Random Stupidity
by Ethra Esme
A/N: Sorry about this one. Another half-angst-er.
Chapter Eighteen
Gag Me With a Spoon
Ethra knocked Harry off her and he went flying practically across the room. She jumped out of the chair and looked wildly at Severus. His gaze was cold, but revealed no feeling whatsoever.
"It's not what it looks-"
"They want you in the kitchen." He said darkly.
"Alright." She left the room behind Severus, who didn't hold the door for her.
He again didn't hold the door into the kitchen and she smacked herself on the nose running into it. She saw Severus smirk, but that didn't mean anything, since even if they were on good terms he would still laugh at her pain.
The room was practically packed, with more people in the room than she knew the names of. She recognised Dumbledore, of course, who motioned for her to sit across from him, at the other end of the table from his.
She did so and looked at her hands, her gaze traveling up to the blackening Dark Mark on her forearm.
"We have one of two choices, here. Mostly because the author, you know."
There was a small murmur of ascent and then silence again.
"You can either go with Severus to the Death Eater meetings, or he can report back to them saying he is simply playing you for information. Severus deems it safer for him to make it seem he is using you-"
Ethra looked up at Severus, who looked away quickly.
-but Mr. Lupin is very insistant on you going to the meetings for some reason."
Remus grinned at her from behind Dumbledore's back, and Ethra quirked an eyebrow.
"The choice is up to you." The old wizard concluded.
"Wh..what does Sev- Professor Snape want me to do?" She asked hesitantly.
"Frankly, Headmaster, I would prefer to have the girl out of my hair as much as possible." He said, still not looking at her. "She has a tendancy to...royally fuck things up."
He finally looked at her, and this time it was a cold, appraising gaze paired with a smug twitch of the upper lip. Ethra glared at him quietly.
'Bastard.' She thought bitterly.
"Alright, fine, I'll do what Snape wants. Does that mean I go back to the school?"
"Yes, but you will be constantly watched by Professor Lupin."
"What about Bowie?"
"Erm...." Dumbledore blushed. "He has proved...a little unfit for the position. Er, no, wrong choice of words..he-"
"We kicked him out because he can't go two seconds without banging your little friend McDuff." McGonnagal broke in, impatiently.
"Oh." Ethra nodded. "Where is Addie?"
"Two guesses." McGonnagal answered. "They're actually supposed to be out doing Order work. God only knows where they are."
"How come SHE gets to do Order work?" Ethra whined.
"Because the author doesn't know what to do with her character right now." Lupin sighed.
"Oh."
"Well, I suppose that's it." Dumbledore smiled, still obviously flustered by the sexual nature of the conversation. "You can go back to the school with Severus, Ethra."
"Oh, JOY." Snape muttered under his breath. He threw some floo powder into the fireplace and shoved her in the minute it turned green. She muttered her destination and wound up sprawled on Snape's chamber floor.
"At least I'm not unconscious."
Severus was next through the fireplace. He stepped over her body, "accidentally" kicking her foot.
"Owwwww!" She whined, getting up quickly. "What the fuck is your problem?" She said irratably, following him as he headed for his washroom. "You don't honestly think I wanted Harry to...do...that to me, do you?"
"I don't really care." He answered uninterestedly. They were both in the bathroom now, and Ethra could see herself and him in the dingy reflection. She looked like shit, her eyes swollen from fatigue, and she was wearing something of Molly's that fit her quite poorly.
She turned away from herself and folded her arms, determined to be mad at Severus instead of hurt.
"You don't care."
"I believe I said that, already." He removed his cloak, revealing a white long-sleeve shirt and black dress pants. He began to unbutton his shirt. She watched him, fascinated. She had never seen him with such a lack of clothing before.
He was pale, but he was pale everywhere, so at least his skin tone was even. He was pretty much hairless, too. Like, I guess, one of those cats or something...
But as he removed his shirt, she saw that he had scars. A lot of scars. Some thin, cut-like ones, other bigger marks that looked like they had been burned in.
