Random Stupidity
by Ethra Esme
A/N: Stop reviewing anonymonimonously! I wanna know who you are! At least put you name, but for Norbert's sake, don't bloody put "me"! Who the fuck is "me"? I mean, I am me. Maybe I reviewed it? That's a good idea. I'll do a bunch of my own reviews, people will see the story, see it has umpteen reviews, and do the whole sheep-like "Oh, everyone reviews, I must as well."
So anyway, I am determined to write another chapter because I want Ethra and Snape to finally get it on.
You think I'm joking, don't you?
Anyway, just came back from a party (Real wild one.../sarcasm) so I'm a nip tired, but I'll try my best to live up to the suckiness standards y'all have become accustomed to.
Chapter Nine
Poor, Emotionally Scarred Malfoy
The author lost track of time, so decided to make stuff up again.
The next time Snape saw Ethra, she was walking into his class, minus, of course, the acursed cape.
She looked worse for wear, with a large bruise above her right eye, and her hair was a terror. She did not look at him as she entered, but he could not take his eyes off of her. It was...like some sort of train wreck.
To make matters worse, Ethra hadn't seen Addie all weekend, save for lunch one day. She was looking disheveled and tired, but had an odd glow of satisfaction about her. They exchanged only a few words, one of which Ethra could have sworn was "Bowie".
She flopped into her usual seat in the back, and was again not joined by anyone. Draco and his minions had snickered at her as she past, and she shot him a venomous glare that he had simply ignored.
To make matters worse, the potion being assigned was long and boring, with the tedious, exact measurements required that Ethra was horrible at. She made potions like she baked- add a little of this, little of that 'till it's just right. And although she could make killer cinnamon rolls (ooo....they're so good, but take 4 bloody hours from start to finish), this method did not work well with the precise science of potions brewing.
'Well, at least I can keep my mind focused on something besides...HIM.'
No, not the weird singer guy. I mean Snape.
This time her potion was pretty good. Only slightly green tinted when it was supposed to be blue, whereas Neville Longbottom's potion had turned red.
At the end of class, Ethra deposited her potion and made to leave when Snape snapped her name.
"Esme." He said darkly.
She turned around, heading back toward the desk. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry pause briefly with a look of concern, but soon he too was exited from the room.
"Yes, Snape?"
"That's PROFESSOR Snape to you." He said, resting his elbows on his desk and leabing forward with an ominously carnivorous grin. "Or, if you like, 'Master' is fine."
Ethra blinked. And then she blinked again. She blinked thrice.
"Huh...wha-?"
A smirk spread across his pale face like an earthworm sunning on the ivory tusk of an elephant.
The author laughed madly at that, for no reason other than that she'd had WAY too much caffiene.
"Master. Would you like to call me that?" He purred.
Ethra at first wondered if this was truly Snape, but then realised something all too obvious.
She stepped forward toward his desk, loosening her Slytherin tie. She flung it onto the corner of his desk, and Snape started but then regained his composure as she leaned across the desk, very close to his face.
"Yes. 'Master' DOES have a nice...ring to it." She purred back at him. Like a pair of over-pleasured tigers, they were.
Snape at first looked like he didn't know what to do with himself, and then, halfway in a panic, stood up.
"Miss Emse, I would appreciate it if you would kindly remove your clothing-"
"Okay!" Ethra started to undo her shirt.
"AND YOURSELF FROM MY DESK AND GET OUT!" He finished quickly, watching in horror as she unbuttoned her shirt halfway down.
"What's the matter, Snapey-poo? Can't take the heat?" She walked over closer to him, and he backed into the chalkboard.
"D-did...you just call me..."
"Snapey-poo, yes." She backed him all the way up, pushing him with a thud into the chalkboard. Before she had time to react, he had his wand drawn and had flipped her around so now it was she who was pushed against the chalkboard.
The air nearly knocked out of her, her eyes remained hard on his as she felt his wand poking at the underside of her chin. (Does that sound dirty to you guys? Cuz it did to me.)
"Esme, you are playing with the WRONG man." He growled at her, his face inches from her. His breath was, well...unpleasant.
"Me?" She spat back at him. "Who was just BEGGING me to call him 'Master'?"
