Chapter 9-Swift as a shadow, short as any dream...revelations and betterment occur
A/N: Thanks again all! I never thought I would get so many reviews. Just goes to show you how many Slashy Shippers there are out there! ~*Harry Slash: Boyz will be boyz..*~ ::grin:: And I know you were waiting for it so I put two nice things in here for you. Buh-bye Draco! Adios! Aloha! And Helloooo Snape! A big event/surprise/nail-biter is going to happen in the next chapter so stay tuned. Hope you like all the little couples I've put in there and please, more feedback, it feeds the plotbunnies and sometimes my writing sense. Thanks again soo much to all of you!-*AO (P.S. ~F~ Here, just for you. Hope it makes ya happier, hah hah!)
Chapter 9
-
Snape called the cast in for rehearsal the moment after double Potion's with the Slytherin's let out. They were going to do the final scene in the entire play, and towards the end of the night, would have all the little 1^st years running and dancing about as they giggled and blessed the lovers. Snape had outlined it for them the night before, after the `fight scene' (in Act 3, when the bewitched Demetrius and Lysander both fight over Helena, leaving her mad at them and Hermia mad at all three of them) which still had to be worked on as Seamus and Ron would always burst out laughing at inopportune moments and get them all giggling, with the exception of Snape. Their director explained that it would involve an immense dance, in which strategically placed seeds and plants would be placed by the crew members around the theater, and the children, elves, fairies, Titania and Oberon would send the whole place into starry, sparkling, enchanted bloom. Puck would be laughing and
lounging about and finally would, as the fairies either nodded into sleep or faded when specific lights went down, walk casually to a vine that had been lowered front and center stage and sit or climb, standing on it and speak the final monologue to the audience before curtain call.
As he ran down from the Gryffindor wing with his script in hand he was suddenly pulled into a corner and gave a cry.
"Potter..." came the soft, sibilant hiss. Harry knew immediately who it was and turned to stare into the moon, pale eyes staring from the darkness. He swallowed, hard, as Draco stepped from the darkness.
Draco gave him a pouty look, a curl of a sneer playing in his lips.
"Now, Harry, you haven't been showing to meet me. I've quite missed you...I don't think you can forget our memories so easily..." Being on the receiving end of quite a few dirty looks during classes, Harry knew that Draco was upset with him. Why? He wondered, What did we have? Nothing. Passion, but nothing else.
"I know, Draco, it's just..." words failed him and Draco narrowed his eyes, tilting his head dangerously. He sauntered towards Harry, studying him hard. He immediately came forward and kissed him, hard, on the lips. He broke away, stepping back and Draco's mouth grew into a hard line.
"Oh. I see. It's perfectly clear." His face grew quite pale and he began to walk towards him, "I guess if you didn't like it..." he snarled at Harry who felt like trembling but only jutted his chin out. Draco stalked past him and it was then that Harry notice the dark circles under Draco's eyes as he walked and went down the hall, giving a shaky cough.
Taking a shivery breath, Harry fell against the wall. While he did like it, he felt good to be out of it.
Wait, he thought, was I ever in it?
-
The next two weeks went quicker than ever, rehearsals getting smoother and smoother, Snape warming to the students as they flourished into their parts. Even Neville did well, causing quite a few titters as he acted the part of Francis Flute, who, in the end has to dress up as a girl. Snape gave him the rare shadow of a smile and the room went silent. Fred and George just shrugged and continued the scene.
They had given Cho her wings a few times, to see how they worked, as they finished the basics for her first. Snowy white, huge, feathery yet fluffy and sleek, they gave her every impression of a nymph goddess, and took everyone's breath away, including Snape, when she first entered.
Draco, getting over Harry's feelings rather quickly, seemed to be running down slightly. He had to keep up with Harry now, the circles growing larger and he more lethargic. However, he did enjoy using the technique Professor McGonagall had taught him for some of his scenes of making a rather large BANG of purple smoke and startling people.
