty rumble, demanding to be filled with the juicy sausage awaiting him in the Great Hall. Snape marched from the room and strode down the corridors, his pace quickening with a growing hunger.
Snape entered the Great Hall and took in the mournful décor of the room. Each houses table was draped in black, with both Hagrid and Flitwick's portraits standing side by side in their usual spots at the high table. As Snape sat in his usual place at the table, his eyes scanned the room for that raven black hair, those emerald green eyes and that smooth, marbled skin. His eyes darted up and down the unusually subdued Gryffindor table but to no avail. Snape quickly forgot about the half eaten sausage lying withered in his hand and stood up abruptly. Intuition told him Harry was in trouble. Snape swept from the table, knocking Hagrid's and Flitwick's portraits from their seats in his haste. Snape noted that they would have wanted it this way anyway as the two images toppled on top of each other.
Snape left the castle, silently slipping through the great oak doors. As his eyes fixed on the lake, sheathed in moonlight, Snape suddenly remembered the dream he'd had last night. He and Harry were entwined on a white blanket beside that very same lake. But in this vision, there was a crimson patch of blood on Harry's crotch. Snape was taken aback. This wasn't how he remembered the dream. There had to be something wrong. He hadn't trained so hard to become adept at Legilimency for nothing. As he thought this, he heard a blood curdling cackling and watched in dismay as a bloodied Hermione skipped across the lawn, carrying something in her hand. Snape drew into the shadows to watch as Hermione flopped to the ground, laughing maniacally. She raised whatever was in her hand to her face, and began to smear the bloody organ in ritualistic patterns across her face. Snape crept closer and almost gagged, only managing to stop himself at the last second. Hermione had in her hand a phallus. That same phallus was a pale alabaster and sprayed with a selection of glossy, raven black hair. It could only belong to one wizard. Snape had not imagined his first time seeing Harry's ding-dong in this manner. Snape let out an almost inaudible whimper as Hermione raised the wang to her mouth and bit deep into the flesh. Snape was forced to cower in the shadows until Hermione had finished her divine meal. As soon as Hermione finished and returned to the castle, Snape set across the grass at a run, following his heart like a compass.