DISCLAIMER: Apart from Zinfandel and Tzigane, J. K. Rowling owns everyone residing, studying, teaching, cleaning and haunting in Hogwarts. Ohohohoh...
EVALUATION ch.4
Professor Severus Snape was just going down towards the dungeons when he felt a pang of pain from the place where Professor Remus Lupin had bit him as a werewolf. Trying not to wince but failing miserably, Snape allowed himself to hobble down the staircase leading to his classroom (as there was no one around to notice his pained state).
Reaching the last step, he searched first for a sopt where he would be hidden from view and, as he spotted the place between two facing cabinets, he took out from the folds of his robe a jar of something a Slytherin student named Zinfandel had prepared for him as a 'volunteered' detention ('So that I wouldn't have to serve a detention the time you give me one,' she said). Hiding himself in the space between the two immensely large cabinets he smeared a dollop of white, sweet-smelling cream and so discreetly opened his trousers under his robes with his other hand, and applied it liberally on the sore butt-cheek.
Finished and with clothes impeccably in order, Snape marched off into his classroom, despondent over the way the pain-relieving cream made his bottom feel wet and greasy against the fabric of his trousers everytime he moved.
Not feeling good enough to give his seventh-year Double Advanced Potions class a greeting, Snape wordlessly stomped to his front desk and unceremoniously dropped his folders on the it, grabbed a chalk and quietly scribbled the ingredients for the day's Potion.
The students, being quite thoughtful, stayed quiet as well, anxious over their Potion Master's behavior over the past two days. They had heard rumors that Professor Snape had: a) given the Gryffindors fifty points; b) given Neville Longbottom a bar of Honeydukes chocolate and c) attempted to give his other class a field exposure that unfortunately went wrong. He made up for it though, with the bit about Professor Lupin.
They thought that either a) the world was going to end or b) Professor Severus Snape was going to die.
Zinfandel, the Slytherin prefect who prepared a an ointment for him in the guise of an 'advanced' detention, was biting her lip hard as she watched her beloved professor behave like someone who is having a death premonition. She tugged at her Gryffindor partner's sleeve.
"Tzigane, what do you think is happening to Master Snape*?" she asked, deeply worried. She had at first laughed when she heard about what Lupin did to Snape, but sobered up when she found him groaning in pain (it still got infected even with his potions) in the staffroom, when she was about to hand in her essays. Zinfandel cared for Snape so much that she volunteered mixing the ointment for him at his instruction, Snape being in no condition to stand /nor/ to sit down.
The Gryffindor, Tzigane, just shrugged. "I dunno. Middle-age crisis, perhaps?" she said in her unruffled way. But Zinfandel knew that she too, was bothered about Snape's weird actions. Tzigane had taken a liking for her /Master/ Snape herself.
So there he was, silently writing the potion recipe on the board, with the uncharacteristic slight shuffle only noticeable to those who were greatly used to Snape's swooping-bat effect. Since he is now dealing with students who had been putting up with his presence for about seven years, /everyone/ noticed his small 'limp'.
Suddenly, a derisive laugh broke out from the students.
"Hey, Professor Snape! Heard you got bitten by Professor Lupin...aren't you going to tell us that you're a werewolf? We gotta know. It's our /right/ to know!"
Snape's writing chalk broke and his hand stopped scribbling. He didn't move.
All the student's attention shifted to Fred Weasley, the other half of the twin jokers and also a bonafide anti-Snape.
"Well?"
His twin, George Weasley, nudged his ribs so hard that Fred keened, but he was not to be daunted. What Snape did to humiliate Lupin was the last straw for him.
"Fred!" George hissed, taking a panicked look towards Snape, who was still facing the board, unmoving. "Quit it! You'll get us in another bloody trouble, you twit!"
"So?" Fred retorted. He was not going to let Snape off the hook so lightly. In fact, he was not going to let Snape cut off his tirade with some /puny/ point-deduction or even a week's worth of detention. "We're already up in deep shit the day we had him for a professor! And now he had to humiliate Professor Lupin!"
