Hello!

Welcome to this new collection of one-shots and drabbles. Some will be complete crack, some will be a bit more serious, and there will probably be one or two sad ones in the mix. They will range from one sentence to a few thousands words. Some will go AU, some will be canon. I can take prompts if you fancy giving me one. And, in the rare chance that you feel inspired by one of my ideas and want to use it in your own writing, all I ask is that you tell me so I can read it :-)

I plan on publishing one every weekend, until I have no more. I have enough to last until the end of january for now. Please remember that there will be tiny shorty ones too.

Of course, I don't own the Harry Potter verse, I just play in it. I'm also very much French, and I don't have a beta, so if you spot a typo or misuse of the English language, I am entirely responsible for it. You can of course tell me about it, it will allow me to perfect my craft.

This first installment is one of the longer ones, and the one which prompted me to write more. Hope you enjoy it!

Red nose and better things

Severus was glowing today. It was peculiar. He was also obviously in pain. Nobody else noticed, except maybe Filius but he would never tell, Minerva knew that. She knew the young man. After seven years of teaching him, and more than fifteen seeing him struggling to pass on his art to his students, she knew Severus Snape more than he knew himself. The act he showed the world, perfected to the tiniest detail, she saw right through it. He wasn't as despicable as he pretended, and she wondered how everyone else fell for it. Surely, Dumbledore must have had some doubts? Alas, she also knew her former headmaster. He, as unbelievable as it seemed to most of the wizarding world, was the treacherous bastard between the two.

Minerva shook her head. No need to go down this road again. The old fool was dead and buried, and continuing to feed her anger toward him served no purpose. She lost so many students, so many years of her life under his thumb, it was unfathomable.

She kept an eye on Severus through the whole meal. Taking care of him proved to be a hassle. Pretending to hate him, not so much. He was acting like an arse, after all. And when it wasn't enough, she just had to think about some white bearded old crow to get that disgusted sneer all over her face. The ones she truly despised, and whom she had to pretend to tolerate, were not there yet. They usually lazed in the morning, eating breakfast in their shared quarters. Oh, how she would love to glue them together when they did the unspeakable between the sheets. She knew. Filius, and Severus too, she was sure of it. The rest of the faculty? Albus, the old cow, had recruited them well, all oblivious fools they were.

She shook her head again. She had trouble reigning in her thoughts today. Severus was unwell, he was in pain. It felt… different somehow too. What did he had to endure at the hands of his master last night? She was worried. The almost imperceptible twitch in his hand was a tell, as wide as ten Atlantic oceans, that he was absolute shit.

She moved her spoon slightly to the left, not much, one or two degrees perhaps. Taking his fork to eat some scrambled eggs, his plate rotated as much, seemingly by accident.

They would meet in his office before lunch, then. She had a free period, and the Carrows, those incestuous little… She blinked. Reign in. Reign in. She tried to breath the mantra. Those fuckers (and that was the politest term she could come up with) would be taken at that time, teaching children how to properly torture. They would have time to talk, and maybe, maybe, she could help him for a minute or two.

If only they knew what Potter and his two minions were doing, they could have lent them a hand. But no, the old pig had to send them to some secret quest that would surely get them killed!

Breath. Breath.

Teaching was a nightmare this year, more so than any other year when the old fart was ruling the school like a mad king. She had to pretend that seeing black eyes and tremors on her students was perfectly normal. She had to favour the purebloods, the right kind of purebloods even, putting the mudbloods at the far end of her classroom so they didn't have to suffer their sight. She felt the fire, this ever-burning raging roaring raving inferno in her chest, begging to be let loose. But she couldn't. Killing the Carrows would be counterproductive. Keeping them around was actually the best way to protect the kids. They were monstrous, but they were a known quantity. It wasn't too hard to run circles around them, and they were pants at quelling the rising rebellion amongst students. Gutting them to be fed to the accromantulas would be a disaster all in all. Voldemort could appoint someone far more dangerous and smarter. They weren't innocuous, far from it. They were right bastards, but they were on the low end of the cunning spectrum. The Dark Lord had far, far worse in his arsenal. She shuddered at the mere thought of what Augustus Rookwood or Ramsay Burton could do if they had the opportunity. She couldn't risk it. This was the only reason why she hadn't skinned them alive yet. She knew Filius had the exact same dilemma every second of every day since the moment they set foot in the castle.

