:: Chapter Four ::
The Indignation ~ September 2 (Dungeons)
As Allura flounced past him, her long blonde hair flicked out and her perfume wafted in his direction. Putting on a face that spoke of his obvious disgust, Severus Snape spun on his heel and took off, seeking the dark comforts of the dungeon from whence he had just come. His black robes billowed about him the way that only his robes could until he reached the doorway that lead to safety. He paused, though he did not know why, and with a look of extreme distaste upon his sallow face, he glanced once over his shoulder at the landing on the main staircase. Immediately, his beetle black eyes fell on the sight of Chanel, posed on the landing as though in anticipation that he would look back at her. She stood, so poised, grinning like an idiot and twinkling her fingers softly at him in a little wave. Infuriated, Snape snapped his head front and centre and stalked downwards into the receiving darkness.
The audacity! Did she think he was a silly school-boy? Dumbledore may have taken leave of his senses, but -he- was not to be fooled so easily. And it wasn't bad enough that they had wasted his valuable time in the Entrance Hall with stupid introductions, they now wanted to squander more in the name of a tour! The woman needed no bloody tour, she'd been a student here, for Salazar's sake! Severus glowered, his face like a thundercloud as he swept down the dark hallway. Two students stood at the entrance to the Slytherin common room, talking about their Transfiguration assignments. Perfect, someone to vent upon. He practically screeched to halt in front of the pair of fifth years, his eyes glittering dangerously. "Standing about, gossiping? Very dangerous, to block walkways. Detentions for the both of you. With Filch. Now get out of my sight." he purred, pushing past them as he continued on towards his private domain.
Swooping past his office, he continued on, looking very much like a man on a mission. Minx, he thought. Mentioning a tour in front of the Headmaster, he was now forced to give her one. However he did not have to be there for another hour, which would be more than long enough for him to seek some solace in his quiet dungeon. He paused in front of a dark oak door that was braced with wrought iron. "Vipersfang," he muttered, the door to his private lair opening at his voice, and his voice alone. He entered the sitting room, a medium sized chamber with polished wood floors that contained a fireplace and two dark green leather armchairs separated by a coffee-table upon which sat a wizard chess set. Simple, as the man did not welcome nor expect any sort of company.
Marching through to the bedchamber, he crossed immediately to an ancient suit of armor that stood just outside the bathroom. Raising the visor with a creak, his long slim fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle, and with a grim expression Severus withdrew the bottle of fire whiskey. He worked loose the cork and took a long swig, before replacing it back it its clever hiding place. What was the world coming to when a man couldn't even have a drink in his own lair, for fear of discovery? The interfering house- elves insisted on worming their way past passwords, Warding charms and even fairy dangerous and sharp-teethed traps in order to have the 'pleasure' of cleaning his rooms. Shaking his head in annoyance and feeling the heat of his drink flow through his veins.
The bedchamber was large and scrupulously clean. It had no windows due to the fact it was underground and the walls were covered in tapestries of varying descriptions - none of which moved. There were no portraits, as he was sick of the whispered conversations the subjects had used to hold in the middle of the night. Most inconsiderate. The walls that were not covered with tapestries were filled with wooden bookshelves the groaned under the weight of hundreds upon hundreds of heavy leather-bound tomes. It was to one of these shelves the Potions Master now retreated, choosing a volume at random before moving over to bed, a massive pewter sculpture that looked as though it had been there since the dawn of time and the castle had simply been built around it. It was intricately carved with writhing snakes that intertwined, four of which rose from the base to form the canopy from which hung heavy dark green velvet curtains. The quilt matched the curtains both of which were printed with tiny sliver snakes that slithered about on the velvet.
Still muttering about the indignity of the situation, he lay down on the bed and opened his book, holding it with one slim hand. He assumed, seeing as the only position open was Muggle Studies, that the brat had been hired to teach that. No surprises there, he knew she wouldn't have been able to teach a subject that required intellect. He sneered. Settling into the peace of his book, Severus hardly noticed when an hour was up. Sighing, he snapped the book closed with a renewed irritation and rolled to his feet gracefully. He straightened his robes slightly, and walked in his usual brisk and silent manner out of his rooms, sealing the door behind him. The hallways were empty as most of the students were in their common rooms doing their homework at this time, or at least his Slytherins were.