"That's enough!" Zinfandel cried out, standing up so suddenly that her chair toppled down. "I won't let you say that about Professor Snape!" a long-restrained tear was trickling down her cheek. "At least we /learn/ many things in his class!"
"Yeah right," Fred sneered at the Slytherin. "Oh, we learn things in /Master/ Snape's class," he taunted, mocking Zinfandel's tone of voice. "Well, what do you expect his GROUPIE to say?"
It was Tzigane's turn to speak up. "Watch it, Weasley," she warned, voice grave. "I know I'm a Gryffindor, but goodness knows I'm on her side. And don't you damn call her groupie! We call him that way because that's our friggin' punishment!" she shouted, face red.
"Heh, and why do you suppose he made the two of you call him that?" Fred taunted. "Because he's flattered that he's got two fangirls! Ha!"
"Why you--" Zinfandel grabbed for her wand, her mind fogged with fury. "Emeritica Finale*!" she cried.
Fred suddenly was thrown off and stuck to the far wall ("ARRRGH!!!"); a diagram of glowing lines slowly formed on the wall, encircling Fred's prone figure...Zinfandel was performing her strongest dueling move.
The class could only watch in mixed horror and silence; they knew Zinfandel Highwind was Snape's very own dueling apprentice.
"ENOUGH!" Snape barked; snapping out of his petrified state and finally facing the students. "Miss Highwind, dismantle the Emeritica diagram NOW!" he swooped down from the front platform and bore down his dueling representative.
Grudgingly Zinfandel waved her wand. "Emeritica, Finite Incantatem!"
Fred fell and slumped on the floor, too weak even to moan. Immediately his stunned fellow Gryffindors stood and walked over to help the Weasley twin.
"Get him to the hospital wing!" Snape snapped. "Go on, get his arse out here!" He was beyond angry, and he wanted to get the Weasly out of his sight.
Then he saw that Fred Weasley had a twin. "You!" Snape roared at the pale-faced Weasley. "Go with your brother and don't you and your damned twin ever think of going down here AGAIN!"
"But--but--"
"GO!" Snape cried, a vein showing through prominently on his forehead. Covering a hand on his eyes, he breathed deeply and rapidly, almost hyperventilating, and his other hand sought support from a nearby desk. Zinfandel and Tzigane quickly helped their Professor Snape to his chair.
"Thank--thank you," Snape whispered grudgingly. He expected this to happen...but not when he thought that he was doing /so/ damn fine. He thought his big efforts (little in the eyes of others but this IS Snape we're talking about) were going to make a difference.
But seeing what the Gryffindors think of him, all of them didn't really matter.
What is this? Snape thought as he wheezed and coughed. Why should I, damn it, care for what they bloody hell think of me? Damn them, damn these students, damn Dumbledore for making my career hang by a bloody thread!
He brushed the doting pair away and held his composure, despite the fact that it was lost by the time his chalk broke earlier. He waved the students into their seats.
"What am I supposed to do with YOU?!" Snape snarled. "Ever since the start of this week one bad incident has to happen in my class EVERY DAY!"
The students tensed up. They knew that students named either Potter or Longbottom can be handy at times like this as a shock absorber (read: someone who takes in ALL the blame even if not theirs), but the thing is, neither belonged in this class. Any one of this class will have his/her head snapped off.
Snape remained silent for a while, counting from one to ten, still not willing to undo what he had so carefully built over the past two days.
"Miss Highwind," Snape said afterwards. His dueling student's apprentice snapped up.
"I appreciate standing up for me in my class, and you have definitely shown to the whole class that you are an excellent duelist," he said in clear tones. "Fifty points for Slytherin."
Zinfandel smiled, face tinged with pink. The Slytherin tables went noisy with hoots and cheers, against Gryffindor's boos.