Scenery, set pieces, and effects went into high gear, working late into the night, McGonagall tending to snap at Oliver when he came to check off on his lists and bring separate props out to the actors. Angelina and Alicia had been breaking down more often when it came to Fred and George, and often groups of first years who were fairies and elves would catch them in a passionate session of giggling and kissing behind Titania's wings.
It took a while to find other relationships, but they flourished. And two people kept poking into one, growing closer to each other than they ever thought possible.
Cupid was a knavish lad.
-
Harry knew it was late, but he had to go down to the dungeons. Snape had told them in Potions that the next day at rehearsal, there would be no scripts on the stage. Lupin and Oliver had told everyone to leave their scripts in Snapes office so it could be assured that no one was `on-book'. He had hoped to go down after lunch, but had to review his lines and after dinner, Hermoine and Ron had asked him to help practice scenes with him. So here he was at the door and, taking a deep breath, he entered the dark dungeon. Three scripts held tightly in palm, the illustrations on the front escaping into the woods. Harry smirked, remembering the look that Ron and Hermoine had given him as he asked them to come down with them. Ron had given him an impatient look and Hermoine got him out of the room with an emphatic nod. He imagined the two of them were snogging in the Gryffindor common room as he thought and didn't blame them.
Sighing, he walked past the shadows of desks and gleaming walls and jars, eerie in the little-lit room. He approached the door to Snape's office and knocked. There was only silence. He knocked again, but still, no answer. The slowly, slightly cracked open so he took a deep breath and entered into the dark office.
Calm music was drifting slowly and he recognized it from the play. Two lone lights gave a hint of help in the dark room as he progressed onwards. Stopping at Snape's desk, he began to put the scripts on the pile when something caught his eyes.
He paused at the middle of the desk and peered won, past Snape's open script and onto what looked like a wizards photo album and his eyes goggled.
It looked like Snape, unless his eyes deceived him. His silky black locks were pulled loosely away from his face, eyes laughing, rimmed with smudged black kohl, carefully smoky streaks of deepest blue growing from the corners of his eyes, making them look more mysterious and lethal. Next to him was, well Harry couldn't deny it, it was his father, James. His laughing brown eyes glittered out of smeary brown eyeliner, green at the corners and blotting out from it, ending in a thin, sparkling emerald line. Both of the young men, they looked about 4 years older than he, had shimmer at well placed points on their faces, and Snape had a crown of stark black, wooden brading around his temples, while Harry's father had two small horns sticking out from his. It wasn't the both of them laughing and blinking out of the picture that unsettled Harry the most, it was their two hands at the bottom of it, which he noticed, were tenderly grasping each other and slightly swinging.
So it was possible then, Snape could reciprocate Harry's feelings. But would he? If he had liked James so much but been so hurt, than perhaps he would never like Harry, always seeing his father. Is that why he had made Harry Puck? Because of James?
This barrage of thoughts left him in one swift moment when he heard the door close and a soft purr escape over "Pavane for a dead princess" by Ravel.
"Ahem." Harry didn't know whether to spin swiftly or melt into a puddle right then and there. Just keep calm, he screamed to himself. The second option was out of a question.
"So, I finally catch you in the act this time, Potter." Snape said softly and came around back of him, sending Harry into uncontrollable shivers as his cloak whispered against his arm. Harry found he couldn't even stare at Snape this time, could only look at the ground.
"Sit down, Potter, I don't particularly enjoy watching you squirm."
"Oh really?" Harry bit out before he could stop himself and slapped a hand over his mouth, before dropping ashamedly into a chair. Snape opened his mouth to say something but before he could, he spotted the open photo-album and frowned.
"I see."
Harry began to tumble words out before he could stop himself, "I just was returning in my book to make sure you had it so you wouldn't be upset and Ron and Hermoine wanted theirs in and I just saw your door open and I-" Snape waved him away with an annoyed hand and an "Enough."
There was a quiet silence while Snape stared at his hands for a while and Harry squirmed slightly in his chair. Harry couldn't hold it in any longer and he burst out with:
"You liked my father then. In that picture. You were Oberon, he was Puck." He looked yearningly and Snape and his black eyes flickered, studying Harry hard and he found himself unable to look away.