Anyone would think he actually had the time and patience to fritter away on trivial things such as tours, he thought sourly to himself. Hopefully nobody would notice that he had been designated the conductor of her initiation into the castle, and he was fully prepared to throw out detentions to all and sundry that should happen to smirk or snicker at him in his misery, and House Points would be lost faster than the speed of light. Severus would finish the tour in minutes he thought, as Chanel was already aware of the more illustrious rooms in the castle. Really there was only the staff room to show her, and once that dismal task was over he could escape her insufferable presence. Really. It wasn't bad enough that she and her two snotty little Gryffindor cronies had tortured him with pranks and trouble-making for seven years, now he was going to be forced to tolerate her infuriating presence again, and as a peer, no less. No matter. He would avoid her and all would be as it should.
Assuming she lived on the seventh floor with the rest of the bumbling idiots that thought themselves Professors, it was there that Severus made his way. Up the Grand Staircase and down the corridor that harbored the doors to the varying teacher's apartments. Trust -her- bloody door to be right at the end of the hall. He was just passing one of the last doors when Minerva McGonnagle, the Transfiguration Professor stepped out into his path. "Severus!" she exclaimed, raising an old and wrinkled hand to her chest in shock. "You're not actually -visiting- someone, are you?" she asked in her Scottish brogue, her lips twitching in a slight smirk. "Perhaps Miss Chanel, the new Muggle Studies teacher, by any chance?" His eyes narrowed dangerously and he clenched his teeth in anger, biting back the cutting remark that longed to fly from his lips. Not trusting himself to reply in a civil manner, her merely nodded his head curtly in greeting and continued on his way, noticing that Minerva didn't leave the area until he stopped dead at the door to the Muggle Studies apartment. Previously occupied by that dolt, Uriel Panfilo (who, Severus begrudgingly noted, at least didn't prance about the castle making a nuisance of himself) he narrowed his eyes as he contemplated his next move.
Bloody woman, she could have at least shown -some- courtesy and waited outside for him. Now he was reduced to knocking on her door like some ill- fated suitor. If she asked him in for tea, those words would be her last. Standing as close to the door as he possible could, wishing to perhaps be swallowed by it if the Gods were merciful, he raised his right hand to the small brass knocker that was shaped like a hand. Knocking three times in rapid succession, he then let his hand fall back to his side. No sooner had it left the knocker however, the small brass hand uncurled it fingers which had previously been enclosed in a fist, and reached them out to honk his nose! Spluttering with anger and reaching for his wand, Severus had just pointed it furiously at the incredibly cheeky knocker when the door was swung open.
As Allura flounced past him, her long blonde hair flicked out and her perfume wafted in his direction. Putting on a face that spoke of his obvious disgust, Severus Snape spun on his heel and took off, seeking the dark comforts of the dungeon from whence he had just come. His black robes billowed about him the way that only his robes could until he reached the doorway that lead to safety. He paused, though he did not know why, and with a look of extreme distaste upon his sallow face, he glanced once over his shoulder at the landing on the main staircase. Immediately, his beetle black eyes fell on the sight of Chanel, posed on the landing as though in anticipation that he would look back at her. She stood, so poised, grinning like an idiot and twinkling her fingers softly at him in a little wave. Infuriated, Snape snapped his head front and centre and stalked downwards into the receiving darkness.
The audacity! Did she think he was a silly school-boy? Dumbledore may have taken leave of his senses, but -he- was not to be fooled so easily. And it wasn't bad enough that they had wasted his valuable time in the Entrance Hall with stupid introductions, they now wanted to squander more in the name of a tour! The woman needed no bloody tour, she'd been a student here, for Salazar's sake! Severus glowered, his face like a thundercloud as he swept down the dark hallway. Two students stood at the entrance to the Slytherin common room, talking about their Transfiguration assignments. Perfect, someone to vent upon. He practically screeched to halt in front of the pair of fifth years, his eyes glittering dangerously. "Standing about, gossiping? Very dangerous, to block walkways. Detentions for the both of you. With Filch. Now get out of my sight." he purred, pushing past them as he continued on towards his private domain.
Swooping past his office, he continued on, looking very much like a man on a mission. Minx, he thought. Mentioning a tour in front of the Headmaster, he was now forced to give her one. However he did not have to be there for another hour, which would be more than long enough for him to seek some solace in his quiet dungeon. He paused in front of a dark oak door that was braced with wrought iron. "Vipersfang," he muttered, the door to his private lair opening at his voice, and his voice alone. He entered the sitting room, a medium sized chamber with polished wood floors that contained a fireplace and two dark green leather armchairs separated by a coffee-table upon which sat a wizard chess set. Simple, as the man did not welcome nor expect any sort of company.