"But," Snape interjected in a cold voice amidst the Slytherin cheers. "We have to consider the /nature/ of intentions here. One hundred and fifty points FROM Slytherin." Snape said in a faint voice, his eyes betraying his true feelings about the whole matter."The Emeritica Finale is a fatal move when applied with strong emotions, if you remember, Highwind," Snape said in what was more than a resigned sigh. "If I hadn't stopped you, Fred Weasley would have stopped breathing for a few more seconds."
The Slytherins stopped cheering after what Snape had said sunk into their heads. The Gryffindors stopped complaining and whining as well, stunned when they realized Snape had, for what seemed the first time, deducted points from Slytherin. And one hundred at that.
'Snape had indeed gone mad' became the universal thought of the whole class.
Zinfandel only nodded, though scowling.
"As for what Fred Weasley so impertinently did to me," Snape droned, his voice taking on a tired monotone. "Fifty points TO Gryffindor."
The Gryffindor tables promptly gaped at him.
"WHOA--" exclaimed Lee Jordan. "I must be dreaming, pinch me," he said to his seatmate.
"What he said was true." Snape said, grating. "I--what I did to Professor Lupin was wrong. No less than Professor Lupin's dastardly boggart!"
If it were a different situation, it would have been funny to hear Professor Snape mention 'boggart'.
"But he had insulted a classmate," he continued. "Five points off Gryffindor."
Zinfandel grinned at that.
Snape closed his eyes briefly and massaged his temples. "Considering that we have so badly deviated from the supposed topic of discussion," he said, gesturing towards what he had written on the board, "I'm cancelling class today. Class dismissed. Sod off, all of you. Leave me alone, give me time alone, you twits!" he snarled.
After all the students had gone, and after Zinfandel had profusely said her apologies, Snape sat alone in his cold dungeon classroom, slumped on the desk.
He had a plan already conceived to go about the fifth evaluation criteria. He was supposed to hold a competition between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins...but the day had, again, evidently screwed up.
Snape moaned, face against the cold hardwood of the front desk. I may bloody well kiss this table, he thought bitterly. I may not be here for the next school year.
He was about to doze off when someone tapped his shoulder.
"Leave me alone," Snape snapped.
"You dropped this, Severus."
Snape abruptly sat up. It was Remus Lupin, grinning as if nothing had happened between them last night. He was holding Snape's small list of his partly crossed-out evaluation criterias.
He snatched it from the werewolf's hands. "Thank you," he grumbled. He took a look on the list, to remind himself of how many criterias he had missed out on, and he was surprised to see that the fifth had been crossed out by another hand:
5) The professor shows impartiality and fairness among all his/her students.
He squinted at the parchment, then looked up at Lupin. "Why?" he croaked, weakly.
"Have you realized what you've just done? I was watching, Severus. I was about to give this to you when I witnessed your little point distribution earlier. Thought I'd witness this miracle," Lupin grinned. "So THAT'S the reason why you did that to me. The boggart. I should have known," Remus said shrewdly. "I shouldn't have anticipated the best actions from you, Severus. But it's ok."
Snape only looked at him. He had expected a punch or some other form of retaliation aside from the arse-biting of last night.
"Don't worry, Severus. The chance to bite your ass was glorious retribution already," Lupin ruffled Snape's hair, only to find that it was /indeed/ greasy. "Ugh, Severus. What do /you/ put in your hair?
------
FOOTNOTES: 'Master Snape': to know why Zinfandel and Tzigane addressed the Potions Master that way, refer to my other fic titled 'Name-calling'. Don't forget to R/R that one! Thankies!
'Emeritica Finale': I'm planning to write a fic about Severus Snape and his new dueling representative for the Slytherins, Zinfandel Highwind. Yeah, it's a Mary Sue, but I promise to make up for it with a good story. The Emeritica Finale is supposed to be the strongest dueling spell she had mastered with the help of Professors Snape and Vector, of Arithmancy. Anyway, can any of you care to tell me if Professor Vector is a male or a female? Your help is greatly appreciated!