She folded her arms and leaned against the wall beside her. Nice and cold, much like the rest of the dungeons.
He glared at her and took a step forward, pushing her with her back against the wall and putting both arms on either side of her head, basically pinning her.
"You smell like chemicals." She commented. "Like an embalmed body or something."
He leaned down and kissed her hard, but she pushed him away, much to her own disgust.
"What is this, your sort of punishment to me?" She asked heatedly, as he leaned against the bathroom sink.
"Do you WANT me to punish you?"
....
"...." Ethra cocked her head. "Cut it out. I'm going to bed."
"Whose bed?"
"MY bed. Look, I know you're just making fun of me."
"...I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"No. I'm not." He stepped forward, in his usual quick manner, but without the agression. "If you say that you aren't...with Potter, I believe you, alright? If I'm angry, it's...for other reasons..." He looked disgruntled again and walked out of the room, sitting on the edge of his bed to remove his shoes.
"Why are you angry, then? Are you angry at me?"
"A little."
"WHY?"
"Well, you're annoying as hell. And maddeningly frustrating." He took off a shoe and looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "And I actually like being around you. And that makes me angry at myself." He finished quickly.
"That's just...stupid." She rolled her eyes and turned to leave, but he grabbed her by the waist and hauled her backward, pushing her onto the bed. He layed down next to her, sighing heavily.
"God, I hate you." He growled.
"I hate you, too." She replied, amused.
She noticed him rubbing his Dark Mark. (Did that just sound dirty, or is it late at night?)
She took his arm and he pulled away out of instinct, but she clawed him a good one and he let her turn his arm over. His Mark was very black, and, when she touched it, was even warm to the touch.
"God, we're pathetic." She sighed, throwing his arm back at him.
"Yes. We are." He mumbled agreeably.
He repositioned himself on the bed so that his head was on the pillow and she curled up next to him, after kicking off her sandals.
"I apologise in advance if I strangle you during the night." He mumbled sleepily.
"That's alright, I'd strangle myself, too."
Wouldn't we all.
by Ethra Esme
A/N: Sorry about this one. Another half-angst-er.
Chapter Eighteen
Gag Me With a Spoon
Ethra knocked Harry off her and he went flying practically across the room. She jumped out of the chair and looked wildly at Severus. His gaze was cold, but revealed no feeling whatsoever.
"It's not what it looks-"
"They want you in the kitchen." He said darkly.
"Alright." She left the room behind Severus, who didn't hold the door for her.
He again didn't hold the door into the kitchen and she smacked herself on the nose running into it. She saw Severus smirk, but that didn't mean anything, since even if they were on good terms he would still laugh at her pain.
The room was practically packed, with more people in the room than she knew the names of. She recognised Dumbledore, of course, who motioned for her to sit across from him, at the other end of the table from his.
She did so and looked at her hands, her gaze traveling up to the blackening Dark Mark on her forearm.
"We have one of two choices, here. Mostly because the author, you know."
There was a small murmur of ascent and then silence again.
"You can either go with Severus to the Death Eater meetings, or he can report back to them saying he is simply playing you for information. Severus deems it safer for him to make it seem he is using you-"
Ethra looked up at Severus, who looked away quickly.
-but Mr. Lupin is very insistant on you going to the meetings for some reason."
Remus grinned at her from behind Dumbledore's back, and Ethra quirked an eyebrow.
"The choice is up to you." The old wizard concluded.
"Wh..what does Sev- Professor Snape want me to do?" She asked hesitantly.
"Frankly, Headmaster, I would prefer to have the girl out of my hair as much as possible." He said, still not looking at her. "She has a tendancy to...royally fuck things up."
He finally looked at her, and this time it was a cold, appraising gaze paired with a smug twitch of the upper lip. Ethra glared at him quietly.
'Bastard.' She thought bitterly.
"Alright, fine, I'll do what Snape wants. Does that mean I go back to the school?"
"Yes, but you will be constantly watched by Professor Lupin."
"What about Bowie?"
