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Snape's Point of View 2: Post-HBP PTSS version.

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Old September 29th, 2005, 3:28 pm
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Serpentine  Undisclosed.gif Serpentine is offline
Fifth Year
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Kudos to Lady Rebel and subtle science - I love how your writing is so intense and deeply in character for Snape. The phoenix image was very powerful, as were the depiction of Snape's hiring and the Willow aftermath. Blakeney Green, TBA, Dancing Maenid and MoonysAngel, thanks to you as well for writing so hilarious yet wonderfully Snapey scenes. (Yay for Poker!Snape! And Riker... who'd have thought? ) A great balance of angst and humour in this thread.

(And a belated for subtle science!)

Over at DevSev3 we were talking about Snape's liking for drama and billowy clothes recently... and I was reminded of a fine POV of Snape at the tailor's, posted 2 years ago by ::celeste:: after some discussion about his clothing (and, um, Macarena lessons ). But in a search it wasn't to be found anywhere in the CoS archive - it hadn't been posted in the POV thread, but in AASS2, which had been deleted for size. Luckily I remembered then that I had copied the best of AASS, and dug the tailor scene back out from there. Here is her wonderful text, as a re-post. I hope ::celeste:: won't mind.

::celeste:: on Sept 1st, 2003:

Here it is... hope you enjoy.

Snape’s Trip to the Tailor

Snape narrowed his eyes in a very aggrieved manner as he gazed into his wardrobe. Among the various (or not so various—since the only colors within were various shades of gray and, of course, midnight black) articles of clothing, he could find not one set of teaching robes that did not posses some sort of ghastly stain on them. A few even possessed gaping holes that looked as if acid had eaten right through the fabric. All of them were courtesy of the singular greatest disaster to have ever stumbled and bumbled their way through Potions Class—namely Longbottom.

With a furious scowl he slammed the doors shut and began pacing back and forth like a caged tiger within the confines of his comfortable quarters. The more he tried to think of some solution, including (Merlin forbid) sewing, the more he realized that there was no other way around it.

He was going to have to go shopping.

With a curse that would have made Mad-Eye blush, Snape stormed out of his bedroom and into his sitting room. There, he turned to the portrait of Septimus the XI and carefully tilted the painting aside to reveal his private safe. With a few waves of his wand, the wards dropped away and he whispered the password before tilting the golden latch aside and reaching into the frigid air. Within, his fingers passed by the documents and rather questionable artifacts of a decidedly illegal nature before grasping a light velvet pouch.

He pulled it out and shut the safe, which automatically released his great grandfather back over the wall with a muffled ‘oomph’ before pulling the golden chord open. Inside was his savings for rainy days, otherwise known as the ‘when one of the little dunderheads finally lands me in St. Mungo’s fund’. He quickly riffled through the collection of galleons, mentally counting them, before drawing the pouch back closed and stuffing it within his trouser pocket.

Snape then picked up the cloak and tossed it about his shoulders before stalking his way out of his rooms and further through the dungeons. His walk took him past several students still milling around on the weekend, pesky little things, which hurriedly jumped out of his way as he swept by them. Since his cloak was much heavier than his robes, there was a distinct lack of ominous billowing that the Potions Master felt was very, very, off putting to his usual menacing self.

Perhaps so much so that even Longbottom might not have been quite so frightened as usual, and that unpleasant notion prompted him to throw up the hood to cover most of his face. Ah, he thought as several Hufflepuff third years paled at his passing, much better.

He passed from the Dungeons through the Main Hall rather quickly thanks to his long strides and was out onto the grounds and headed for the boundaries of the anti-apparition wards without anything very notable occurring. Snape disapperated away from Hogwarts with a soft nearly inaudible pop once he was outside of its barriers.

He appeared within Diagon Alley, which was relatively free of any bustling crowds, and quickly made his way through the winding street without so much as a glance at anyone passing by. He was, after all, focused on getting what he needed and then getting out. And with only a cursory glance at the Apothecary’s he turned and headed straight down Knocturn Alley.

Even a few of the hags down here made Snape cringe as he passed them, his nostrils twitching with annoyance as his heightened smell caught whiff of some horrid concoction they sprayed themselves with. He nearly shoved a peg legged man out of the way who was attempting to sell him magical eyes (as if he wanted to look like Moody as it was) and soon came upon the partially hidden entrance to Boris’ Robes. He wrenched open the door and stepped inside.

The shop itself was as he remembered it, decidedly shady with a heavy dose of atmosphere. The dolls wearing the ‘latest’ fashions all pranced around in a decidedly Lockhart manner as the showed off the latest in Wizarding wear, and he was horrified to note the gaudy pastel colors of a few. Boris must have been loosing his ruddy mind.

With a fierce scowl he tugged open his cloak and deposited it neatly on a hook by the door before making his way to the desk. Which was, he was somewhat annoyed to discover, absent of the proprietor. The tiny bell on the counter quickly rang out with a curt smack from Snape.

“Coming,” replied a voice from what he assumed to be a storage room. Snape frowned momentarily. The voice was not the harsh grating tone of Boris, but rather feminine. Snape’s scowl seemed to multiply. Where the bloody hell was Boris?

Soon a figure immerged from the back, and Snape’s scowl turned into a full bloom sneer complete with slight eye twitch. He recognized the girl as non other than Celeste Renair, a girl who he had been more than happy to be rid of when she had graduated from Hogwarts four years prior. He had been quite relieved when the tiny hearts and initials of SS and CR on her Potions Essays stopped flooding in. He didn’t have a very great problem of students with crushes, but when he did they seemed to be extremely persistent. She was no exception.

What was she doing working at a shop in Knocturn alley?

She paused as she took note of who had entered the shop, and her eyes suddenly widened. “Professor Snape!”

His eyes narrowed into slits as he sent her the glare he usually reserved for exceedingly dimwitted children. “Miss Renair.” He replied, wondering if it was too late to turn around and high tail it out of the shop.

“Heh,” she smiled nervously, “been a while.”

“Not nearly long enough.” His eyes seemed to dart between the girl and the exit again.

Her smile faltered a bit, but then brightened nearly four times as much. For a Ravenclaw, she was exceptionally slow on the uptake. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Where is Boris?” Snape asked, with a sliver of hope. Perhaps he was in the back stocking.

“Vacation in Bermuda. I’m helping out while he’s gone.” She informed him in that same cheery voice that never failed to grate on his nerves. “Uncle on my Mum’s side.” She added, and he thought rather unnecessarily.

“Fascinating.” He muttered, glancing again at the door.

“Uh—“ She paused and arched a brow. “You’re missing your robes.”

Snape glared at her. “How very astute.”

A nervous chuckle followed, and he resisted the temptation to just bolt there and then. Robes be ****ed. He could always teach in just his frock coat and be done with it. “I take it you need some new ones?”

Snape mentally sighed and resigned himself to fate. “You would be correct, Renair.” He folded his arms and sent her his most intimidating sneer. Hoping it would discourage her from doing anything—foolish.

“Right.” She stated, her mouth pursing for a moment as she tapped a finger against her chin. “We just received a really handsome velvet set of green from Paris, if you want I could-“

“No,” he said, holding up a hand to stop her before she even got started. He was afraid that if she did, she wouldn’t shut up. “Black. My usual. Make certain they’re spelled to deflect minor hexes and curses as well.”

“Oh.” She seemed slightly crestfallen. “You sure?”

Another glare coupled with a vicious sneer sent her scurrying towards the racks.

It was another ten minutes of fumbling worthy of Longbottom, Snape had watched as she managed to bring down yards of fabric down on her head, feeling uneasy about allowing her near enough to take measurements. The more he watched her wrestle and search for the fabric, the more certain he was that this could only end in misery.

Finally it seemed she had found the right one, and after a quick inspection he nodded his agreement. A less chaotic ten minutes of searching for the right pattern, and she now stood before him with her wand raised and ready to begin the actual fitting.

Snape was, understandably, very concerned.

“You do know what you’re doing?” He asked, as her face became the definitive picture for single-minded concentration.

“Oh yeah,” she replied with a voice that seemed less sure than the words, “piece of cake, really.”

He wondered what sort of cake she ate. Did it have teeth?

“Alright now, here we go.” And there was a flick and swish.

Snape paled as the pins and needles flew at his face while the fabric unwound itself and began draping around his frame. The scissors were a blur, and it was probably for the best he couldn’t tell where they were going, as they began snipping all around him. He looked up and sent a short, but furtive, prayer that all would turn out satisfactory. Then the measuring tape nearly strangled him. “Bloody hell!”

“Sorry about that,” she said apologetically as she gave another flick of the wand- attempting to impose some sort of order onto the chaos. “They don’t really like me. Use to Uncle B. Um, you might want to watch out for the-“


“…pins.” She finished rather sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Thirty minutes went by, and at the end of it Snape was not only livid, but also quite certain that torture by continual poking was something the Dark Lord may have been interested in looking into. Dashed lines of chalk ran across his already pale face, and he was certain he was bleeding in several areas. His eyes flashed as Renair continued to pull on the robes here and there. The fact that she seemed to be paying a bit too much attention to the way they fitted in the back also made him near the point of raging.