"Yes. He, Professor Lupin, and I were all here over one summer and did the play together. He was quite good, almost beat me out of the part..." He smiled wryly, as if remembering something very far away. Harry waited for him to continue. "There was no Black that summer...your father was amazing, he captivated the audience, held all the girls aloft with each word, that was where he met your mother you know...The old Potion's Mistress, Arabella Figg, she directed it. Wizards everywhere came to see it..." Harry sat raptly while Snape's face grew into an uncharacteristic grin, soft and tender as if remembering something he had not thought of in a long time.
What happened? Harry wanted to scream out, What happened? But Snape said nothing more, only closing the album gently and took the scripts from in front of Harry.
"I don't think you'll have any trouble without your script, Potter. You're doing much better on the hanging and all. And your interaction with Malfoy has been...."
Tense, rough, sultry, Harry thought sullenly..
"...Admirable. Potter, I wish to tell you something in utmost confidence." Harry was sure he was leaning forwards in his seat as Snape began to speak very quietly. "What you do with Malfoy is your own business, but-," Harry's mouth dropped openly but he neatly closed it back as Snape gave him an incredulous look, "Oh come off it Potter, I know exactly what's going on." He cleared his throat and ran a finger down the spine of his script, causing Harry to grow fuzzy, "That, however, is besides the point. I just would warn you against getting involved with him. Malfoy's are not...good....good companions. And I don't want this jeopardizing our production," he added quickly. Harry blinked in amazement and sat back.
"I'm not with him, Professor. At least, well, not anymore, I suppose." Something passed over Snape's face, maybe relief, maybe excitement, anxiety, anticipation, Harry couldn't tell and fought the smile off of his face.
"Good to know, Potter. Now, if you please, we have a long night tomorrow and I wish you not to be completely exhausted." Harry nodded shyly and stepped from the chair, feeling Snape's eyes follow him as he grinned uncontrollably.
-
A/N: Thanks again all! I never thought I would get so many reviews. Just goes to show you how many Slashy Shippers there are out there! ~*Harry Slash: Boyz will be boyz..*~ ::grin:: And I know you were waiting for it so I put two nice things in here for you. Buh-bye Draco! Adios! Aloha! And Helloooo Snape! A big event/surprise/nail-biter is going to happen in the next chapter so stay tuned. Hope you like all the little couples I've put in there and please, more feedback, it feeds the plotbunnies and sometimes my writing sense. Thanks again soo much to all of you!-*AO (P.S. ~F~ Here, just for you. Hope it makes ya happier, hah hah!)
Chapter 9
-
Snape called the cast in for rehearsal the moment after double Potion's with the Slytherin's let out. They were going to do the final scene in the entire play, and towards the end of the night, would have all the little 1^st years running and dancing about as they giggled and blessed the lovers. Snape had outlined it for them the night before, after the `fight scene' (in Act 3, when the bewitched Demetrius and Lysander both fight over Helena, leaving her mad at them and Hermia mad at all three of them) which still had to be worked on as Seamus and Ron would always burst out laughing at inopportune moments and get them all giggling, with the exception of Snape. Their director explained that it would involve an immense dance, in which strategically placed seeds and plants would be placed by the crew members around the theater, and the children, elves, fairies, Titania and Oberon would send the whole place into starry, sparkling, enchanted bloom. Puck would be laughing and
lounging about and finally would, as the fairies either nodded into sleep or faded when specific lights went down, walk casually to a vine that had been lowered front and center stage and sit or climb, standing on it and speak the final monologue to the audience before curtain call.
As he ran down from the Gryffindor wing with his script in hand he was suddenly pulled into a corner and gave a cry.
"Potter..." came the soft, sibilant hiss. Harry knew immediately who it was and turned to stare into the moon, pale eyes staring from the darkness. He swallowed, hard, as Draco stepped from the darkness.
