"Miss Granger! Kindly keep your hands off my person!"
"I can't help it, sir." Severus Snape's heart stopped -
"Miss Granger-"
"I'm sorry, Professor, but the other tourists are shoving. I didn't mean to run into you, honestly." - and started again.
He looked out among the sea of muggles jarring him and his student, and set his death glare on 'melt'. Everything in their immediate vicinity stopped dead, then backed away very, very slowly.
"Come along, Miss Granger."
"Severus! Severus! I wondered if I might have a word-"
"Headmaster, I can hardly banish you. Say what you must." He could actually sense the doom. Dumbledore only called on him when it was something he would stoutly refuse to do until hog-tied, threatened, and volunteered against his will.
"This invitation just arrived on my desk. Do you know of the conference in British Columbia? Starting tomorrow, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir. I was intending-"
"You really should go."
"I understand that my duties at Hogwarts are far more importa- What did you say?"
"Good! I knew you'd agree!"
Before he could get in another word, a bit of paper had been promptly shoved into his hands through the fireplace and the meddling old fool's face had vanished. The invitation had read as thus:
Dear Potions Masters and Mistresses:
There has been a change of plans in the schedule of our meeting. We are going to be lucky enough to have Professor Darling speak. As many of you already know, Professor Darling is Potions Master at Enfalac School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Nunavut. Not only that, but he is a recipient of The Order of Merlin, Second Class, for his multiple discoveries in the field of medicinal potions.
The Ministry of Magic has made suggestions for some alterations in the Potions curriculum, and Professor Darling will be presenting an introductory course for the program. All those attending are asked to bring along their top student, so that in this preparatory phase we can have the input of our minors.
The letter went on and on about the prestige of the whole thing, and Severus found himself reaching into his desk and biting the cap off a Butterbeer. The thought of three days rooming with Draco Malfoy in Canada made his stomach churn. He took a gulp of the warming fluid and wondered in passing if his situation could worsen at all. Then he spotted Dumbledore's note in the border of the letter:
Severus: Have reviewed potions marks over past seven years just now. Miss Granger has been informed, is currently packing a few belongings, will meet you on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow. Substitute teacher already arranged. Enjoy Canada.
He had smacked his head into the stone wall of his office, but was relieved to think that things could only get better.
P.S.: House points cannot be removed off school grounds.
"Hey, hey, Ernie! Slow down for a moment! The passengers aren't all in yet!" Oh Merlin, they still had the shrunken head. He closed his eyes and tried to make his migraine go away through willpower alone. Failing in this, he snatched his satchel from Granger and yanked out a headache remedy and some Butterbeer.
Waiting until the bus wasn't swerving quite so much, he yanked the lid off the remedy and gulped it down, then popped the cap of the Butterbeer and downed a portion of it as well. Granger was eyeing him in a most disturbing manner.
"Miss Granger?"
"Sir?"
"What is it that you're staring at?"
"Nothing! Nothing, sir." She turned away, blushing, to look across the aisle at a few of the other passengers, most of which were vomiting into small bags. Snape was looking at her, deep in thought. Some liquid splashed onto his hand, and he looked down. His Butterbeer had sloshed a little.
He tried to remember the last time he'd eaten. Not lunch, he'd had to skip it to be on time for Granger, but he'd managed to get some breakfast. Granger had probably skipped both: Breakfast so she could go around to all his colleagues and ask for assignments, and lunch to be at the train on time. He looked at his Butterbeer again, then conjured a glass.
"Drink, Miss Granger. If you collapse, I will be held responsible. I would very much dislike scraping what's left of you off the window and bringing you back to Hogwarts in a bucket." She had smiled weakly at this, only to receive a chilling sneer in return.
"Thank you, sir. Cheers."
He mumbled something that sounded almost, but not quite like 'Cheers.' in return, then turned and looked out the window. Five seconds later, this was marked down as a Poor Decision, and he was looking straight forward, his pale face tinged green.
"Professor? Are you carsick?" His jaw set and began ticking.
"Miss Granger, contrary to popular belief, you need not know everything. Be silent and drink."
"Yes sir."