"Erm...." Dumbledore blushed. "He has proved...a little unfit for the position. Er, no, wrong choice of words..he-"
"We kicked him out because he can't go two seconds without banging your little friend McDuff." McGonnagal broke in, impatiently.
"Oh." Ethra nodded. "Where is Addie?"
"Two guesses." McGonnagal answered. "They're actually supposed to be out doing Order work. God only knows where they are."
"How come SHE gets to do Order work?" Ethra whined.
"Because the author doesn't know what to do with her character right now." Lupin sighed.
"Oh."
"Well, I suppose that's it." Dumbledore smiled, still obviously flustered by the sexual nature of the conversation. "You can go back to the school with Severus, Ethra."
"Oh, JOY." Snape muttered under his breath. He threw some floo powder into the fireplace and shoved her in the minute it turned green. She muttered her destination and wound up sprawled on Snape's chamber floor.
"At least I'm not unconscious."
Severus was next through the fireplace. He stepped over her body, "accidentally" kicking her foot.
"Owwwww!" She whined, getting up quickly. "What the fuck is your problem?" She said irratably, following him as he headed for his washroom. "You don't honestly think I wanted Harry to...do...that to me, do you?"
"I don't really care." He answered uninterestedly. They were both in the bathroom now, and Ethra could see herself and him in the dingy reflection. She looked like shit, her eyes swollen from fatigue, and she was wearing something of Molly's that fit her quite poorly.
She turned away from herself and folded her arms, determined to be mad at Severus instead of hurt.
"You don't care."
"I believe I said that, already." He removed his cloak, revealing a white long-sleeve shirt and black dress pants. He began to unbutton his shirt. She watched him, fascinated. She had never seen him with such a lack of clothing before.
He was pale, but he was pale everywhere, so at least his skin tone was even. He was pretty much hairless, too. Like, I guess, one of those cats or something...
But as he removed his shirt, she saw that he had scars. A lot of scars. Some thin, cut-like ones, other bigger marks that looked like they had been burned in.
She folded her arms and leaned against the wall beside her. Nice and cold, much like the rest of the dungeons.
He glared at her and took a step forward, pushing her with her back against the wall and putting both arms on either side of her head, basically pinning her.
"You smell like chemicals." She commented. "Like an embalmed body or something."
He leaned down and kissed her hard, but she pushed him away, much to her own disgust.
"What is this, your sort of punishment to me?" She asked heatedly, as he leaned against the bathroom sink.
"Do you WANT me to punish you?"
....
"...." Ethra cocked her head. "Cut it out. I'm going to bed."
"Whose bed?"
"MY bed. Look, I know you're just making fun of me."
"...I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"No. I'm not." He stepped forward, in his usual quick manner, but without the agression. "If you say that you aren't...with Potter, I believe you, alright? If I'm angry, it's...for other reasons..." He looked disgruntled again and walked out of the room, sitting on the edge of his bed to remove his shoes.
"Why are you angry, then? Are you angry at me?"
"A little."
"WHY?"
"Well, you're annoying as hell. And maddeningly frustrating." He took off a shoe and looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "And I actually like being around you. And that makes me angry at myself." He finished quickly.
"That's just...stupid." She rolled her eyes and turned to leave, but he grabbed her by the waist and hauled her backward, pushing her onto the bed. He layed down next to her, sighing heavily.
"God, I hate you." He growled.
"I hate you, too." She replied, amused.
She noticed him rubbing his Dark Mark. (Did that just sound dirty, or is it late at night?)
She took his arm and he pulled away out of instinct, but she clawed him a good one and he let her turn his arm over. His Mark was very black, and, when she touched it, was even warm to the touch.
"God, we're pathetic." She sighed, throwing his arm back at him.
"Yes. We are." He mumbled agreeably.
He repositioned himself on the bed so that his head was on the pillow and she curled up next to him, after kicking off her sandals.
"I apologise in advance if I strangle you during the night." He mumbled sleepily.
"That's alright, I'd strangle myself, too."
Wouldn't we all.