Draco gave him a pouty look, a curl of a sneer playing in his lips.
"Now, Harry, you haven't been showing to meet me. I've quite missed you...I don't think you can forget our memories so easily..." Being on the receiving end of quite a few dirty looks during classes, Harry knew that Draco was upset with him. Why? He wondered, What did we have? Nothing. Passion, but nothing else.
"I know, Draco, it's just..." words failed him and Draco narrowed his eyes, tilting his head dangerously. He sauntered towards Harry, studying him hard. He immediately came forward and kissed him, hard, on the lips. He broke away, stepping back and Draco's mouth grew into a hard line.
"Oh. I see. It's perfectly clear." His face grew quite pale and he began to walk towards him, "I guess if you didn't like it..." he snarled at Harry who felt like trembling but only jutted his chin out. Draco stalked past him and it was then that Harry notice the dark circles under Draco's eyes as he walked and went down the hall, giving a shaky cough.
Taking a shivery breath, Harry fell against the wall. While he did like it, he felt good to be out of it.
Wait, he thought, was I ever in it?
-
The next two weeks went quicker than ever, rehearsals getting smoother and smoother, Snape warming to the students as they flourished into their parts. Even Neville did well, causing quite a few titters as he acted the part of Francis Flute, who, in the end has to dress up as a girl. Snape gave him the rare shadow of a smile and the room went silent. Fred and George just shrugged and continued the scene.
They had given Cho her wings a few times, to see how they worked, as they finished the basics for her first. Snowy white, huge, feathery yet fluffy and sleek, they gave her every impression of a nymph goddess, and took everyone's breath away, including Snape, when she first entered.
Draco, getting over Harry's feelings rather quickly, seemed to be running down slightly. He had to keep up with Harry now, the circles growing larger and he more lethargic. However, he did enjoy using the technique Professor McGonagall had taught him for some of his scenes of making a rather large BANG of purple smoke and startling people.
Scenery, set pieces, and effects went into high gear, working late into the night, McGonagall tending to snap at Oliver when he came to check off on his lists and bring separate props out to the actors. Angelina and Alicia had been breaking down more often when it came to Fred and George, and often groups of first years who were fairies and elves would catch them in a passionate session of giggling and kissing behind Titania's wings.
It took a while to find other relationships, but they flourished. And two people kept poking into one, growing closer to each other than they ever thought possible.
Cupid was a knavish lad.
-
Harry knew it was late, but he had to go down to the dungeons. Snape had told them in Potions that the next day at rehearsal, there would be no scripts on the stage. Lupin and Oliver had told everyone to leave their scripts in Snapes office so it could be assured that no one was `on-book'. He had hoped to go down after lunch, but had to review his lines and after dinner, Hermoine and Ron had asked him to help practice scenes with him. So here he was at the door and, taking a deep breath, he entered the dark dungeon. Three scripts held tightly in palm, the illustrations on the front escaping into the woods. Harry smirked, remembering the look that Ron and Hermoine had given him as he asked them to come down with them. Ron had given him an impatient look and Hermoine got him out of the room with an emphatic nod. He imagined the two of them were snogging in the Gryffindor common room as he thought and didn't blame them.
Sighing, he walked past the shadows of desks and gleaming walls and jars, eerie in the little-lit room. He approached the door to Snape's office and knocked. There was only silence. He knocked again, but still, no answer. The slowly, slightly cracked open so he took a deep breath and entered into the dark office.
Calm music was drifting slowly and he recognized it from the play. Two lone lights gave a hint of help in the dark room as he progressed onwards. Stopping at Snape's desk, he began to put the scripts on the pile when something caught his eyes.
He paused at the middle of the desk and peered won, past Snape's open script and onto what looked like a wizards photo album and his eyes goggled.