A few hours and bags of sick later, the Knight Bus was parked outside the Rosedale on Robson. He couldn't even begin to comprehend why Dumbledore had booked them into a muggle hotel. He gave the lobby a once-over, deemed it satisfactory, and set about getting his room. He walked up to the uniformed woman behind the front desk.
"I have a reservation. My name is Snape." The young woman tapped something on her computer, then retrieved a key from the rack behind her. Smiling, she passed it to him over the desk.
"Enjoy your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Snape." He jumped, suddenly transformed from civil to sour. He scowled and snatched the key from the woman, then hoisted his luggage and headed for the stairs. Just as he reached the first step, he was aware of a small, delicate hand on his arm. Belonging to Granger.
"What. Is. It." He barely managed to speak through his clenched teeth.
"Our room's on the top floor, Professor. Couldn't we take the elevator?"
"The elevator."
"Yes."
"Which would be where?"
The insolent girl pointed at a silver box at the end of the lobby. He took a deep breath and stalked over to it, Granger in tow. Entering the mysterious box, he watched as Granger pressed a button in the wall. The box began to rise, making his stomach lurch. The muggles in the room with them seemed unconcerned, so he did his best to look as if he rode elevators for a living. He was a Slytherin, so he was possessed by a natural instinct to be above everyone else.
The box made quite a few stops for the other passengers before jolting to a halt at his floor. He strode out purposefully, hiding the fact that he was weaving as best he could. Granger walked out behind him, completely fine. He strode off in the general direction of their room number, Granger having to race to catch up. He arrived at the door first, yanked the key from her grasp, and unlocked the door.
"As much as I should like to spend my remaining days as a doorstop, Miss Granger, Hogwarts is without a competent potions professor." The girl blushed again and entered the room.
Snape made a cursory inspection of the living room/kitchen and bathroom, finding them to his liking. The bedroom, however, was not. Nor was the owl tapping at the bedroom window.
He handed the owl a treat from his pocket, then read the note.
Severus,
Apologies for the accommodations. It was the only room left when I called. The conference is being held in the conference room in the hotel. Hope you're enjoying yourself, but doubtful. Please give my best to Miss Granger.
Albus
Severus snorted and dropped the paper on the table. Granger looked at him questioningly, but he didn't bother to sate her curiosity. Instead, he ripped the duvet off the one king-sized bed and dragged it out into the living room, laying it on the couch. No protest was made.
"Miss Granger." He spoke softly, once he had his fury in check to the point where he trusted himself to open his mouth.
"Yes?" He decided to ignore the forgotten use of 'sir'.
"You will go unpack, then go to bed." She nodded, businesslike.
"Goodnight, Professor." He didn't offer any response, but dragged his satchel into his lap and began to remove things. Two books, a set of black robes, an extra set of black muggle clothes to match what he was already wearing, and a pair of blue, striped pajamas.
Finding the bathroom closed off and occupied, he quickly stripped down to his underwear. He was just buttoning up the top when Miss Granger walked out of the bathroom, dressed in a red nightie. She had a book under her arm, and her hair was frizzier than usual thanks to the brushing she had just given it. Realizing he was staring, he refocused on his book and pushed her out of his mind.
A light clicked on in the adjoining room. There was the sound of shuffling, a contented sigh, then the noise of a book opening. Snape realized he was very unaccustomed to sharing his quarters if he could hear a book opening from twenty feet away. He couldn't even hear the street below. A quill was now scratching. He snarled and stared at his book, determined not to lose concentration.
His eyes eventually betrayed him and refused to stay open and working properly. He clicked off his lamp and burrowed down into his makeshift bed, cursing Dumbledore and his meddling ways.
Some of you may recognize my Pen Name from another SS/HG fic, Lie Like We Do. FFdN has seen fit to remove this story from the fanfiction archives because it was chat based, so it can no longer be found here. If anybody wishes to read more of this fic, please feel free to e-mail me.
Disclaimer: I also must say that I don't own Harry Potter, and I don't really want to. I mean, you have to think, 'With all that money, is Joanne really happy?' She is? Oh. Never mind.
/Sigerson
"I can't help it, sir." Severus Snape's heart stopped -
"Miss Granger-"
"I'm sorry, Professor, but the other tourists are shoving. I didn't mean to run into you, honestly." - and started again.