Finally she stepped before him and smiled widely at him. “They look great to me, sir! And, if I may add, you look very dashing.”

Snape barely contained his compulsion to reach out and throttle her. Instead he snarled before stepping off the pedestal and began a brisk pace (swoop) back and forth as he studied the mirror. Suddenly, he paused and frowned before turning on Renair with a look of pure contempt. “They aren’t billowing.”

She blinked with a blank expression before asking, in a completely dead pan tone, “Billowing?”

“Yes,” his hands fluttered as he tried to go into details that her flighty mind would follow, “menacing, scare the bejeezus out of little children, ominous tide of doom, billowing.”

“Er..” the dazed and confused look was back, “I always thought that was a walk thing. You know. Your style.”

He pursed his lips and resisted the urge to perform several Unforgivables. “It is, in part, a walk as you put it. But they also need a bit of weighting.”

“Oh. Oh!” She hopped before retrieving her wand (a movement which caused him to wince) and then the scissors and needles were off again.

This time, he came out of it miraculously unscathed and set about gliding again. This time, he was vastly more pleased to note that they did billow more to his satisfaction. He let out a sigh of relief and turned to her, nodding. “Much better.”

She lit up like one of Filius’ ghastly Christmas trees. “Glad to please, Professor.”

Snape decided to ignore the strange inflection in her voice and cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I’ll just pay and be on my way then.”

She seemed deflated for a moment before that grin was back. “Are you certain you don’t need anything else? Perhaps some new underwear?” Before Snape could even make some scathing comment, she was already pulling out several different pairs of hideously colored undergarments. She then held up a pair of green silk boxers, and a rather standard set of white briefs. “Boxers or briefs, Professor?”

Afraid of what he might end up doing, and the time in Azkaban that would accompany any gruesome acts, he slammed down a handful of Galleons and turned on his heal. Swooping in a Snape-ish way to his cloak, tossing it over his shoulders, and quickly bolting through the door as if the very hounds of hell were nipping at his feet.

Celeste, back in the store, watched the door shut with disappointment and sighed as she lowered her hands. “And I was this close to solving the mystery.” She stated sadly before her Ravenclaw intelligence finally seemed to kick in. “Maybe there’s a log!”

With that happy, and disturbingly stalkerish sort of thought, she skipped back behind the counter and hummed as she flipped through the book of purchases in search of the answer.

We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.
Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

(Dumbledore in 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire')

My Snape fanfics: Reflections (F&B), The Red Light of the Sun (F&B), The Trapdoor Trials 1, 2, 3 (in "Snape's POV 2"),
Greetings from Down Under and An Unusual Patronus ... are hereby shamelessly advertised

Last edited by Serpentine; September 29th, 2005 at 5:08 pm.
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Old September 30th, 2005, 2:56 am
Blakeney Green  Female.gif Blakeney Green is offline
Second Year
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Age: 37
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I wrote another thingy. I couldn't sleep last night, and this was the result.

A disclaimer first: This is a Marauder-Era Snape POV, so the Marauders come off rather badly. This is not meant to suggest that this is the only possible interpretation of the their characters. This is just sort of... one way it might have been. If you're absolutely in love with the Marauders, though, and don't want anyone to say anything bad about them, you might want to skip this one.



Severus stood by himself, his back to Hogwarts Castle, watching the sun set over the lake. The evening air was chilly, and he shivered a little in his enormous black sweater. This was his least favourite time of day. For the most part he enjoyed his classes, and he also liked the nights when he could slip off to some quiet corner and read or experiment with a new potion or spell. It was the evenings he hated, because you never knew who was going to be around. You could never get a moment’s peace.

Then he heard them.

“Snivellus? Hey, Snivellus!”

How he’d come to hate that voice! Maybe if he just ignored them…

Severus pressed his face to the window. He wished the dogs wouldn’t come in the garden. They were so bold, so fearless. Once, one summer afternoon when his mother had left the door open to get a bit of breeze, they’d come right into the house looking for food.

They weren’t feral dogs, exactly. They all had collars and owners. Those owners just let them run, though, so they’d formed a sort of pack, and they were a minor terror to the neighbourhood. Just last week one of them had bitten Severus' mother while she was carrying groceries up the front steps. Eileen Snape had just stood there, the blood from the perfect circle of the bite mark dripping down her calf, her face frozen in an expression of disbelief, as if she couldn’t fathom that she’d just been hurt. It was an expression Severus had often seen on her face. He’d begged her to call the police, report what had happened, but she refused. She didn’t want trouble with the neighbours. She never wanted trouble. Not that it mattered.

The dogs came into the garden one by one, sniffing the air expectantly, without the slightest hint of caution. First the fluffy tan one, he was the leader. The two Dalmatians were next, then the brown one. They’d spotted something; Severus wasn’t sure what. The tan one ambled forward lazily, still sniffing. What were they… oh, no! Father had put out the cat…

“Alright, Snivellus?” James Potter was standing right behind him, but Severus refused to turn around.

“Don’t call me that!” he protested half-heartedly, knowing it wasn’t going to do any good.

“Aww… Snivelly doesn’t like his nickname!” Sirius Black chortled.

“Just leave me alone!”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” James moved in front of him so they were face to face. “You didn’t say the magic word.”

Protego!” Severus yelled, but it was too late. He was hit with two spells at once. Sirius’ Expelliarmus ripped his wand out of his hand, while James lifted him upside down using a non-verbal Levicorpus. Severus was glad he’d changed into trousers before he went outside. If he’d been in his school robes…

“You didn’t say ‘please,’ you see,” James informed him solemnly, “So I’m afraid I can’t do as you ask.”

“It’s for your own good,” Sirius explained. “It’ll teach you some manners. That’s a lesson you’re sorely in need of.” He tossed Severus’ wand to Remus Lupin, who was, as always, just watching without comment. “Hang onto to this, would you, Moony?”

Remus seemed vaguely unhappy about the whole situation, but he slipped the wand into his back pocket.

“Now, Snivellus, I believe there’s a spell you’ve been meaning to teach us.”

“I’m not going to teach you anything!” Severus felt the blood rushing to his head, and he wondered if he was going to pass out.

Severus hadn’t noticed Peter Pettigrew lurking behind James, not until the rat-like boy spoke. “I can make him talk, Prongs.” Peter seemed to hold his breath for a moment, until James nodded his approval.

Peter advanced on Severus with his wand out. “Cruc--”

“Stop it, Wormtail!” James bellowed. “Are you mental? You can’t use an Unforgivable on him! We’ve talked about this before. They’d send you to Azkaban! What’s wrong with you?”

“Sorry, Prongs. I just…” Peter looked like he was about to cry, and Severus wondered, a little irrationally, what he had been about to say. He just got carried away? It was almost laughable.

“I think Wormtail’s got the right idea.” Sirius’ eyes were alight with a glee that bordered on the fiendish.

“Not you too!” The frustration was obvious in James’ voice. “Don’t you people have any common sense? We can’t just--”

“Unforgivables aren’t our only option,” Sirius said quietly. “If you want Snivelly to give you that spell…”

“Padfoot, I think you’ve got a point.” James looked Severus in the face. “Incendio,” he said quietly.

Severus could smell the burning wool as his sweater started to catch fire. “Potter, this isn’t funny! Stop it!”

“Sure, OK,” he said, but made no move to do so.

“You aren’t really going to kill me!”

James considered this for a moment. “Kill you? No, you’re right. I’m not going to kill you. I’m just going to make your life exceedingly difficult for the next little while.”

Severus could feel the uncomfortable warmth against his skin. He tried to beat at the tiny flames with his hands, but his range of motion was limited. “Potter… please!”

James didn’t answer, but Sirius prompted Severus, “The spell?”

“Alright, fine. It’s Liberacorpus. It’s non-verbal.”

“That’s very interesting, Snivelly,” James commented conversationally. “Did you come up with that on your own?”


“Oh, right, yes.” He flicked is wand lazily. “Aguamenti!”

The blast of cold water was a shock to Severus. It quenched the flames on his sweater, and then moved to his face and hair, soaking him and making him cough.

Sirius chuckled softly. “Now that’s just the Hogwarts spirit, isn’t it? There’s a stunning example of true intellectual cooperation between Houses!”

Severus felt frozen, paralyzed. He watched as the dogs began to circle, at first moving slowly, then faster and faster as they tightened like a noose around the small black shape that cowered in the middle. He had to do something! He ran down the stairs, barely noticing as he skinned his elbow on the door frame, then out the front door as fast as he could go. He heard the growls, the cat’s soft mews of pain and fear. Why were they doing this? What was the point? The dogs started to bark…

“I think we should try out Snivellus’ new spell,” James suggested.

“Yeah, good idea,” Sirius agreed. “We’ll help him test it. Just to make sure it works.”

“Help him with his research. We’re like his collaborators.” James threw his head back and laughed.

“Yeah! If you ever write a book, Snivelly, you’d better dedicate it to us. After all, it was us who gave you your start! You want to do the honours, Wormtail?”

“I forgot the spell!” Peter squeaked.

“You’re hopeless, you know that? Really hopeless. OK, Prongs, you do it.”