"I was trying to scare you away."
"You were bluffing."
"Yes."
Ethra took a moment to catch her breath and realized that Snape, too, was breathing hard, his breath warm against her face and neck. She gazed into his face, glaring intently.
Finally, Snape spoke, getting even closer to her face. "What do you want with me, anyway? Are you trying to bait me? Is this some sort of pathetic plea for affection?" He whispered hotly.
She turned her face up toward his, their mouths dangerously close. "What," She whispered, "do you want with me?"
They were so close now, that they were breathing the same warm breath, nearly panting with something between anger and...well, probably lust, I would imagine.
Ethra felt her eyelids get heavy as she minutely tilted her head up, her mouth, up, toward his...
Suddenly, from her left and his right, there was a loud banging noise as the classroom door burst open.
"Sorry, Professor, I forgot my-"
Snape jumped back from Ethra who absentmindedly took ahold of her shirt, which she realized was still only halfway buttoned.
In the doorway stood a tall, lean-looking blonde with menacing blue eyes and a permanent sneer.
"M-Malfoy..." Snape managed out, trying to regain his composure. In their small wrestling match, his greasy hair had moved out of place, a lot of it into his eyes, and there was sweat on his forehead and upper lip.
Malfoy looked from Ethra to Snape to Ethra to Snape, and his eyes welled up with confusion and tears. He opened his mouth to say something, and then, finally, slinked back into the hallway, and took off running for the stairs.
Ethra and Snape looked at one another. Suddenly, the black haired man strode toward her quickly, and pushed her back against the blackboard. He thrust his lips to hers. They were, as one would imagine, hard and maybe a little chapped, his kiss forceful. Ethra, her eyes still open with surprise, noticed in bemusement that his were closed. As she felt hers flutter shut, the warmth was abruptly ended and Snape stepped back, grabbed her tie and bag, and shoved them into her arms.
"Call me Severus." He said briskly, and pushed her out the threshold, slamming the heavy dungeon door shut behind her.
"I wonder if he remembers I have detention tomorrow night?" She wondered aloud.
by Ethra Esme
A/N: Stop reviewing anonymonimonously! I wanna know who you are! At least put you name, but for Norbert's sake, don't bloody put "me"! Who the fuck is "me"? I mean, I am me. Maybe I reviewed it? That's a good idea. I'll do a bunch of my own reviews, people will see the story, see it has umpteen reviews, and do the whole sheep-like "Oh, everyone reviews, I must as well."
So anyway, I am determined to write another chapter because I want Ethra and Snape to finally get it on.
You think I'm joking, don't you?
Anyway, just came back from a party (Real wild one.../sarcasm) so I'm a nip tired, but I'll try my best to live up to the suckiness standards y'all have become accustomed to.
Chapter Nine
Poor, Emotionally Scarred Malfoy
The author lost track of time, so decided to make stuff up again.
The next time Snape saw Ethra, she was walking into his class, minus, of course, the acursed cape.
She looked worse for wear, with a large bruise above her right eye, and her hair was a terror. She did not look at him as she entered, but he could not take his eyes off of her. It was...like some sort of train wreck.
To make matters worse, Ethra hadn't seen Addie all weekend, save for lunch one day. She was looking disheveled and tired, but had an odd glow of satisfaction about her. They exchanged only a few words, one of which Ethra could have sworn was "Bowie".
She flopped into her usual seat in the back, and was again not joined by anyone. Draco and his minions had snickered at her as she past, and she shot him a venomous glare that he had simply ignored.
To make matters worse, the potion being assigned was long and boring, with the tedious, exact measurements required that Ethra was horrible at. She made potions like she baked- add a little of this, little of that 'till it's just right. And although she could make killer cinnamon rolls (ooo....they're so good, but take 4 bloody hours from start to finish), this method did not work well with the precise science of potions brewing.
'Well, at least I can keep my mind focused on something besides...HIM.'
No, not the weird singer guy. I mean Snape.
This time her potion was pretty good. Only slightly green tinted when it was supposed to be blue, whereas Neville Longbottom's potion had turned red.
At the end of class, Ethra deposited her potion and made to leave when Snape snapped her name.