He looked out among the sea of muggles jarring him and his student, and set his death glare on 'melt'. Everything in their immediate vicinity stopped dead, then backed away very, very slowly.
"Come along, Miss Granger."
###
Snape's mind was currently chasing itself in circles. Why was it always him?"Severus! Severus! I wondered if I might have a word-"
"Headmaster, I can hardly banish you. Say what you must." He could actually sense the doom. Dumbledore only called on him when it was something he would stoutly refuse to do until hog-tied, threatened, and volunteered against his will.
"This invitation just arrived on my desk. Do you know of the conference in British Columbia? Starting tomorrow, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir. I was intending-"
"You really should go."
"I understand that my duties at Hogwarts are far more importa- What did you say?"
"Good! I knew you'd agree!"
Before he could get in another word, a bit of paper had been promptly shoved into his hands through the fireplace and the meddling old fool's face had vanished. The invitation had read as thus:
Dear Potions Masters and Mistresses:
There has been a change of plans in the schedule of our meeting. We are going to be lucky enough to have Professor Darling speak. As many of you already know, Professor Darling is Potions Master at Enfalac School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Nunavut. Not only that, but he is a recipient of The Order of Merlin, Second Class, for his multiple discoveries in the field of medicinal potions.
The Ministry of Magic has made suggestions for some alterations in the Potions curriculum, and Professor Darling will be presenting an introductory course for the program. All those attending are asked to bring along their top student, so that in this preparatory phase we can have the input of our minors.
The letter went on and on about the prestige of the whole thing, and Severus found himself reaching into his desk and biting the cap off a Butterbeer. The thought of three days rooming with Draco Malfoy in Canada made his stomach churn. He took a gulp of the warming fluid and wondered in passing if his situation could worsen at all. Then he spotted Dumbledore's note in the border of the letter:
Severus: Have reviewed potions marks over past seven years just now. Miss Granger has been informed, is currently packing a few belongings, will meet you on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow. Substitute teacher already arranged. Enjoy Canada.
He had smacked his head into the stone wall of his office, but was relieved to think that things could only get better.
P.S.: House points cannot be removed off school grounds.
###
So here he was, almost powerless against whatever stunt Granger decided to pull, getting into the Knight Bus so he could tour B.C."Hey, hey, Ernie! Slow down for a moment! The passengers aren't all in yet!" Oh Merlin, they still had the shrunken head. He closed his eyes and tried to make his migraine go away through willpower alone. Failing in this, he snatched his satchel from Granger and yanked out a headache remedy and some Butterbeer.
Waiting until the bus wasn't swerving quite so much, he yanked the lid off the remedy and gulped it down, then popped the cap of the Butterbeer and downed a portion of it as well. Granger was eyeing him in a most disturbing manner.
"Miss Granger?"
"Sir?"
"What is it that you're staring at?"
"Nothing! Nothing, sir." She turned away, blushing, to look across the aisle at a few of the other passengers, most of which were vomiting into small bags. Snape was looking at her, deep in thought. Some liquid splashed onto his hand, and he looked down. His Butterbeer had sloshed a little.
He tried to remember the last time he'd eaten. Not lunch, he'd had to skip it to be on time for Granger, but he'd managed to get some breakfast. Granger had probably skipped both: Breakfast so she could go around to all his colleagues and ask for assignments, and lunch to be at the train on time. He looked at his Butterbeer again, then conjured a glass.
"Drink, Miss Granger. If you collapse, I will be held responsible. I would very much dislike scraping what's left of you off the window and bringing you back to Hogwarts in a bucket." She had smiled weakly at this, only to receive a chilling sneer in return.
"Thank you, sir. Cheers."
He mumbled something that sounded almost, but not quite like 'Cheers.' in return, then turned and looked out the window. Five seconds later, this was marked down as a Poor Decision, and he was looking straight forward, his pale face tinged green.
"Professor? Are you carsick?" His jaw set and began ticking.
"Miss Granger, contrary to popular belief, you need not know everything. Be silent and drink."
"Yes sir."