Marching through to the bedchamber, he crossed immediately to an ancient suit of armor that stood just outside the bathroom. Raising the visor with a creak, his long slim fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle, and with a grim expression Severus withdrew the bottle of fire whiskey. He worked loose the cork and took a long swig, before replacing it back it its clever hiding place. What was the world coming to when a man couldn't even have a drink in his own lair, for fear of discovery? The interfering house- elves insisted on worming their way past passwords, Warding charms and even fairy dangerous and sharp-teethed traps in order to have the 'pleasure' of cleaning his rooms. Shaking his head in annoyance and feeling the heat of his drink flow through his veins.
The bedchamber was large and scrupulously clean. It had no windows due to the fact it was underground and the walls were covered in tapestries of varying descriptions - none of which moved. There were no portraits, as he was sick of the whispered conversations the subjects had used to hold in the middle of the night. Most inconsiderate. The walls that were not covered with tapestries were filled with wooden bookshelves the groaned under the weight of hundreds upon hundreds of heavy leather-bound tomes. It was to one of these shelves the Potions Master now retreated, choosing a volume at random before moving over to bed, a massive pewter sculpture that looked as though it had been there since the dawn of time and the castle had simply been built around it. It was intricately carved with writhing snakes that intertwined, four of which rose from the base to form the canopy from which hung heavy dark green velvet curtains. The quilt matched the curtains both of which were printed with tiny sliver snakes that slithered about on the velvet.
Still muttering about the indignity of the situation, he lay down on the bed and opened his book, holding it with one slim hand. He assumed, seeing as the only position open was Muggle Studies, that the brat had been hired to teach that. No surprises there, he knew she wouldn't have been able to teach a subject that required intellect. He sneered. Settling into the peace of his book, Severus hardly noticed when an hour was up. Sighing, he snapped the book closed with a renewed irritation and rolled to his feet gracefully. He straightened his robes slightly, and walked in his usual brisk and silent manner out of his rooms, sealing the door behind him. The hallways were empty as most of the students were in their common rooms doing their homework at this time, or at least his Slytherins were.
Anyone would think he actually had the time and patience to fritter away on trivial things such as tours, he thought sourly to himself. Hopefully nobody would notice that he had been designated the conductor of her initiation into the castle, and he was fully prepared to throw out detentions to all and sundry that should happen to smirk or snicker at him in his misery, and House Points would be lost faster than the speed of light. Severus would finish the tour in minutes he thought, as Chanel was already aware of the more illustrious rooms in the castle. Really there was only the staff room to show her, and once that dismal task was over he could escape her insufferable presence. Really. It wasn't bad enough that she and her two snotty little Gryffindor cronies had tortured him with pranks and trouble-making for seven years, now he was going to be forced to tolerate her infuriating presence again, and as a peer, no less. No matter. He would avoid her and all would be as it should.
Assuming she lived on the seventh floor with the rest of the bumbling idiots that thought themselves Professors, it was there that Severus made his way. Up the Grand Staircase and down the corridor that harbored the doors to the varying teacher's apartments. Trust -her- bloody door to be right at the end of the hall. He was just passing one of the last doors when Minerva McGonnagle, the Transfiguration Professor stepped out into his path. "Severus!" she exclaimed, raising an old and wrinkled hand to her chest in shock. "You're not actually -visiting- someone, are you?" she asked in her Scottish brogue, her lips twitching in a slight smirk. "Perhaps Miss Chanel, the new Muggle Studies teacher, by any chance?" His eyes narrowed dangerously and he clenched his teeth in anger, biting back the cutting remark that longed to fly from his lips. Not trusting himself to reply in a civil manner, her merely nodded his head curtly in greeting and continued on his way, noticing that Minerva didn't leave the area until he stopped dead at the door to the Muggle Studies apartment. Previously occupied by that dolt, Uriel Panfilo (who, Severus begrudgingly noted, at least didn't prance about the castle making a nuisance of himself) he narrowed his eyes as he contemplated his next move.
Bloody woman, she could have at least shown -some- courtesy and waited outside for him. Now he was reduced to knocking on her door like some ill- fated suitor. If she asked him in for tea, those words would be her last. Standing as close to the door as he possible could, wishing to perhaps be swallowed by it if the Gods were merciful, he raised his right hand to the small brass knocker that was shaped like a hand. Knocking three times in rapid succession, he then let his hand fall back to his side. No sooner had it left the knocker however, the small brass hand uncurled it fingers which had previously been enclosed in a fist, and reached them out to honk his nose! Spluttering with anger and reaching for his wand, Severus had just pointed it furiously at the incredibly cheeky knocker when the door was swung open.