"Esme." He said darkly.
She turned around, heading back toward the desk. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry pause briefly with a look of concern, but soon he too was exited from the room.
"Yes, Snape?"
"That's PROFESSOR Snape to you." He said, resting his elbows on his desk and leabing forward with an ominously carnivorous grin. "Or, if you like, 'Master' is fine."
Ethra blinked. And then she blinked again. She blinked thrice.
"Huh...wha-?"
A smirk spread across his pale face like an earthworm sunning on the ivory tusk of an elephant.
The author laughed madly at that, for no reason other than that she'd had WAY too much caffiene.
"Master. Would you like to call me that?" He purred.
Ethra at first wondered if this was truly Snape, but then realised something all too obvious.
She stepped forward toward his desk, loosening her Slytherin tie. She flung it onto the corner of his desk, and Snape started but then regained his composure as she leaned across the desk, very close to his face.
"Yes. 'Master' DOES have a nice...ring to it." She purred back at him. Like a pair of over-pleasured tigers, they were.
Snape at first looked like he didn't know what to do with himself, and then, halfway in a panic, stood up.
"Miss Emse, I would appreciate it if you would kindly remove your clothing-"
"Okay!" Ethra started to undo her shirt.
"AND YOURSELF FROM MY DESK AND GET OUT!" He finished quickly, watching in horror as she unbuttoned her shirt halfway down.
"What's the matter, Snapey-poo? Can't take the heat?" She walked over closer to him, and he backed into the chalkboard.
"D-did...you just call me..."
"Snapey-poo, yes." She backed him all the way up, pushing him with a thud into the chalkboard. Before she had time to react, he had his wand drawn and had flipped her around so now it was she who was pushed against the chalkboard.
The air nearly knocked out of her, her eyes remained hard on his as she felt his wand poking at the underside of her chin. (Does that sound dirty to you guys? Cuz it did to me.)
"Esme, you are playing with the WRONG man." He growled at her, his face inches from her. His breath was, well...unpleasant.
"Me?" She spat back at him. "Who was just BEGGING me to call him 'Master'?"
"I was trying to scare you away."
"You were bluffing."
"Yes."
Ethra took a moment to catch her breath and realized that Snape, too, was breathing hard, his breath warm against her face and neck. She gazed into his face, glaring intently.
Finally, Snape spoke, getting even closer to her face. "What do you want with me, anyway? Are you trying to bait me? Is this some sort of pathetic plea for affection?" He whispered hotly.
She turned her face up toward his, their mouths dangerously close. "What," She whispered, "do you want with me?"
They were so close now, that they were breathing the same warm breath, nearly panting with something between anger and...well, probably lust, I would imagine.
Ethra felt her eyelids get heavy as she minutely tilted her head up, her mouth, up, toward his...
Suddenly, from her left and his right, there was a loud banging noise as the classroom door burst open.
"Sorry, Professor, I forgot my-"
Snape jumped back from Ethra who absentmindedly took ahold of her shirt, which she realized was still only halfway buttoned.
In the doorway stood a tall, lean-looking blonde with menacing blue eyes and a permanent sneer.
"M-Malfoy..." Snape managed out, trying to regain his composure. In their small wrestling match, his greasy hair had moved out of place, a lot of it into his eyes, and there was sweat on his forehead and upper lip.
Malfoy looked from Ethra to Snape to Ethra to Snape, and his eyes welled up with confusion and tears. He opened his mouth to say something, and then, finally, slinked back into the hallway, and took off running for the stairs.
Ethra and Snape looked at one another. Suddenly, the black haired man strode toward her quickly, and pushed her back against the blackboard. He thrust his lips to hers. They were, as one would imagine, hard and maybe a little chapped, his kiss forceful. Ethra, her eyes still open with surprise, noticed in bemusement that his were closed. As she felt hers flutter shut, the warmth was abruptly ended and Snape stepped back, grabbed her tie and bag, and shoved them into her arms.
"Call me Severus." He said briskly, and pushed her out the threshold, slamming the heavy dungeon door shut behind her.
"I wonder if he remembers I have detention tomorrow night?" She wondered aloud.