R/R please! This is my way of coping with my schoolwork, so don't be surprised if I seem to conk one story every day...I'm noticing that the humor fades more as I continue hapter by chapter.....NOOO!!!
EVALUATION ch.4
Professor Severus Snape was just going down towards the dungeons when he felt a pang of pain from the place where Professor Remus Lupin had bit him as a werewolf. Trying not to wince but failing miserably, Snape allowed himself to hobble down the staircase leading to his classroom (as there was no one around to notice his pained state).
Reaching the last step, he searched first for a sopt where he would be hidden from view and, as he spotted the place between two facing cabinets, he took out from the folds of his robe a jar of something a Slytherin student named Zinfandel had prepared for him as a 'volunteered' detention ('So that I wouldn't have to serve a detention the time you give me one,' she said). Hiding himself in the space between the two immensely large cabinets he smeared a dollop of white, sweet-smelling cream and so discreetly opened his trousers under his robes with his other hand, and applied it liberally on the sore butt-cheek.
Finished and with clothes impeccably in order, Snape marched off into his classroom, despondent over the way the pain-relieving cream made his bottom feel wet and greasy against the fabric of his trousers everytime he moved.
Not feeling good enough to give his seventh-year Double Advanced Potions class a greeting, Snape wordlessly stomped to his front desk and unceremoniously dropped his folders on the it, grabbed a chalk and quietly scribbled the ingredients for the day's Potion.
The students, being quite thoughtful, stayed quiet as well, anxious over their Potion Master's behavior over the past two days. They had heard rumors that Professor Snape had: a) given the Gryffindors fifty points; b) given Neville Longbottom a bar of Honeydukes chocolate and c) attempted to give his other class a field exposure that unfortunately went wrong. He made up for it though, with the bit about Professor Lupin.
They thought that either a) the world was going to end or b) Professor Severus Snape was going to die.
Zinfandel, the Slytherin prefect who prepared a an ointment for him in the guise of an 'advanced' detention, was biting her lip hard as she watched her beloved professor behave like someone who is having a death premonition. She tugged at her Gryffindor partner's sleeve.
"Tzigane, what do you think is happening to Master Snape*?" she asked, deeply worried. She had at first laughed when she heard about what Lupin did to Snape, but sobered up when she found him groaning in pain (it still got infected even with his potions) in the staffroom, when she was about to hand in her essays. Zinfandel cared for Snape so much that she volunteered mixing the ointment for him at his instruction, Snape being in no condition to stand /nor/ to sit down.
The Gryffindor, Tzigane, just shrugged. "I dunno. Middle-age crisis, perhaps?" she said in her unruffled way. But Zinfandel knew that she too, was bothered about Snape's weird actions. Tzigane had taken a liking for her /Master/ Snape herself.
So there he was, silently writing the potion recipe on the board, with the uncharacteristic slight shuffle only noticeable to those who were greatly used to Snape's swooping-bat effect. Since he is now dealing with students who had been putting up with his presence for about seven years, /everyone/ noticed his small 'limp'.
Suddenly, a derisive laugh broke out from the students.
"Hey, Professor Snape! Heard you got bitten by Professor Lupin...aren't you going to tell us that you're a werewolf? We gotta know. It's our /right/ to know!"
Snape's writing chalk broke and his hand stopped scribbling. He didn't move.
All the student's attention shifted to Fred Weasley, the other half of the twin jokers and also a bonafide anti-Snape.
"Well?"
His twin, George Weasley, nudged his ribs so hard that Fred keened, but he was not to be daunted. What Snape did to humiliate Lupin was the last straw for him.
"Fred!" George hissed, taking a panicked look towards Snape, who was still facing the board, unmoving. "Quit it! You'll get us in another bloody trouble, you twit!"
"So?" Fred retorted. He was not going to let Snape off the hook so lightly. In fact, he was not going to let Snape cut off his tirade with some /puny/ point-deduction or even a week's worth of detention. "We're already up in deep shit the day we had him for a professor! And now he had to humiliate Professor Lupin!"