James pointed his want at Severus, and Severus abruptly tumbled to the ground, landing hard. He saw stars…

“Whoa, that was wicked! Neat spell, Snivelly! I want to try!” An instant later Severus was back in the air, this time with Sirius’ wand pointed at him. He hit the ground face-first this time, and blood began to gush from his nose.

Remus looked decidedly uncomfortable. “You guys, I don’t think we should…”

“Oh, don’t be a wet blanket, Remus. We’re helping Snivellus with his new spell!” Severus was jerked from the ground again… and again…

Through the rushing in his ears, he could hear James instructing Peter on the finer points of non-verbal spellwork. “And you have to point your wand directly at him…”

He was too late. The ground… the dogs’ muzzles… stained with red. The small black shape lay unmoving at the centre of their circle. “Go away!” Severus screamed, waving his arms at them, and though they didn’t seem at all frightened by the yelling boy, it appeared they were already bored. One by one they left, not sparing so much as a glance at their bloodied victim.

Severus knelt on the ground, taking his beloved pet in his arms. Her blood soaked through his shirt almost instantly. Why did they do it? Why? They weren’t hungry, and she was no threat to them. They’d done it just because… they could. Because there were four of them and only one of her. Because she couldn’t fight back. Because whatever each individual dog was, together they were a pack, and the pack showed no mercy. Severus pressed the dead cat to his chest. Why did they…? Why?

Severus lay on the ground for a long time, even after they’d lost interest and moved on. He didn’t even look up to watch them leave. His nose was bleeding, his sweater was burned beyond repair, and his whole body ached from his repeated run-ins with the ground.

Why did they do this? What was the point? They did it because they could. Because there were four of them and only one of me. Because I couldn’t fight back. Because whatever each individual boy was, together they were a pack, and the pack showed no mercy.

Slowly, Severus sat up. Next time, it would be different. Next time, he would fight back. He wouldn’t be like the cat. He wouldn’t be their victim anymore. He was tired of being taken by surprise. In the future, he would be ready.

Next time the blood wouldn’t be his…

Last edited by Blakeney Green; September 30th, 2005 at 3:17 am.
Old October 1st, 2005, 3:11 am
DancingMaenid  Undisclosed.gif DancingMaenid is offline
Hogwarts Graduate
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Location: United States
Age: 32
Posts: 2,227
hwyla, Snape could certainly use some Dragonskin robes. Maybe if he survives through the seventh book, he can become a tailor himself. He can design robes for potions masters, and Neville can get his first job helping Snape test their durability.

I currently have three POV ideas, but with the current trend, I'm going with the one that breaks my old decision not to write angsty fanfic/POV stuff (I don't feel I'm very good at it). So, I give you my interpreation of a young Snape, immediately after SWM:

After Snape's Worst Memory

Severus peeked his head carefully into the boy's bathroom to make sure it was empty before he went inside. What he wanted, what he really wanted, was to go down to his dorm. There was something comforting about being down in the dungeons, disconnected, in a way, from the rest of the school. After being on display for as long as he was, that sounded especially appealing. But a lot of the sixth years had a free period, right now, and he really didn't feel like seeing anyone. At least not until he managed to clean himself up.

Looking in the mirror, he saw the damage wasn't too bad. He was sore, but had no visible injuries or bruises. His hair was somewhat messy, but he managed to fix it by running his fingers through it a few times. He straightened his robes, and then turned on the faucet and cupped his hands under it so he could get a drink. He still had soap in his mouth, and his throat was beginning to feel a bit sore.

He looked tantatively towards the door. He wondered how far word of his humiliation had spread. He didn't want to be caught unprepared by more laughter when he walked out into the hall. Everyone would know, eventually, he was sure. He was used to that. What he dreaded was his fellow Slytherins hearing about it. He didn't want to listen to their supposedly good natured teasing.

He felt his eyes start to water, and tightened his jaw and facial muscles until he felt like he had regained control. It never did him any good to let his emotions show. He could still see and hear it as it replayed in his mind, Potter and his friends (or were they his fans? It was difficult to tell, at times) humiliating him and then teasing him for blushing.

I was just angry, he told himself, I'd like to see how they'd react if I took off their pants in front of everyone.

Suddenly, it became much harder to control himself. He wanted to think of other things, but he couldn't think of anything that didn't remind him, in some way, of what he'd just gone through. He had to prepare for OWLs. Oh, yes, he was going to have to face everyone again in a matter of a couple hours, and he would have to perform spells, difficult spells, for the exam. Thinking about the potions OWL scheduled for tomorrow afternoon only reminded him of the time back in October when, after potions class, James had stolen Severus' book (his book, the one James and Sirius had teased him over, the one that had all his work in it) and decided to test out some of the spells he found.

He hated them. He hated that, in ten minutes, they could take what had been a relatively hopeful, decent day and ruin it, that they could destroy his well-being so easily. He almost wished that he had made his Sectumsempra more powerful. Powerful enough to kill? Not necessarily as long as it stopped them. Severus had hoped, somehow, that he'd be able to scare the stupid gits off, scare everyone else into not laughing at him, but it hadn't worked. Of course. It had just made James more agressive towards him, if anything. But he didn't regret doing it. At least he'd done something this time. That wasn't to say he hadn't gotten revenge before--he had. But never at the time, while everyone was watching to see that he was capable of it. He would fight back harder next time, he decided. He wouldn't need anyone to defend him, either.

Mistake. It was a mistake to let himself think of that, since now his vision was blurred from stubborn tears. He hated that she'd gotten angry at him, but he couldn't really blame her. And he couldn't bear what she was doing. Before she'd come forward, he had hoped, desperately, as she was sitting nearby, that she wouldn't notice what was happening. But she had, and he hated her seeing him weak. He hadn't even thought when he called her a mudblood. It was just what popped out of his mouth, the result of one too many evenings of listening to conversations in the Slytherin common room. It was probably for the better, anyway. Her saving him would've been another thing to embarrass him with.

Still, what would she think of him now? She used to talk to him sometimes, on the occasion that they'd both be in the library at the same time. She was nice to him, and it didn't seem like she was faking it, either. Now, he doubted she'd talk to him again. He wanted to blame the Potter for it, but he couldn't; whatever she thought of him, he knew it was his own fault.

The only good thought he could find was that, thankfully, the year was almost over. If he could get through OWLs, he could go home and be free from all this for a couple months. Maybe he'd visit his muggle grandmother, like he had last year. That had been bearable. Even home would be oddly inviting compared to Hogwarts right now. His parents, for all their faults, at least did not take to hexing him in front of a crowd.

After patting his eyes dry with his sleeve, Severus went out into the hall. It was mercifully empty, with the exception of two girls who averted their eyes and giggled when the saw him. Deciding to ignore it, Severus let his hair drop over his face, and focused on escaping to the dungeons.

Old October 1st, 2005, 5:58 pm
thestralgrin's Avatar
thestralgrin  Female.gif thestralgrin is offline
Third Year
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Location: The attic, Spinner's End
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Dancingmaenid, very good description of the after-effects of the SWM incident. It would have rattled him pretty badly – and he would have tried his best to hide it from everyone.

One of mine, now … another Major Snape/Lily Ship Warning here (with a corny hair-tucking scene included ), I’m also going on the idea that it was probably Snape, not James Potter, who was the “awful boy” that Petunia spoke of in OoP.

Scattered Feathers

Severus noticed there had been a change in the way things were between them lately, and it bothered him. For one thing, she had only invited him around to her place once during this year’s holidays - and when he was there, he noticed she seemed more preoccupied, detached than she was last year. He had also found himself feeling more awkward than usual. The visit had still been a friendly one, as they generally were – but the bond of childhood camaraderie that had existed before between him and Lily, was, for some reason, simply was not so strongly present this year.

He could see that she had still been genuinely unhappy to see him have go back to his parents when his stay ended, but when he was there, it was if the two of them found the old tricks they’d played together had suddenly become boring – and they couldn’t yet bring themselves to think about what to do next. Well, maybe that was just him.

Sometimes, while he was with her back at the Evans’s, he had a feeling that she was waiting for him to do ... something. Something that, whatever it was, he felt profoundly unready for. He hoped that the friendship they had would not suffer from this … change in the mood between them, whatever it was. But while it was clear she was acting differently around him – to be honest, he too was feeling differently about her. That was another thing that worried him. He didn’t want to lose his closest friend, even if she was a girl. He needed to think about it, to work out what to do.

Predictably, the situation at home didn’t give him enough peace to do that. If anything, the fighting between his parents had become worse. He spent the rest of that summer shut away in his bedroom, shooting down flies with his wand. It was the best way that he could keep calm, when things started getting too bad downstairs.

He was looking forward to going back to school this year even more than before, and he couldn’t kid himself that it was merely for the chance to do well in his OWLS - and kick-start his hoped-for career as an auror, or to catch up with Mr. Filch again - and maybe dob in a marauder or two for him … Severus was eager to return to school, because it also meant being able to see Lily on a regular basis again.

Yeah, she’s my friend, he told himself, but she hadn’t invited me over to her place as much in the holidays, and it’d just be nice to see her again, that’s all. He expected the explanation to satisfy him. It did – a little. He also thought a little about Malfoy and his friends – they were still stimulating company, even though some found them more than a little frightening. But Severus appreciated that edginess about them, and took pride in his ability to handle it. Not every fifth year had the guts to run with the big boys, and he knew for sure that he did.

