TITLE: After Match
AUTHOR: Snaples
RATING: G
CODES: Snape, Potter
SUMMARY: Harry decides to thank Snape for his actions during the Quidditch match.
AFTER MATCH
by Snaples
"You saved me."
Snape looked up, his quill frozen in mid-sentence and his obsidian eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Shut the door, Potter," he muttered, laying the quill over the parchment. "I want no such vile things repeated throughout the halls of Hogwarts," he said with a look of extreme distaste.
Harry Potter quickly closed the door to Professor Snape's office behind him. As with the rest of the Dungeon, the little room was dimly lit. Only a few candles were aflame and provided the Slytherin Wizard just enough light to grade his students' papers.
"Quirrell told me what happened," Harry said, cutting to the business at hand. He could feel his head throb with insistent pain, the kind he felt whenever Snape looked at him with those hostile black eyes.
"And you're in the habit of believing traitorous little slaves, Potter? Tut tut," Snape smirked, rising from his seat. Harry felt like a dormouse, shrinking even smaller beneath the Master of Potions' considerable height and morbid appearance. As Snape loomed over the desk, Potter was suddenly reminded of carrion bending over rotting flesh.
"Slaves?" he repeated, somewhat confused. Snape looked satisfied at this and said nothing more as he walked around his desk. Harry flattened himself against the door when the Professor approached a step beyond comfortable distance.
"Mister Potter," he said with sibilant disdain, "Whatever that blithering idiot told you must have gotten to your head. I do not blame you. Fools and babes are so easily influenced."
Potter's face flushed red with humiliation and quiet anger. Again, Snape felt a satisfaction so deep he thought it might actually make him smile. "Now why don't you run along and make sure such assumptions are never to be made in here-" he tapped Potter's temple with a long pale finger, "-again. Try, instead, to remember your lessons. Your last paper was wrought with idiocies."
Harry's face hardened and he stood up a little straighter. The metamorphosis startled the Professor, who leaned back slightly from his intimidating bow. "Professor Snape," Harry said with strained formality, "Please allow me to extend my gratitude for that one, _miniscule_ act of kindness you've exhibited at the Quidditch match, despite whatever selfish motive urged you to do it. Be assured that it will be the last time you'll ever hear me say so. To you, or to anyone," he said roughly, opening the door and forcing Snape to take a few steps back lest he be knocked on the forehead with it.
He looked, amazed, as the door groaned and shut loudly behind little Potter.
It was a long moment before the twitch at the corner of Snape's mouth signalled another kind of satisfaction.
END
AUTHOR: Snaples
RATING: G
CODES: Snape, Potter
SUMMARY: Harry decides to thank Snape for his actions during the Quidditch match.
AFTER MATCH
by Snaples
"You saved me."
Snape looked up, his quill frozen in mid-sentence and his obsidian eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Shut the door, Potter," he muttered, laying the quill over the parchment. "I want no such vile things repeated throughout the halls of Hogwarts," he said with a look of extreme distaste.
Harry Potter quickly closed the door to Professor Snape's office behind him. As with the rest of the Dungeon, the little room was dimly lit. Only a few candles were aflame and provided the Slytherin Wizard just enough light to grade his students' papers.
"Quirrell told me what happened," Harry said, cutting to the business at hand. He could feel his head throb with insistent pain, the kind he felt whenever Snape looked at him with those hostile black eyes.
"And you're in the habit of believing traitorous little slaves, Potter? Tut tut," Snape smirked, rising from his seat. Harry felt like a dormouse, shrinking even smaller beneath the Master of Potions' considerable height and morbid appearance. As Snape loomed over the desk, Potter was suddenly reminded of carrion bending over rotting flesh.
"Slaves?" he repeated, somewhat confused. Snape looked satisfied at this and said nothing more as he walked around his desk. Harry flattened himself against the door when the Professor approached a step beyond comfortable distance.
"Mister Potter," he said with sibilant disdain, "Whatever that blithering idiot told you must have gotten to your head. I do not blame you. Fools and babes are so easily influenced."
Potter's face flushed red with humiliation and quiet anger. Again, Snape felt a satisfaction so deep he thought it might actually make him smile. "Now why don't you run along and make sure such assumptions are never to be made in here-" he tapped Potter's temple with a long pale finger, "-again. Try, instead, to remember your lessons. Your last paper was wrought with idiocies."
Harry's face hardened and he stood up a little straighter. The metamorphosis startled the Professor, who leaned back slightly from his intimidating bow. "Professor Snape," Harry said with strained formality, "Please allow me to extend my gratitude for that one, _miniscule_ act of kindness you've exhibited at the Quidditch match, despite whatever selfish motive urged you to do it. Be assured that it will be the last time you'll ever hear me say so. To you, or to anyone," he said roughly, opening the door and forcing Snape to take a few steps back lest he be knocked on the forehead with it.
He looked, amazed, as the door groaned and shut loudly behind little Potter.
It was a long moment before the twitch at the corner of Snape's mouth signalled another kind of satisfaction.
END