A few hours and bags of sick later, the Knight Bus was parked outside the Rosedale on Robson. He couldn't even begin to comprehend why Dumbledore had booked them into a muggle hotel. He gave the lobby a once-over, deemed it satisfactory, and set about getting his room. He walked up to the uniformed woman behind the front desk.
"I have a reservation. My name is Snape." The young woman tapped something on her computer, then retrieved a key from the rack behind her. Smiling, she passed it to him over the desk.
"Enjoy your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Snape." He jumped, suddenly transformed from civil to sour. He scowled and snatched the key from the woman, then hoisted his luggage and headed for the stairs. Just as he reached the first step, he was aware of a small, delicate hand on his arm. Belonging to Granger.
"What. Is. It." He barely managed to speak through his clenched teeth.
"Our room's on the top floor, Professor. Couldn't we take the elevator?"
"The elevator."
"Yes."
"Which would be where?"
The insolent girl pointed at a silver box at the end of the lobby. He took a deep breath and stalked over to it, Granger in tow. Entering the mysterious box, he watched as Granger pressed a button in the wall. The box began to rise, making his stomach lurch. The muggles in the room with them seemed unconcerned, so he did his best to look as if he rode elevators for a living. He was a Slytherin, so he was possessed by a natural instinct to be above everyone else.
The box made quite a few stops for the other passengers before jolting to a halt at his floor. He strode out purposefully, hiding the fact that he was weaving as best he could. Granger walked out behind him, completely fine. He strode off in the general direction of their room number, Granger having to race to catch up. He arrived at the door first, yanked the key from her grasp, and unlocked the door.
"As much as I should like to spend my remaining days as a doorstop, Miss Granger, Hogwarts is without a competent potions professor." The girl blushed again and entered the room.
Snape made a cursory inspection of the living room/kitchen and bathroom, finding them to his liking. The bedroom, however, was not. Nor was the owl tapping at the bedroom window.
He handed the owl a treat from his pocket, then read the note.
Severus,
Apologies for the accommodations. It was the only room left when I called. The conference is being held in the conference room in the hotel. Hope you're enjoying yourself, but doubtful. Please give my best to Miss Granger.
Albus
Severus snorted and dropped the paper on the table. Granger looked at him questioningly, but he didn't bother to sate her curiosity. Instead, he ripped the duvet off the one king-sized bed and dragged it out into the living room, laying it on the couch. No protest was made.
"Miss Granger." He spoke softly, once he had his fury in check to the point where he trusted himself to open his mouth.
"Yes?" He decided to ignore the forgotten use of 'sir'.
"You will go unpack, then go to bed." She nodded, businesslike.
"Goodnight, Professor." He didn't offer any response, but dragged his satchel into his lap and began to remove things. Two books, a set of black robes, an extra set of black muggle clothes to match what he was already wearing, and a pair of blue, striped pajamas.
Finding the bathroom closed off and occupied, he quickly stripped down to his underwear. He was just buttoning up the top when Miss Granger walked out of the bathroom, dressed in a red nightie. She had a book under her arm, and her hair was frizzier than usual thanks to the brushing she had just given it. Realizing he was staring, he refocused on his book and pushed her out of his mind.
A light clicked on in the adjoining room. There was the sound of shuffling, a contented sigh, then the noise of a book opening. Snape realized he was very unaccustomed to sharing his quarters if he could hear a book opening from twenty feet away. He couldn't even hear the street below. A quill was now scratching. He snarled and stared at his book, determined not to lose concentration.
His eyes eventually betrayed him and refused to stay open and working properly. He clicked off his lamp and burrowed down into his makeshift bed, cursing Dumbledore and his meddling ways.
###
A/N: If you've gotten to this point in the story and you're actually reading my two paragraphs of blather, I really hope you're intending to review. You seem like a patient person, dear reader. Please take pity on the hungry author. Constructive criticsm would be greatly appreciated.Some of you may recognize my Pen Name from another SS/HG fic, Lie Like We Do. FFdN has seen fit to remove this story from the fanfiction archives because it was chat based, so it can no longer be found here. If anybody wishes to read more of this fic, please feel free to e-mail me.
Disclaimer: I also must say that I don't own Harry Potter, and I don't really want to. I mean, you have to think, 'With all that money, is Joanne really happy?' She is? Oh. Never mind.
/Sigerson