"What!" Snape shouted in response to the knock at his door. It wasn't even
a question, but the visitor creaked the door open anyway. Snape turned at
his desk, but did not get up. "Dear God, Malfoy, can't your sucking up
wait 'til tomorrow?"
Malfoy smiled. "I just wanted to say hello, Sir, since I didn't get to what with you being late to the banquet and all."
"Hello, Malfoy. Now get out. And do me the favour of going to visit every other professor to give them your greetings. Right. Now."
"But, Sir, it's --"
"Out, Malfoy," Snape replied in a velvety voice. He smiled to himself when he heard the door close. That boy. He was both boring and dangerous, and would probably loose Slytherin 50 points by morning if he bothered to follow instructions. His house would make that up in a week from Potions alone, and with any luck would take Malfoy down a peg.
He turned back to the syllabi he was preparing and sighed. This was always the worst night of the year, waiting to see what new idiots he was going to have to teach. Although, one of the few benefits of the Weasleys, Potter, and that damned Granger and her ratty hair was that it would be very difficult for things to get much worse. Thank Merlin Neville Longbottom didn't have siblings.
Snape crossed his rooms to pour himself a glass of wine. He studied the cabinet over his small bar as he did, noting the yearbooks from his years as a student. Setting the wine down, he pulled one out and brought it over to the table where he'd been working. He flipped past his own year quickly, there weren't many faces there he felt like remembering these days, and then perused the younger students. Eventually he found Allosia's picture, but could not bring himself to look directly at it, instead, being somewhat amused, and most definitely pained by what she had written there just before he had departed. "How much you do not know." She had only meant to be cruel, and at the time, he was merely embarrassed for her. Allosia had turned out to be right of course, although he did not know to what degree she was aware of that.
Absently, he ran a finger along the edge of her picture, remembering the long hair she had had as a student. "Stupid girl," he said with some small malice, before slapping the book shut. "Stupid boy, too," he added before returning to his syllabi and glass of wine.
Malfoy smiled. "I just wanted to say hello, Sir, since I didn't get to what with you being late to the banquet and all."
"Hello, Malfoy. Now get out. And do me the favour of going to visit every other professor to give them your greetings. Right. Now."
"But, Sir, it's --"
"Out, Malfoy," Snape replied in a velvety voice. He smiled to himself when he heard the door close. That boy. He was both boring and dangerous, and would probably loose Slytherin 50 points by morning if he bothered to follow instructions. His house would make that up in a week from Potions alone, and with any luck would take Malfoy down a peg.
He turned back to the syllabi he was preparing and sighed. This was always the worst night of the year, waiting to see what new idiots he was going to have to teach. Although, one of the few benefits of the Weasleys, Potter, and that damned Granger and her ratty hair was that it would be very difficult for things to get much worse. Thank Merlin Neville Longbottom didn't have siblings.
Snape crossed his rooms to pour himself a glass of wine. He studied the cabinet over his small bar as he did, noting the yearbooks from his years as a student. Setting the wine down, he pulled one out and brought it over to the table where he'd been working. He flipped past his own year quickly, there weren't many faces there he felt like remembering these days, and then perused the younger students. Eventually he found Allosia's picture, but could not bring himself to look directly at it, instead, being somewhat amused, and most definitely pained by what she had written there just before he had departed. "How much you do not know." She had only meant to be cruel, and at the time, he was merely embarrassed for her. Allosia had turned out to be right of course, although he did not know to what degree she was aware of that.
Absently, he ran a finger along the edge of her picture, remembering the long hair she had had as a student. "Stupid girl," he said with some small malice, before slapping the book shut. "Stupid boy, too," he added before returning to his syllabi and glass of wine.