There were some things, though, he could share with Lily that Malfoy would not understand – and that was part of the reason why he hoped that small rift between them (if there was one) would fix itself soon. Malfoy understood power – and so did he – but Severus could not see himself being satisfied with just that. There were too many things to learn and master, than to waste his time with mere social climbing. Lily in the past had understood that, as well as shared his thirst for knowledge. He and she could talk about things like counter-hexes, potions, and theories behind obscure jinxes. It had made him feel less isolated, and he hoped, again, that he would not lose that.
* * *

When he was finally able to catch her alone – and not in a gaggle of girls - it was in the library. He had been looking for a book on the principal theories of counter-hexes – not that it was required for his homework, but for his own personal reasons. Spotting a familiar flash of dark red hair, he worked his way through the maze of shelves and books until he finally caught up with her. He smiled when they met, and hoped he did not make himself look stupid by doing that. Somehow, it had suddenly felt important to make a good impression on her.

“Oh, hi Severus” she said, when she saw him. Not as wildly enthusiastic a greeting as she'd normally have given him, but still warm, and welcoming. She definitely had changed, grown more detached, more airy ... Or maybe more sophisticated was a better word for it, he thought, and realised his face was growing warmer as he awkwardly said “Hi” back to her. Oh no … don’t tell me that I’m becoming embarrassed around her! He thought in panic, as Lily fixed him with one of her knowing looks … with those intense green eyes. “Sev, you’re blushing,” she said, in that teasing voice of hers that he knew so well. “No I’m not!” he replied haughtily, pulling a mock-grin which showed the teeth on one side of his mouth.

“You are!” Lily answered back, and Severus, glad to be finally back on familiar conversational ground, replied by saying “You must have been watching me pretty closely then, to catch me out at that!” - which was a lie, since half a minute ago his face was burning – “Blush-Boy!” Lily taunted back, to which Severus replied “Yes, well …” whilst ducking his head, so that his hair hid most of his face. “Your making yourself look cute when you do that” Lily said, while pushing her own hair back over her shoulder with her hand. Both of which caused the skin on Severus’s face to reach burning point. He found himself lost for words.

“Um … well, yeah” he mumbled, through an inane grin he was glad that his hair (he hoped) had hidden. “I wouldn’t call myself cute, though”, he finally said – getting back his composure. “Smart, tough, going places maybe … much better kinds of things than cute” he said, with a smile he hoped would look cool to her. Lily didn’t change her expression, instead she reached forward, and in a move that startled him slightly, tucked one side of Severus’s twin curtains of hair behind his ear. “Sev, don’t panic if a girl ever calls you something like that”, she said, “I’ve got to go now, I have a divination class in a few minutes. Bye”. And then she left.

Severus did not move from the spot for what seemed like a long time. All he could do was lean against the bookshelf, clutching the books he had been carrying, trying to make sense of the last conversation. Only when he recognised the sound of Filch’s footsteps approaching, could he snap out of it and act in a somewhat more normal way. “Hi, sir” he said. “Been keeping yourself out of trouble, lad?” replied Filch, and Severus nodded. “Wish more of the other students would make an effort to be a bit more like you” Filch replied, “They don’t care about the rules here as much as they should”.

“No, sir, they don’t” agreed Severus. “Well, you just keep on setting an example and doin’ the right thing, Master Snape” continued Filch, “and if you ever see any of that marauder gang getting up to any serious mischief …” “I’ll let you know” grinned Severus, and the two of them exchanged a knowing look, before Filch continued on with his patrol. After he had left, though, Severus allowed himself to sink to the floor by the foot of the bookshelf, leaning his back against a row of tomes on magical wildlife control. He had a lot to think about.

He wondered why he felt so uncomfortable when Lily told him not to panic if 'a girl ever calls you something like that'. Severus did not want any girl to ‘call him that’, just the thought of it was unbearably embarrassing – unless it was Lily, he realised. It began to dawn on him that she had become important to him in more ways, than the one which he had been used to. Suddenly, with that understanding, came again the fear of losing her. In his mind’s eye, he imagined her transfigured to a beautiful chestnut coloured bird, who’d fly freely from one place to another.

He winced at the thought of her flying away from him, and into the hands of other boys … especially if it was one of the marauders, the notorious bully gang that been harassing him since they had first met. Even worse ... if it was Potter … though Black was almost as bad … a disturbing vision came to him, of Potter’s hands closing around her wings, followed by a smouldering nest littered with chestnut feathers, holding a single egg that had a lightning-shaped crack in its shell … Severus closed his eyes, and tried to turn his mind onto something else. He did not like that thought. He tried instead to see himself holding out his hand, and Lily flying over to rest on it - but it was difficult. Something kept getting in the way …

He heard the noise of footsteps around him, and looked up in time to see a forest of legs surrounding him. Looking further upwards, he saw four faces that were familiar to him for all the worst reasons. “Go away”, he simply said, “Not that you’ll be able to jinx me in the library and get very far”, he added with his best sneer. “Oh, we can wait for that, Snivellus” said Black. “You wont be able to hide from us in here forever” Pettigrew was smirking in the background, Lupin pretending that none of this was actually happening.

“What is it this time?” Severus hissed, though he was beginning to guess … “We shouldn’t have to find a reason to eliminate ugly scum like …” Black started, but Potter cut in on him “Shut up, Black!” he said, and then continued (while Black sulked) “I saw you with Evans, Snivellus” he snarled, and Severus noticed that Potter had his wand out, pointed at him. In the library. (he reminded himself to report that to Filch later on …) “Put that thing away, Potter, before Filch catches you” he said.

“Not until I give you a little caveat which will be useful to remember, if you value your health”. Potter said, and his wand didn’t move, “And I’m only going to warn you once. You keep away from Evans, you hear? If I ever see – or hear – of you even touching her with your greasy little hands, Snivelly, I’ll …” “Filch is coming!” Pettigrew hissed – and heads turned to the end of the row, where Mrs. Norris stalked towards them, as though she owned every inch of the place. The marauders panicked and fled after Pettigrew out the other end of the row … except for Potter, who paused for a moment. “I mean it, Snivellus!” he hissed, jerking his head to see if Filch had arrived yet, “Don’t you go near her – you hear!?”

Severus said nothing, simply raising an eyebrow. For a moment, Potter looked as though he might put his wand to a use on Severus that was not so much magical as violent – before he too ran when hearing Filch’s voice.

When the squib came back to double-check on the row, he saw Severus sitting on the floor against a bookshelf, reading. “Nothing been bothering you?” Filch asked. “No sir” Severus replied. “That’s good, lad, that’s good” Filch replied, and continued on his way. It was then that Severus realised that he had been pretending to read with his left hand. His other, hidden under the books on his lap, was still wrapped tightly around the handle of his wand. He must have reached for it unconsciously when the gang had turned up.

Rubbing his fingers (he had gripped the wand so tightly that he’d marked his skin), he thought about the disturbing new development between the marauders and himself. Lily had become involved – Potter had decided that he wanted her. Not that this in itself would worry him much – he knew her well enough, having practically grown up alongside her, to know that she was not the type to fall for a thug like him. She is too clever, he thought, and had never shown any sign of being attracted to the dunderhead.

And anyway, Severus continued to reassure himself, Lily and I are both above those idiots. She’s too smart to go to a fool like him. He remembered the daydream vision of the chestnut coloured bird. Surely she, of all people, would think it wiser to go to one who'd politely held out his hand, than to the other whose style was to grab. A new vision came to his mind – he and Lily, after school was finished, doing great things together, while the marauders fumbled and fell by the wayside. He liked that thought … but when he tried to imagine again the chestnut bird flying onto his hand, he couldn’t. Something, for some reason, kept getting in his way.


Last edited by thestralgrin; October 2nd, 2005 at 4:05 am.
Old October 3rd, 2005, 9:25 pm
PotionStudent  Female.gif PotionStudent is offline
Second Year
Joined: 5744 days
Location: Upstate NY
Age: 46
Posts: 192
OK, my try on the ... final confrontation. Bear in mind, English isn't my first language! And I hope you'll enjoy!
I love to keep some things unsaid

Harry took a long, deep breath, and continued his way, the invisibility cloak concealing him. Concentrate, he chided himself; but that was hard, not knowing how Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Luna and Neville were faring, trying on their side to distract as many death-eaters as they could, hopefully leaving the path to Voldemort clear for Harry.

But Harry’s progression was suddenly stopped – no sound warning him, nothing. That could only be a non-verbal full-body bind. He was quickly relieved of the invisibility cloak and his wand. A cold, pincer-like gripe turned him – and a sneering voice…. “So, that is how you prowled the corridors at night, Potter. That is how you escaped me, that night where Mad-Eye Moody…” The Potion Master pocketed the wand and watched his former student closely. Having Snape so near, but being unable to exact revenge…

Snape dragged Harry mercilessly down the corridors, sure of his way. “You always relied on stupid artifacts, and friends, like your father, Potter. Now is the time you understand true power.”
Harry’s blood was beyond boiling point. But in his head… “Close your mouth, and shut up you mind, Potter.”