It looked like Snape, unless his eyes deceived him. His silky black locks were pulled loosely away from his face, eyes laughing, rimmed with smudged black kohl, carefully smoky streaks of deepest blue growing from the corners of his eyes, making them look more mysterious and lethal. Next to him was, well Harry couldn't deny it, it was his father, James. His laughing brown eyes glittered out of smeary brown eyeliner, green at the corners and blotting out from it, ending in a thin, sparkling emerald line. Both of the young men, they looked about 4 years older than he, had shimmer at well placed points on their faces, and Snape had a crown of stark black, wooden brading around his temples, while Harry's father had two small horns sticking out from his. It wasn't the both of them laughing and blinking out of the picture that unsettled Harry the most, it was their two hands at the bottom of it, which he noticed, were tenderly grasping each other and slightly swinging.
So it was possible then, Snape could reciprocate Harry's feelings. But would he? If he had liked James so much but been so hurt, than perhaps he would never like Harry, always seeing his father. Is that why he had made Harry Puck? Because of James?
This barrage of thoughts left him in one swift moment when he heard the door close and a soft purr escape over "Pavane for a dead princess" by Ravel.
"Ahem." Harry didn't know whether to spin swiftly or melt into a puddle right then and there. Just keep calm, he screamed to himself. The second option was out of a question.
"So, I finally catch you in the act this time, Potter." Snape said softly and came around back of him, sending Harry into uncontrollable shivers as his cloak whispered against his arm. Harry found he couldn't even stare at Snape this time, could only look at the ground.
"Sit down, Potter, I don't particularly enjoy watching you squirm."
"Oh really?" Harry bit out before he could stop himself and slapped a hand over his mouth, before dropping ashamedly into a chair. Snape opened his mouth to say something but before he could, he spotted the open photo-album and frowned.
"I see."
Harry began to tumble words out before he could stop himself, "I just was returning in my book to make sure you had it so you wouldn't be upset and Ron and Hermoine wanted theirs in and I just saw your door open and I-" Snape waved him away with an annoyed hand and an "Enough."
There was a quiet silence while Snape stared at his hands for a while and Harry squirmed slightly in his chair. Harry couldn't hold it in any longer and he burst out with:
"You liked my father then. In that picture. You were Oberon, he was Puck." He looked yearningly and Snape and his black eyes flickered, studying Harry hard and he found himself unable to look away.
"Yes. He, Professor Lupin, and I were all here over one summer and did the play together. He was quite good, almost beat me out of the part..." He smiled wryly, as if remembering something very far away. Harry waited for him to continue. "There was no Black that summer...your father was amazing, he captivated the audience, held all the girls aloft with each word, that was where he met your mother you know...The old Potion's Mistress, Arabella Figg, she directed it. Wizards everywhere came to see it..." Harry sat raptly while Snape's face grew into an uncharacteristic grin, soft and tender as if remembering something he had not thought of in a long time.
What happened? Harry wanted to scream out, What happened? But Snape said nothing more, only closing the album gently and took the scripts from in front of Harry.
"I don't think you'll have any trouble without your script, Potter. You're doing much better on the hanging and all. And your interaction with Malfoy has been...."
Tense, rough, sultry, Harry thought sullenly..
"...Admirable. Potter, I wish to tell you something in utmost confidence." Harry was sure he was leaning forwards in his seat as Snape began to speak very quietly. "What you do with Malfoy is your own business, but-," Harry's mouth dropped openly but he neatly closed it back as Snape gave him an incredulous look, "Oh come off it Potter, I know exactly what's going on." He cleared his throat and ran a finger down the spine of his script, causing Harry to grow fuzzy, "That, however, is besides the point. I just would warn you against getting involved with him. Malfoy's are not...good....good companions. And I don't want this jeopardizing our production," he added quickly. Harry blinked in amazement and sat back.
"I'm not with him, Professor. At least, well, not anymore, I suppose." Something passed over Snape's face, maybe relief, maybe excitement, anxiety, anticipation, Harry couldn't tell and fought the smile off of his face.
"Good to know, Potter. Now, if you please, we have a long night tomorrow and I wish you not to be completely exhausted." Harry nodded shyly and stepped from the chair, feeling Snape's eyes follow him as he grinned uncontrollably.
-