Teaching this year was horrid. Yet, there were little joys, and she was treasuring them. Like slipping a list of books to Longbottom, the ones detailing guerrilla tactics of the 20th century. What if she had to transfigure back the Carrow's bed at two a.m. because it became an octopus set on choking them? Like giving pointers to Weasley about how to remove paint from the walls, and consequently detailing all the ways to make paint unremovable. She loved to see that new art called graffiti sprouting all over the castle. Like having an open discussion with Lovegood about the enchantments on her roaring hat and seeing some practical application by inspired fellow students in the form of a swarm of horny hippogriffs diligently following the cursed siblings for a whole week. Some of those young people were highly motivated to work on extracurricular projects and who was she to deny them the opportunity to improve their practical skills?

Finally finding a good topic to focus on, Minerva was almost smiling when she entered the headmaster's office before lunch.

Severus was seating at his desk. The office had undergone a drastic change in decoration since he took over. The portraits, those meddlesome gossiping portraits, were put to sleep. The eerie silence, only broken by the scratch of Severus' quill was refreshing. No more twirling chirping instruments, nor gaudy chairs. Just a simple wooden desk, common chairs and a side table with a simmering cauldron, smelling like…

"Is it Amortensia?" she asked, a shiver running down her spine. Amortensia was very potent, and the fumes alone had an effect.

She pursed her lips. She was horny now, and he knew it, if the light upturn of his lips were any indication.

"A modified version, yes. This one reacts particularly well when associated with stone." he sneered.

"I'll be sorry to see two of our esteemed professors trying to sweet talk the gargoyles tomorrow." she sighted. Really, really sorry. So much that she was already planning on how to slip a vial, or two, to miss Brown.

"It would be… unsettling, yes." The man added.

Minerva shuddered and shut the door.

"So, what is bothering you?" he asked candidly, when she sat in front of him.

Sometimes, they loved to play with words and hidden meanings, and sometimes they just needed to let go of everything and be bare. Today, Severus was blunt.

"Besides the usual?" she responded in kind. "You."

"Me?" he rose an eyebrow.

"You've been crucioed and Merlin knows what else. What did he do to you this time?" She huffed.

Severus winced. Well, he didn't show anything, per se, but she knew him well. He winced. Even after all those years of being in each other corner, he still hated to show any kind of vulnerability. And he despised it even more when she saw right through him.

"Cruciatus, mainly. He wasn't in a creative mode. I was lucky, I was at the end of the line. Three of my comrades" he almost spat the word, "took the brunt of it. He kept them under the spell so long that their brain burst. Nagini had a feast."

Minerva closed her eyes briefly. She didn't ask for names anymore. She learned to stop trying to know a long time ago. She probably knew them, the chances they were her students at some point were high. Knowing whole generations of wizards and witches was a blessing and a curse at the same time. Whenever someone died in this fucking war, she knew them. Whenever she read their names in obituary, or heard them in this wonderful radio show by the Weasley twins, she saw their faces. The faces of children, so full of life and innocent mischief. So, she didn't ask their names anymore. She preferred to imagine three faceless, masked puppets which had their strings severed by their cruel master. At least, now, they could rest free from his twisted ways. Death was their mercy. She dearly wished mercy upon all the masked fools.

"What got him so…?"

She hadn't learned not to ask why the madman was mad yet. She probably would never learn that particular lesson, she reckoned.

"Someone sent him a gift for Halloween. He killed the owl, naturally. The poor beast was so old, it crashed on his throne. He probably did it a favour, actually."

After a moment of silence, Minerva raised her own eyebrow. Severus was… amused?

"What gift?"

"Oh, nothing much. A red nose. You know, the kind the muggle clowns wear."

Her jaw dropped. Severus was openly smiling now. She almost didn't register this rare sight.

Someone…? A muggle clown nose…? Her brain had a hard time processing the words. No wonder he tortured his own servants to death. His wrath must have gone… bonkers.

She laughed. A full belly, body shuddering, laugh.

"Oh, I'll have to kiss Fred and George next time I see them." She finally said when she regained control of her mouth.

She snickered. It would actually be a great prank to really kiss them, in front of witnesses. They would never see it coming. War did strange things to people, her included.

"They're not the senders."

Severus preened like a peacock. Well, his chest rose slightly, but Minerva knew how to read him.

"You mean…?"

"For a few Cruciatus? Worth it." He quirked his mouth.

Minerva looked at him for a second, gobsmacked. Then, she made good on her promise. She'd just declared that she would kiss the senders after all. That the senders were only one Severus Tobias Snape was the icing on the cake.

Or the lips, in this case.

And man, she would make sure there were no icing left on his lips, nor his tongue…? She moaned in surprise when he opened his mouth to taste her.

For the first time in her teaching career, Minerva willingly missed a meal at the high table in the Great Hall. Rejoicing in the little things was paramount in those darkened times, even if the little thing was attached to one Severus Tobias Snape. And, particularly, when the man proved he knew how to use the little thing to make great things.

Yes, she had better things to do.