“Master, he is here.” Snape pushed Harry forward, against a pole in the center of the room. The pole spung out arms – ropes, immobilizing Harry.
“I see, Snape… Well done. I think we can bring an end here and now to the prophecy.” Stated Voldemort, rising up slowly. “Except…
Harry screamed, having again control of his body – but the Crucio was directed at the Potion Master. Snape was trying to stand back up, but the ropes of pain kept lashing
“Do you think you could fool the Dark Lord, Snape? Fool the best legilimens ever?”
“Dumbledore” Snape breathed. “Better legilimens than you.” Another round of Crucio sent him back writhing on the floor, panting. In one last effort, the Potion Master looked toward Harry.
“His friends are all being slaughtered by my faithful servants, here is is, and for you… Adava…”
“Close your mouth and shut up your mind, Potter!” resonated once more in Harry’s mind. The pole’s ropes were loosened, and the wand… the wand was back in his pocket.

In mourning...
All houses, Unite against Voldemort!

Last edited by PotionStudent; October 4th, 2005 at 4:27 pm.
Old October 7th, 2005, 1:05 am
Lady_Rebel  Female.gif Lady_Rebel is offline
First Year
Joined: 5561 days
Location: My imagination. Scary place...
Posts: 11
Wow! So many great posts. I loved the poker one especially--the end's twist was nicely done.

Well, I know with my last post I mentioned some form of story called "Voldemort's orange", but as amusing as the name sounds to me, that just didn't work out. This is what happened instead--a little odd, but here it is.


The Old Man and the Spy

Author’s Note: This scene takes place before Harry is collected from the Dursley’s, before Dumbledore’s accident with the horcrux-ring’s curse, before Snape was recruited for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, and before Snape’s Spinner’s End encounter with Narcissa and Bellatrix. In other words, just after the ending of the Order of the Phoenix. It is an attempt to illustrate the idea that before Spinner’s End, Severus Snape had no idea what Draco’s task was—or even to whom the task belonged—and also to explain his “I believe he means for me to do it, in the end,” comment and his odd actions surrounding that line.


He burst into the office in a swirl of robes, cold fury etched into his face, sallow skin taut with anxiety. A muscle twitched compulsively in his jaw.

“Headmaster,” the man said in a low voice, the formality a small nod of apology for the brusqueness of his entry, “we have a problem.”

“Severus, welcome.” Albus Dumbledore greeted his potions master calmly, but sounding slightly distracted, not looking up from the pile of papers on his desk. While the professor waited disapprovingly off to the side, Dumbledore finished rolling up the letter he had been writing, tied it securely to the outstretched leg of the waiting horned owl, and watched the bird soar out the window with the shadow of a frown on his face.

“Headmaster.” Snape’s voice was tinged with just the smallest trace of impatience. “This is important.”

He watched as the worried expression cleared from the silver-bearded man’s face, as he looked up over the top of his half-moon glasses. “Of course, Severus—forgive me. But seems certain matters have been weighing most heavily on my mind lately.”

Snape gave no response, fighting to master himself. It was difficult to keep from releasing his anger in a wave of obliterating rage—but he must remain in control…

“Severus…” That frown was back, and there was a dark question in the innocent words. “Is there any news?

Snape gave a small, inaudible sigh, those simple words suddenly bringing the unreality of the situation into sharp focus, abruptly, albeit temporarily, smothering his anger with the full realization of what he had come here to say. He had stormed away from his audience with the Dark Lord seething at himself and his double agent role and both his masters, but now—now, when he actually had to say the words…

But Dumbledore, being Dumbledore, already suspected. His voice was gentle as he asked, “Has he given the order?”

Severus locked eyes with Dumbledore, refusing to allow himself the weakness—the decency—of looking away. He nearly spat the answer. “Yes.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and finally it was the old blue eyes which looked away.

“I see,” he said softly, but there was no hint of bitterness in his voice. Snape’s eyes narrowed. Was the man actually... relieved? No more waiting, no more wondering—but—Snape’s anger flared, and more of his message spilled out in a rush of contempt.

“There is a measure of uncertainty. The Dark Lord has contemplated this for longer than even I suspected. There is some other scheme that must come first—so it will not be quite so soon. I will, of course, attempt to discover specifics—”

How can he take this so calmly? Snape wondered, his mouth suddenly dry so that he cut off in mid-sentence, unable to relay his last, most troubling, but vital piece of information. What does this man know that he can stare death in the face and give it that superior smile, conquering even in surrender?

“Oh, I’m sure you will investigate, Severus,” Dumbledore said calmly, and those blue eyes suddenly regained their customary twinkle, and Snape felt his anger drop away and a rush of sick-feeling pity and revulsion take its place. Something must have shown on his face, for Dumbledore suddenly leaned forward, serious again—worried, even—searching Snape’s dark eyes as he asked, as he guessed the last part of his spy’s message:

“Are you to execute this deed, Severus? Is that Lord Voldemort’s plan?”

This time, dark eyes looked away first, filled with shame and with dread.

Dumbledore said nothing.

“There is still a chance, Headmaster,” Snape said with difficulty, afraid to look up, coldness curling about his insides, dreading what that silence meant. He stumbled over his words as the idea rapidly took shape, “There is a chance that this first scheme of the Dark Lord’s will change his mind—this success might cause him to move on and ignore the issue for a little while longer, so I might have time to—”

“Severus.” Dumbledore held up a hand, and Snape cut off, realizing he was babbling, hating himself for showing weakness, despising himself more because he did not have the control to give in to his pain and emerge the stronger.

There was a pause, then Dumbledore added softly, “I am sorry, Severus.”

Snape drew in a sharp breath, and the coldness receded, leaving him shaky but relieved. The muscle in his jaw twitched again as conflicting voices in his mind cried that he should be telling Dumbledore that, denial that this could be happening, that it had finally come to this, that this old man had no right to be so strong when he himself was failing so miserably…

Snape willed the lump that suddenly formed in his throat away as Dumbledore continued, “Lord Voldemort means for you to do it in the end, I think, but I know that if we can only discover what he feels must come first, we stand a chance of fighting back, rather than simply waiting to discover when the stroke of doom will fall.”

Severus looked up again, suddenly unspeakably grateful for that “we,” for the light of determination in his friend’s eyes, for the treatment of this impossible situation as though he were not to blame. Yet rallying his control, he said only, “Of course, Headmaster. I will look into it as soon as possible.”

Still neither of them made a move to leave, and so for a long time the old man and the spy sat together, contemplating their separate fates and their united destinies, the consequences of mistakes long past and the trials they would face ahead…


<<A single raindrop never blames itself for the flood>>

<<Always remember, you are unique. Just like everybody else>>

<< Ma gavte la nata. >>

I Trust Severus Snape
I Trust Albus Dumbledore

I write fan fiction - check me out at http://www.fanfiction.mugglenet.com; as Spaced Out.
Old October 7th, 2005, 8:29 am
eVaNeScEnCe's Avatar
eVaNeScEnCe  Female.gif eVaNeScEnCe is offline
Sixth Year
Joined: 6363 days
Location: In Snape's Pensieve
Age: 35
Posts: 1,167
Ok, guys, this is my first attempt at a comedic piece. Compared to the other funny stuff I've read here, it's really nothing to boast about, but I felt it was time to take a break from all my angsty stuff. This is an idea I've been brewing inside my head for quite some time. Sorry for the fanfiction length. I tend to get a bit carried away with my works.
Anyway, so basically, in a nutshell: Snape has a crush on a fellow Hogwarts professor, pre-Harry years and he decides to send her a Valentine and ask her out to a make-believe ball. Let's just say things don't exactly go as planned.

*note: The Valentine I made up is completely different from the singing one in CoS, so sorry if I strayed too far from canon.

Severus Snape sat on his chair, tapping his fingers impatiently as he waited for the last first year student to exit his classroom. At last, his patience ran out:
“Hurry up, Underwood!” he snapped. “I dismissed the class two minutes ago and you’re still here, fiddling with your school bag. Leave or I will consider docking points off Ravenclaw for your insufferable idleness!”

At these words, the first year gave a loud squeak of alarm, picked up his books as fast as he could, and skittered hurriedly out of the classroom.

The door shut with a loud clang.

Severus sighed. Normally, he wouldn’t have cared how long the first year took picking up his books, or how long he lingered behind in the class. But it mattered today. Today was a different day. A very important day.

Several more minutes passed. Come on, where is he? I told him to come right after my last class of the day. If he keeps me waiting any longer, I swear I’ll strangle that stupid cat of his. He tapped his fingers harder on the wooden desk.
Severus had spent the better part of the afternoon frantically going over his plan, trying to keep a cool and collected front before his classes. The plan, the plan…

It was something he’d made his mind up about days ago, and despite his inner resolve, he couldn’t help feeling slightly nauseated every time he went over the details in his mind.
What if it doesn’t work? He kept asking himself. And despite the many times he scolded himself for entertaining such foolishly apprehensive thoughts, his mind always seemed to go back to them.
What's more, if he didn't find himself anxiously going over the details of his plan, he was incessantly berating himself for that incredibly ridiculous, audacious, and completely out of character thing he had thought up of in the first place.
In truth, the past few days had found him torn between these two extremes.

