Author's Notes: This was originally written on August 13th, 2002. The version you see have been heavily revised, but if you see any errors please tell me in your review. If it sucks, tell me but tell me why. Thanks. - GSYH
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So Cold In The Dungeons
Adjusting the bags and packages against his chest, Severus Snape cursed under his breath as a group of eager third years swept pass him, too absorbed with their first time in Hogsmeade to notice the professor clad in black. Severus squints to focus in the afternoon rays, as the laughers of villagers and visitors grew tauntingly merrier – to his ears at least.
Damn.
The sky was all blue, from the light gold-tinted pastel around the sun to the darker, richer shade far east.
So what the hell am I doing here?
Severus berated himself for coming at this hour…he should have waited, waited for the dark to venture into a place such as Hogsmeade. Waited until the village is more deserted, empty, devoid of all these…idiots prancing about and grinning like idiots.
But lamenting is pointless, this shop closes early on Sunday, and Boomslang skin is needed for the Sixth years' class tomorrow. So instead Severus swore to kill whoever it was that stole the potions ingredients from the private cabinet, a slow death for damning him to this riot. He passed the lake where the giant squid looks to be asleep on the shore, that along with the seagulls flying overhead and the surrounding lush, green foliage – Hogswart could have made postcard.
After taking a few points off a group of fifth years for "public display of affection", he decided to ignore the whispers of "Slimy Snappy Snape" and arrived at the dungeons. The Master of Potions passed a group of Slytherins without word, and descended into a deeper level, his private quarters. Thankful for the absolute silence down here, he dumped his purchases on the stone table in front of the fire, and noted how cold it is.
Metaphor of my life – a cold damp dungeon…
Severus berated himself again for being overly dramatic, something which he finds annoying in others. Never the less; living in the dungeons does not aid to uplifts one's sprits.
It comes with the job, the end.
The Potion Master decided that this train of thoughts had dwell on too long, so he concentrated instead on his purchases. Boomslang skin, newt eyes, nightshade flowers, lotus seeds, venom sac of snakes, bat hairs, purple fairy mushrooms…and medical supplies. Yes medical supplies…with Neville in class tomorrow he'll probably need it soon, and damn Merlin if he is going to bother Madame Pomfey with such little things.
No I am not going to burden anyone.
The walls felt damp to his fingers, and he lamented again how the fire does not lit up the room as well as sunlight does in the higher quarters. Signing, Severus picked up the poker and pushed more wood into the roaring fire, but no matter how brightly it burned, the dungeon still remained at a chilling temperature.
- End -