"That's enough!" Zinfandel cried out, standing up so suddenly that her chair toppled down. "I won't let you say that about Professor Snape!" a long-restrained tear was trickling down her cheek. "At least we /learn/ many things in his class!"
"Yeah right," Fred sneered at the Slytherin. "Oh, we learn things in /Master/ Snape's class," he taunted, mocking Zinfandel's tone of voice. "Well, what do you expect his GROUPIE to say?"
It was Tzigane's turn to speak up. "Watch it, Weasley," she warned, voice grave. "I know I'm a Gryffindor, but goodness knows I'm on her side. And don't you damn call her groupie! We call him that way because that's our friggin' punishment!" she shouted, face red.
"Heh, and why do you suppose he made the two of you call him that?" Fred taunted. "Because he's flattered that he's got two fangirls! Ha!"
"Why you--" Zinfandel grabbed for her wand, her mind fogged with fury. "Emeritica Finale*!" she cried.
Fred suddenly was thrown off and stuck to the far wall ("ARRRGH!!!"); a diagram of glowing lines slowly formed on the wall, encircling Fred's prone figure...Zinfandel was performing her strongest dueling move.
The class could only watch in mixed horror and silence; they knew Zinfandel Highwind was Snape's very own dueling apprentice.
"ENOUGH!" Snape barked; snapping out of his petrified state and finally facing the students. "Miss Highwind, dismantle the Emeritica diagram NOW!" he swooped down from the front platform and bore down his dueling representative.
Grudgingly Zinfandel waved her wand. "Emeritica, Finite Incantatem!"
Fred fell and slumped on the floor, too weak even to moan. Immediately his stunned fellow Gryffindors stood and walked over to help the Weasley twin.
"Get him to the hospital wing!" Snape snapped. "Go on, get his arse out here!" He was beyond angry, and he wanted to get the Weasly out of his sight.
Then he saw that Fred Weasley had a twin. "You!" Snape roared at the pale-faced Weasley. "Go with your brother and don't you and your damned twin ever think of going down here AGAIN!"
"But--but--"
"GO!" Snape cried, a vein showing through prominently on his forehead. Covering a hand on his eyes, he breathed deeply and rapidly, almost hyperventilating, and his other hand sought support from a nearby desk. Zinfandel and Tzigane quickly helped their Professor Snape to his chair.
"Thank--thank you," Snape whispered grudgingly. He expected this to happen...but not when he thought that he was doing /so/ damn fine. He thought his big efforts (little in the eyes of others but this IS Snape we're talking about) were going to make a difference.
But seeing what the Gryffindors think of him, all of them didn't really matter.
What is this? Snape thought as he wheezed and coughed. Why should I, damn it, care for what they bloody hell think of me? Damn them, damn these students, damn Dumbledore for making my career hang by a bloody thread!
He brushed the doting pair away and held his composure, despite the fact that it was lost by the time his chalk broke earlier. He waved the students into their seats.
"What am I supposed to do with YOU?!" Snape snarled. "Ever since the start of this week one bad incident has to happen in my class EVERY DAY!"
The students tensed up. They knew that students named either Potter or Longbottom can be handy at times like this as a shock absorber (read: someone who takes in ALL the blame even if not theirs), but the thing is, neither belonged in this class. Any one of this class will have his/her head snapped off.
Snape remained silent for a while, counting from one to ten, still not willing to undo what he had so carefully built over the past two days.
"Miss Highwind," Snape said afterwards. His dueling student's apprentice snapped up.
"I appreciate standing up for me in my class, and you have definitely shown to the whole class that you are an excellent duelist," he said in clear tones. "Fifty points for Slytherin."
Zinfandel smiled, face tinged with pink. The Slytherin tables went noisy with hoots and cheers, against Gryffindor's boos.
"But," Snape interjected in a cold voice amidst the Slytherin cheers. "We have to consider the /nature/ of intentions here. One hundred and fifty points FROM Slytherin." Snape said in a faint voice, his eyes betraying his true feelings about the whole matter."The Emeritica Finale is a fatal move when applied with strong emotions, if you remember, Highwind," Snape said in what was more than a resigned sigh. "If I hadn't stopped you, Fred Weasley would have stopped breathing for a few more seconds."