But I had to, he reasoned. I’ve tried to go up to her many times before and failed. This is my last resort. And it’s not like it’s an extreme option. Many people do it this time of year…well, this day, anyway. And tonight is the ball…and I know nobody has invited her yet…well, it’s not like she has a wide range of choices— sudden images of Flitwick and Dumbledore interrupted this train of thoughts. At this, he snorted. No, this is my last chance. If I ever want her to know how I feel... by this point, he was gripping the armrests of his chair so hard his knuckles were beginning to get white.

He was so immersed in his own thoughts didn’t realize the soft tap against the dungeon door. Severus jumped. Oh right, he’s here. Finally. He cleared his throat: “Come in” he announced in what he hoped was a calm and stern voice.
A tall, skinny, frail man walked into the room, with a dust-colored, yellow-eyed cat trailing behind him. Argus Filch sauntered hesitantly over to the desk, holding a small, red, heart shaped box between his hands. He stood staring at Severus for what seemed like an eternity.

“Well!” Severus said in an exasperated tone. “Is that the object I asked you to retrieve for me?”

“Y-yes sir. I confiscated it from DuMont this morning. He was on his way to give it his girlfriend, McPherson-“

“Spare me the details of how you acquired it, just hand it to me.”

“Yes, sir.” Filch reached over the desk to hand Severus the object.
He held it in his hands for a minute and studied it.

”Now, are you quite sure it isn’t a singing one? It only recites words?”

“Yes, Professor, sir. This year, they’ve included verbal Valentines along with singing ones, at the request of the Headmaster. It’s made to recite poems, declarations of love, and the sort. Different method, same blatant excuse to get the kids misbehaving in the halls.” If it were up to me, I’d ban all these silly Valentines.”

Severus didn’t respond. He kept eyeing the heart shaped box as he turned it over and over again in his hands. At last, he straightened his head and gave Filch a sober look. “Yes, well, I just need this one to make some investigations in my house. Thank you for retrieving the object Argus. You may depart.” Please leave and don’t ask questions.
Filch stood there for a moment longer, shifting his gaze from the box to Snape’s face. “To make investigations sir? I had no idea-“
“Yes, well, I didn’t ask you this favor for you to question my actions and motives. I have what I wanted and I’ve thanked you for it. Now I would appreciate it if you departed at once, Argus.” Severus’s voice had, without meaning to, gone up an octave.
Filch made a half bow and quickly turned around, doubt and skepticism etched across his face as he exited the room.

After locking the door with a flick of his wand, Severus let out a sigh of relief and turned his attention once more to the little red heart, hoping Filch hadn’t suspected his true motive for wanting to obtain the box. Oh well, and if he does, who’s he going to tell? That stupid cat of his? Don’t doubt it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s his special Valentine. Severus smirked.

Several minutes elapsed before Severus worked up the nerve to lift the lid off the box. He remembered the conversation he’d overheard between one of his Slytherin students. Ok, now, if that stupid Lawrence kid is right, all I have to do is tell the thing what I want it to say, instruct it on who to say it to, and stick it in an envelope. Simple as that. Nothing can go wrong. Well, here goes nothing…

Severus opened the lid and instantly, a red, billowy smoke shot out of the box, circling around Severus’s head until finally floating over to the other side of the desk. The smoke seemed to hover over the desk for a few seconds. Finally, it narrowed, parted, and whizzed around very fast until it started forming into an indefinite shape. The shape became more corporeal, until at last, it materialized into a small, chubby, cherub-looking man. It wore what looked like a white toga draped around its small body, golden sandals, and a ringlet of flowers around his head. A white set of feathery wings were what kept him hovering feet above the ground. He would have looked more human if his skin wasn’t tinged in pink from head to toe.
The little cherub man hovered above Severus’s desk with a bored expression on his face. He announced with an indifferent air: “Greetings, enamored human, my name is Calypso the III, great-great-great grandson of the famous Cup-“
“Yes, yes, I don’t care who you are,” Snape said impatiently. Time was running short. He only had a few more hours before the ball.

The cherub man huffed his chest out indignantly, obviously stung by Severus’ blatant disinterest.

“I’ve heard what sort of…Valentines you do and I need you to do one for me.”

“Yes, well,” The cherub man interrupted, “just to clear some stuff up, I don’t do singing. That’s for other…less dignified family members. My sort believe in a more verbal and poetic method.” A mixture of disdain and haughtiness filled the cherub man’s face.

“Yes, yes, I know. That’s why I sent for you. Now listen, I haven’t got much time left. Pay close attention...”

Severus spent the next three minutes vocalizing his speech and repeating it to make sure the cherub man grasped every syllable of it. The speech consisted of only three sentences and Merlin only knows how many hours Severus had spent coming up with just the first four words.

“Alright now, you got down everything I said? Word for word?”

The cherub man had gone back to his bored expression. “Yes, yes, I am the expert aren’t I? This is what I do for a living, isn’t it? Incidentally, it doesn’t pay me enough-“

“Right, well, that’s enough. Let’s put you in the envelope.”

“Awww, come on, I hate envelopes. Can’t I just stay in the box?”

“No,” Severus said softly, “because the box will not slip in properly under the door. Now shut up and do as I say.” Severus stood up opened the drawer of his desk, took out a long, parched envelope and walked over to where the cherub man was hovering. “Now, remember to tell her you were sent on behalf of Severus Snape. Get in.”
The cherub rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. He dematerialized once more into the red smoke and seeped into the opened envelope Severus held in his hands.
Severus sealed the envelope tightly, tucked it under his left arm, and with a resolute air, walked out of the room.

Severus’s journey from the dungeons all the way up to the Astronomy wing was smooth and uninterrupted by any flow of students. He figured most had returned to their common rooms and dormitories early to prepare for the Valentine's ball that evening, a rare occasion that was hosted only once every few years. Severus supposed this year the Headmaster had lucked out and obtained enough funds from the ministry to host it. He didn’t mind. It had been the perfect excuse to finally express his feelings to-

“Oh come on, Margaret, you can’t really believe Trelawny’s babble? Danger will befall you if you attend Sinistra’s class on Friday? Please! That’s ridiculous. She’s probably just jealous ‘cause most people take Sinistra’s class more seriously than hers. I heard she’s been sending out random warnings to other students of Sinistra’s. Don’t fall for it.”

“But Anne, so far, all of Trelawny’s predictions about me have come true. Like that thing about my cat last month? Or about my Auntie Helen? They all came true. Trelawney is a gifted seer and she wouldn’t make up things out of jealousy. And it’s not just Sinistra she’s warned me about, but the tower as well. She keeps saying that bad things will happen on top of that Astronomy tower and that it’s bad luck for anybody who spends too much time-“

Severus didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. The girls had walked further down the hall, out of ear shot. They had passed right next to him without acknowledging him, obviously too wrapped up in their conversation. Severus hadn’t really paid much attention to their babble anyway, but at the sound of Sinistra’s name, Severus’s heart skipped a beat and he pressed his arm harder against the envelope. I hope this works, was all he kept repeating until at last he reached Sinistra’s office right below the Astronomy tower.

The door was closed. Good, she must be in. Normally, she always spends time in her office after her last class, which coincides with mine. I wonder how much longer she’ll be in there before she changes wardrobe to go to the ball…

Severus walked over to the door, took a deep breathe, and without hesitating, without giving his plan a second thought, bent down and quickly slipped the envelope underneath the door. Now, just leave before she opens the door. And with that, he turned abruptly, quickly walked down the hall again and made a turn on the first corner he found. Just as he was turning, however, he bumped into a familiar female body.

“ooff, sorry, I was—Sinistra! Err—I mean, Professor! Wha-what are you doing here? I mean, errr, I-I thought you’d be in your office?” Severus had not expected this encounter. Under any other circumstance, he would have loved it, but not now. She was supposed to have been in her office.

Sinistra heaved a big, tired sigh. She pushed up the small, square-shaped glasses that had been slipping down her nose, and stared up at Snape with those big, beautiful diamond-shaped eyes he had grown to admire.

“Hello, Severus. Yes, I am supposed to be in my office. I was just there, actually, having a rather interesting conversation with our dear fellow professor, Sybil. Apparently, she’s gotten carried away again making rather unpleasant predictions about my class and scaring some of my students. I decided to conduct a personal meeting with her this afternoon about it. I stepped out briefly to attend an incident up in the tower where some students decided to get up there and cause some havoc with the telescopes. Incidentally, I believe they’re in your house Severus, so I would appreciate it if you’d have a serious talk with them to-“

Severus had stopped listening. His insides had frozen and his mouth had gone suddenly dry. “Err...umm…you were having a conversation with Trewlawney in your office?”

“Yes, I was, and incidentally, I left her in the middle of a very heated argument, so I best get back there now before she decides I’ve been keeping her Inner Eye waiting for too long.” Sinistra snorted and rolled her eyes.

Severus felt his heart plunk all the way down to his stomach. “She-she’s in there NOW??!! Right NOWW??!!” Severus had forgotten about the self-controlled poise he tried his hardest to maintain when addressing one of his fellow colleagues. His voice was full of panic and his face had gone all white.

“Yes, she is. Umm…Professor, are you alright? You seem rather agitated and your face has gone unusually pale? Would you like some water?”

