Challenge #4: What would Firenze make of Mars being bright, and what does this bode for our favorite characters? Write a ficlet about what the centaur sees, what actually happens, and if he ends up being right.
Title: Mars Is Bright Tonight
Rating: PG
The centaur paused as he stepped to the edge of the forest, reveling in the caress of the night's soft breeze against his bare torso and the rustle of leaves overhead. Stars twinkled in the inky darkness above, and he nodded in approval at the cloudless sky. He waited a moment before proceeding cautiously forward, feeling the earth shift from loamy soil to dewy grass beneath his hooves. When finally he stood in the center of the meadow, he raised his majestic head to gaze upon the infinite universe.
Immediately he noticed – Mars was bright.
The sound of a snapping twig broke harshly through the silence a few moments later, followed by the shuffling of the heavy, booted feet of the Hogwarts groundskeeper. "Evenin' Firenze," Hagrid said in greeting, emerging from the wood and approaching the centaur carefully. "Did'n' expect nobody to be aroun' so late an' all. 'S not any trouble brewin' with yer folk now, is there?"
"Mars is bright tonight," came the response. After a moment, the centaur lowered his eyes to meet the gaze of the giant hybrid. "Mars is bright," he repeated. "The heavens show this to be a night of revelation. One shall see that which shall come to be desired, whilst another shall be laid bare before both foe and ally."
Hagrid shifted his weight uneasily, passing his bow from one hand to the other. "Righ', well, I'll jus' be gettin' back then ... would'n' want ter disturb yeh none ... g'night, Firenze."
---
"For the love of Merlin, can't you bloody KNOCK?!"
Fleeing from the first floor bath reserved for professors' use only, Severus Snape hastily pulled the heavy door closed behind him just moments before a thunderous bang sounded from within and thick plumes of gray smoke belched from beneath the door in looping scarlet curls. Heaving a sigh and slumping against the cool stone of the wall, the professor swiped an arm across his perspiring forehead and silently thanked whatever gods-that-be for blessing him with impeccable reflexes. He held no reservations in his belief that had he been but a fraction of a second slower, the spell flung by his irate colleague would no doubt have landed him in the hospital wing for a week.
Placing a hand to his chest, he slowly and methodically worked to even the pace of his breathing; however, the rapid drum of his heart beneath his pale fingertips adamantly refused to abate in its intensity. "Oh, come now," he muttered as he straightened his robes. He felt more than a bit flustered by the entire situation and attempted to reason with himself. "It isn't as though there was even all that much of interest to see."
A pause. "Then again," Severus thought aloud, pushing away from the wall with a newly-forming grin on his lips, "when it comes to her, apparently there is much more to see than one would think." And so he headed gaily down the dungeon stairwell toward his rooms, a surprisingly superb image of a very enraged – and very naked – Minerva McGonagall emblazoned clearly in his mind. Clearly, he'd have to remember to forget to knock more often.