The Slytherins stopped cheering after what Snape had said sunk into their heads. The Gryffindors stopped complaining and whining as well, stunned when they realized Snape had, for what seemed the first time, deducted points from Slytherin. And one hundred at that.
'Snape had indeed gone mad' became the universal thought of the whole class.
Zinfandel only nodded, though scowling.
"As for what Fred Weasley so impertinently did to me," Snape droned, his voice taking on a tired monotone. "Fifty points TO Gryffindor."
The Gryffindor tables promptly gaped at him.
"WHOA--" exclaimed Lee Jordan. "I must be dreaming, pinch me," he said to his seatmate.
"What he said was true." Snape said, grating. "I--what I did to Professor Lupin was wrong. No less than Professor Lupin's dastardly boggart!"
If it were a different situation, it would have been funny to hear Professor Snape mention 'boggart'.
"But he had insulted a classmate," he continued. "Five points off Gryffindor."
Zinfandel grinned at that.
Snape closed his eyes briefly and massaged his temples. "Considering that we have so badly deviated from the supposed topic of discussion," he said, gesturing towards what he had written on the board, "I'm cancelling class today. Class dismissed. Sod off, all of you. Leave me alone, give me time alone, you twits!" he snarled.
After all the students had gone, and after Zinfandel had profusely said her apologies, Snape sat alone in his cold dungeon classroom, slumped on the desk.
He had a plan already conceived to go about the fifth evaluation criteria. He was supposed to hold a competition between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins...but the day had, again, evidently screwed up.
Snape moaned, face against the cold hardwood of the front desk. I may bloody well kiss this table, he thought bitterly. I may not be here for the next school year.
He was about to doze off when someone tapped his shoulder.
"Leave me alone," Snape snapped.
"You dropped this, Severus."
Snape abruptly sat up. It was Remus Lupin, grinning as if nothing had happened between them last night. He was holding Snape's small list of his partly crossed-out evaluation criterias.
He snatched it from the werewolf's hands. "Thank you," he grumbled. He took a look on the list, to remind himself of how many criterias he had missed out on, and he was surprised to see that the fifth had been crossed out by another hand:
5) The professor shows impartiality and fairness among all his/her students.
He squinted at the parchment, then looked up at Lupin. "Why?" he croaked, weakly.
"Have you realized what you've just done? I was watching, Severus. I was about to give this to you when I witnessed your little point distribution earlier. Thought I'd witness this miracle," Lupin grinned. "So THAT'S the reason why you did that to me. The boggart. I should have known," Remus said shrewdly. "I shouldn't have anticipated the best actions from you, Severus. But it's ok."
Snape only looked at him. He had expected a punch or some other form of retaliation aside from the arse-biting of last night.
"Don't worry, Severus. The chance to bite your ass was glorious retribution already," Lupin ruffled Snape's hair, only to find that it was /indeed/ greasy. "Ugh, Severus. What do /you/ put in your hair?
------
FOOTNOTES: 'Master Snape': to know why Zinfandel and Tzigane addressed the Potions Master that way, refer to my other fic titled 'Name-calling'. Don't forget to R/R that one! Thankies!
'Emeritica Finale': I'm planning to write a fic about Severus Snape and his new dueling representative for the Slytherins, Zinfandel Highwind. Yeah, it's a Mary Sue, but I promise to make up for it with a good story. The Emeritica Finale is supposed to be the strongest dueling spell she had mastered with the help of Professors Snape and Vector, of Arithmancy. Anyway, can any of you care to tell me if Professor Vector is a male or a female? Your help is greatly appreciated!
R/R please! This is my way of coping with my schoolwork, so don't be surprised if I seem to conk one story every day...I'm noticing that the humor fades more as I continue hapter by chapter.....NOOO!!!