“N-no, it’s alright. I-I just remembered something I, umm…I forgot in the classroom. I-I-I- I’ll see you in the ball later tonight. Good-good bye.”

Severus didn’t wait for a response. He brushed past her and practically ran back to his office. He shut the door and leaned against it for support.

Noooo! This can’t be! Ok, no, relax, relax. Maybe it didn’t recite anything to Trelawney! After all, I told him to recite it to the woman sitting in front of the desk. With any luck, it realized Trelawney wasn’t the intended recipient
. He wondered furiously why the thought of giving the Valentine a direct name to go by hadn’t occurred to him. He had been so nervous and paid so much detail to the speech that he’d forgotten to specify the identity of the recipient.

And as he thought about this, a cold, clammy ice cube seemed to lodge inside his chest. All the meticulous planning he had undergone the past few weeks, all the fears, and hopes, and anxieties…No, no, this can’t have gone wrong. Not after I’ve waited for so long. The thought of the Valentine reciting his speech to Sybil Trelawney produced the effect synonymous to swallowing a giant quaffle. Why, why did the stupid woman have to be in her office? And of all the women…

Severus soon realized that wallowing in this nerve-wracking state wasn’t going to help. There was nothing he could do about it now, and in any case, he would find out soon enough if the Valentine had gone to the right woman.

But there was no time to even anticipate. A soft tapping interrupted his state of panic a few minutes later. Without wondering who it could be, Severus walked over and opened the door. There, inches from him, with huge glasses magnifying her eyes and a wide smile adorning her face stood Sybil Trelawney. She looked overly ecstatic about something and before Severus could revel in his shock, she piped up:

“Oh Severus! I knew it! I always knew there was something between us! My Inner Eye didn’t fool me! It always sensed strong feelings emanating from you whenever we were around each other! Oh, you’ve made me the happiest woman on earth. And yes, yes, yes! Of course I accept your invitation to the ball. Oh, that speech was absolutely poetic. I didn’t know you had such a romantic side to your personality. It’s such a becoming trait in a man! Well, I might as well get ready for the ball. I’ll wait for you in front of my office so you can escort me properly. I’ll put on something extra special, if you know what I mean.” And with a small wink, she gave one last squeal of ecstasy, turned around and walked merrily down the dungeon halls.

Severus stood frozen, not knowing what to do, say, or think. He didn’t even want to think. It was much too painful. This day couldn’t get any worse.
Severus made to close the door, but realized with surprised horror, that there, standing a few feet on the other side of his office, were two 5th year Slytherin students huddled together, snickering at the potions master. They had obviously witnessed the whole fiasco.


The end. Hope you enjoyed. And again, double, triple, and quadruple sorry for the length.

Proud of Member of SIGS-- The Snape Is Good Society

"The truth is that I am forever living in my childhood... Actually I am living permanently in my dream, from which I make brief forays into reality." - Ingmar Bergman
Old October 8th, 2005, 6:50 pm
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Serpentine  Undisclosed.gif Serpentine is offline
Fifth Year
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Location: Posing as Jo's shoe
Posts: 945
Ever since I've seen a repetition of PS/SS on TV last week, the untroubled reactions of the teachers to the Trio, right before they go to the infamous third floor, have been bugging me: the only thing they seemed worried about was for the kids to keep out, not the Stone. So I've been thinking... and writing an overlarge POV, which I've split up in three parts. Thanks to subtle science for bouncing a few ideas around with me on the Dev of Sev through HBP v.3 thread!

Okay, so here's my humble offering, part one. Any remaining mistakes in grammar or orthography are my own fault.

Snape's Point of View: PS/SS, ch.16/17, "Through the Trapdoor" / "The Man with Two Faces" (p.296-318)

The Trapdoor Trials - Part One

Tonight's the night. That's the consensus among the staff. The Headmaster is in London, the trap is set - if "someone" really wants to steal the Stone, tonight's the time to strike. My own bets have always been on Quirrell, I've been on his trail ever since Halloween. But I'm really not fussy; if we can catch the miscreant red-handed, we'll have proof enough for Dumbledore, if not the Wizengamot. Minerva suggests to bring ginger biscuits along, Pomona volunteers a crate of Gillywater Special Blend, Filius will bring the popcorn, and I have a bottle of Ogden's best to liven things up a bit. Oh, sometimes I do love to be a House Head... this should be a night worth staying up for.

If only the students keep clear. I've had an uneasy feeling about the Potter brat and his gang ever since I met them today in the Entrance Hall, clearly up to something (for some reason he seems to be suspicious of me in turn), and I don't trust them to heed my warning. Minerva, who met them shortly before me and has warned them off our business as well, even mentioned them asking for Dumbledore about the Stone. Looks like they're eager to try out the test track Dumbledore has prepared for Potter... but please, not tonight!

As I leave the staffroom I almost run into the Granger girl, who seems anxious to go over her exam questions with Filius. I step back in to get my colleague, who is a bit worried to miss the fun but happy to help his best student - as if she needed it, being the walking textbook she is. Pushing my uneasiness back down, I make my way towards the control room for our track.

I'm just finished preparing the room and getting our party stuff up, as Minerva and Pomona arrive and the show begins. Through an enchanted window we see a certain door in the third floor open, and a harp being pushed in by a figure with a turban. Brilliant, I think smirking, twenty-four galleons won in one go... almost as good as Quidditch.

The instrument is playing soft, quavering notes; if the air of the room itself had song, it'd be this one. "Ingenious!" Pomona exclaims, "an Exmelodicus Charm!" Fluffy, who has at once raised its three heads at Quirrell's entrance, slowly lowers them again and soon begins to snore. "Oh, what a pity that Filius hasn't seen this..." Minerva says wistfully. "He would have been so thrilled about the perfection of this charm."

I raise an eyebrow at her as Quirrell scrambles through the trapdoor; proof, if we ever needed one, that he really does have it in for the Stone. "Well, Filius's own riddle hasn't come up yet," I remind her as I collect my winnings. "There's still ample time for him to watch that one." My own experience with the dog was less than thrilling, the scar still hurts when the weather changes.

We watch Quirrell struggle in the Devil's Snare ("He'll have to stop wriggling in order to keep his wand, he's always been such a jittery boy... pass the biscuits, please") and finally free himself with a jet of fire, before Filius arrives with a giant box of popcorn. Just in time for the real fun, his flying keys are next.

The "jittery boy" peers at the little things, innocently floating around in the upper half of the room, then at the brooms and back at the keys. At last he spots the right one, but it's not until he straddles a broom that Filius releases the keys on him, pelting down on him like arrows. I take a vicious pleasure in splitting off part of the flock to attack his rotten-smelling turban. Unfortunately Quirrell is nimbler than expected, outflies them in narrow curves - "That was excellent! Hmm, I really should have accepted young Quirinius as Seeker back then..." -, finally manages to lunge at the big rusty one - "Oh, that was nasty! The poor little thing!" - and escapes towards the door. One last opportunity to drive a couple of keys into his turban - "Now where did that muffled yowl come from?" - and see them shaken off, before he wrenches the door open and slams it shut behind himself.

"Budge along, Filius," Minerva says, her eyes aglow with excitement; now she really looks like a cat about to play with a mouse. Quirrell, of course, chooses the safe position of the white King as he directs his pieces. But though Minerva is obviously a highly proficient chess player, Quirrell proves harder to beat than you'd expect; I have a sneaky suspicion that somehow he's using not just his own intelligence, but also that of someone I know to be the toughest real-life player I've ever met. Well, if he can tap into the double amount of brains, we have the quadruple.

Time seems to fly as we play and heatedly debate the next moves among ourselves. Black and white pieces chase each other across the board, but even though we take out several of his pieces, he beats almost the double quantity of ours. It's only when a white Pawn turned Knight checkmates our black King from behind - rather unorthodox, but effective - that I notice that on the other end the trapdoor is being crossed again. Not once, thrice.

... to be continued ...

We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.
Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

(Dumbledore in 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire')

My Snape fanfics: Reflections (F&B), The Red Light of the Sun (F&B), The Trapdoor Trials 1, 2, 3 (in "Snape's POV 2"),
Greetings from Down Under and An Unusual Patronus ... are hereby shamelessly advertised

Last edited by Serpentine; October 9th, 2005 at 12:30 am.
Old October 12th, 2005, 6:42 pm
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Serpentine  Undisclosed.gif Serpentine is offline
Fifth Year
Joined: 6333 days
Location: Posing as Jo's shoe
Posts: 945
PotionStudent - I was thinking more along the lines of a marmalade jar with a tiny ladder... with the score he sets to prophecies, he might be interested in weather predictions. I hope Ginny would be intelligent enough not to kiss a VoldeFrog with snakey skin and evil red eyes!
Tane - no, the bet was only about who was trying to steal the Stone, not about whether or not they would get past the Mirror (without Harry they wouldn't have had a chance anyway). Snape has already collected his winnings because it was Quirrell indeed.

Now with the advent of the Trio, a little change of mood might be in order... (Hey, you weren't really expecting the teachers to poke fun at three first-years caught along in their trap with Quirrell, were you?)


The Trapdoor Trials - Part Two

With a sinking feeling I realize that yet again a Potter brat and his little gang of Gryffindors have to burst onto the scene in the worst moment. Quirrell has meanwhile proceeded to the troll room, but I have no eyes for him... nor have my colleagues. The popcorn is forgotten, this isn't fun anymore. With gritted teeth I watch the three students maneuver their way out of the embrace of part two of our seven-piece fish-trap. For that's what this series of riddles is, apart from a test track to find out if Potter can fulfil the Headmaster's expectations. As a trap it narrows the loop further and further, until there's only one fish left skilled enough to possibly find himself pocketed in the final room, where Dumbledore has moved the Mirror of Erised. Tonight this fish-trap is meant to capture a shark, not a bunch of sardines.

Sardines that appear to indulge in job-sharing, that's interesting. Pelted by three flocks of flying keys ("My, what a seeker... hold the vicious things back a bit, Filius, they're only students!" - "I can't, Minerva, they're enchanted to attack. All I can do is not egg them on!"), the three kids close in on our key from different sides. Potter violently pins it against a wall, stuffs it into the keyhole ("Just like his father, always the user," I mutter under my breath) and waves the two others into the chess room.

Quirrell has now defeated his own troll - persuaded him to knock himself out, in fact -, and enters the room with my Potions puzzle. I'm torn between willing him to pick a poison bottle (but no, that might leave us with an unwanted new ghost at Hogwarts) and wanting him to succeed, putting him out of reach for Potter. The next few obstacles should demand much more subtlety of the boy than he has shown in my class.

In the meantime the chess room is uplit and a new game started, with the board inverted - and to my horror all three students have chosen the places of fighting pieces. Not Potter but Weasley is directing the game from his position as a Knight, and against my will I have to admire his inspired gameplay and mind for strategy... maybe I'm the only one in this room to see, in both his and Quirrell's way of playing, traces of the two greatest minds I've been acquainted with. However this is Wizarding Chess, and this spells doom for three students playing against animated stone. After a brief exchange with Minerva about the charms on her pieces and the injuries likely to occur, I send Pomona to alert Poppy Pomfrey and keep a bucket of Bone-Healing Paste ready.

Minerva does her best to stall the students, taking out most of the black pieces and getting them into tight spots. But again and again Weasley narrowly manages to avert a checkmate, darting all over the board and beating white pieces in turn. Finally Minerva manages to corner her opponent into either having himself taken out to checkmate us, or admitting defeat. "Be sensible and give up, boy, don't make me do that," she mutters anxiously, but I feel as if my insides were being Vanished. A Slytherin might be that sensible, but they're Gryffindors, and Gryffindors flaunt their bravery... After a brief exchange among the students ending in shouting (what, they want to "stop" me? What are they talking about?), Weasley indeed makes the dreaded move. Minerva is as white as a sheet when her Queen pounces on the boy, and runs out of the room while Potter as black Bishop checkmates her King.

Filius is about to follow her, but I hold him back: there may be worse yet to follow. Quirrell has found the right bottle at last, and with the resident bookworm at his side Potter just might follow suit. The content of the crucial bottle is enough for one person only, but with Weasley's sacrifice fresh in mind I'm not so sure that his other friend would reap the credits where they're due. I can just see Potter rely on another person's intelligence again to figure things out for him... and if he comes to face the being Quirrell is likely to be, may Merlin and the Founders have mercy on us all.

With a grim determination I haven't known for years, I stride to a normal window and send my trusty Ashwinder Patronus to the Headmaster with an emergency call. Then I rejoin my colleague to watch what the two kids make of the seven items they're presented with, and my coded information about them. Potter can't seem to make heads or tails of it, as expected... but Granger is obviously more skilled in logic than he, and as soon as I see her face light up over my poem, I know that I'm beaten. Darn it, the girl is almost as good as me... "Excellent, exceptional!" I hear Filius exclaim... and Potter is as good as dead.

We see Minerva and Poppy barge into the chess room through a shortcut and take care of Weasley, while Granger decides to rejoin him - only to leave the scene as soon as possible. Meanwhile the two walking corpses meet in the final chamber.

... to be continued ...

We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.
Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

(Dumbledore in 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire')

My Snape fanfics: Reflections (F&B), The Red Light of the Sun (F&B), The Trapdoor Trials 1, 2, 3 (in "Snape's POV 2"),
Greetings from Down Under and An Unusual Patronus ... are hereby shamelessly advertised

Last edited by Serpentine; October 13th, 2005 at 1:15 am.
Old October 16th, 2005, 7:40 pm
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Serpentine  Undisclosed.gif Serpentine is offline
Fifth Year
Joined: 6333 days
Location: Posing as Jo's shoe
Posts: 945
Thanks folks, I'm glad (and relieved) that you like it... in spite of the mood swing.

Tane, a "Little Shop of Horrors" Devil's Snare? Aak, you're one scary plant! (Another one for the list of typos: just misspelled the plant as "Devil's Snape". Go figure. )

Um, I'd better feed you with the third and final part then before I'm eaten... too many scary plants out here...


The Trapdoor Trials - Part Three

It's with utter disbelief that I realize that the little bugger of a Potter has been expecting me, of all people, to betray the Headmaster's trust and steal the Stone instead of Quirrell - after all I've done for him. Blaming Severus for everything seems to run in the family, I wonder what his mother would think of it... he doesn't show much signs of being Lily's son at all.

As they chat on and Quirrell tries in vain to get past Dumbledore's last obstacle, I'm suddenly horrified to hear an all-to-familiar hissing voice, that of my old master the Dark Lord... I knew there was something rotten in that turban!! And he suggests the only solution that would work if the Headmaster is right, namely to use Potter. Foolish foolish boy, presenting him with a way to actually get what he wants, when without him he could have been trapped here for ages! In a sudden fit of rage I find myself rising and pressing my nose flat against the enchanted window, wishing for a hailstorm of flying keys, but they're safely locked away in another room... where the hell is Dumbledore?!

I turn to the door, determined to sprint down and take on the monster myself if needs be, but this time it's Filius who talks me out of it. He's quite right that Dumbledore wouldn't want me to risk my carefully woven cover, the Headmaster has reminded me of that just recently. But sweet Merlin, is he even aware how unbearable it is to feel so powerless, to realize the full danger yet be unable to do anything?

Gripping my chair so hard that it hurts, I'm forced to witness Potter getting past the Mirror to the Stone. (Dumbledore will be glad to hear that he got through, if he ever arrives in time to find the boy alive.) He lies about it as usual, but I can see the faintest reddish gleam coming out of his suddenly bulged pocket. Of course I'm not the only one to notice, I hear the Dark Lord's voice expose the lie... and demand to speak to him, face to face. What is that supposed to mean?

By way of answer, Quirrell unwraps his weird turban, and the source for the rotten yet familiar smell about it comes to light... a second face on the back of his head! Again I find myself standing without having consciously left the chair, and Filius - though looking horrified as well - runs to block the door, fully expecting me to try again. He needn't worry though, this time I'm more in control of myself, hard as it is. Well, hello, Dark Lord. Long time, no see.

The years certainly haven't been kind to him; he looks rather more revolting than the last time I saw him, and the drinking of Unicorn blood he's admitting to is just enough to preserve the features of a living face. I fold my arms and force myself to calm down, reminding myself of the prophecy. If there's anyone but Dumbledore able to deal with the Dark Lord, it would be this improbable snotbag of a Gryffindor, though I can't fathom how an eleven-year-old is to do just that. But then again he's done it before, when he was only one.

Then everything seems to happen at once. Quirrell seizes Potter's wrist, and they both start screaming, the Dark Lord too - Quirrell lets go, stares at his reddened hand - The Dark Lord yells to "kill him", Quirrell lunges at the boy again and throws him to the ground, there's more yelling, "Master, I cannot hold him - my hands - my hands!" Indeed they suddenly look like a massive burn, like raw meat... what the hell is the boy doing to him? I've never seen any Dark curse work like this, and I've seen a lot. Filius and I are now both riveted to the screen, unable to believe our eyes. Potter attacks Quirrell in turn, grabs his front face which starts blistering too, and he rolls off the boy with both faces screaming, one in rage one in agony. Somehow it must have to do with Potter's touch, and the kid uses it to his advantage, clinging to his foe with all his might, his face as distorted in pain as Quirrell's while the latter seems to be falling apart - and there's Dumbledore at last, bolting in through a secret door and crying Potter's name...

I stand stock-still, feeling like frozen... and cold, very cold. Through the enchanted window I see the Headmaster wrench the fainting boy out of the grasp of that ... thing that was once our colleague, and that is now slowly falling asunder like a burnt log. There's something struggling in the remainders, the Headmaster brandishes his wand, and something like foul vapour emerges from the pile of ashes and leaves through the door, as an eerie gust of wind. Dumbledore looks right up at me - he must know that we are still here - and gives me his familiar twinkle, implying that everything is all right.

Filius beams like the sun itself, but I'm not so sure, not after what I've seen just now. I can't place this display of power from Potter yet, but it feels decidedly uncomfortable. The prophecy did speak of someone able to vanquish the Dark Lord, but I'm suddenly reminded of his credo: "there's no good or evil, only power and those too weak to seek it". Is it possible that this oh-so-innocent Hogwarts student does hold even Darker powers than my former master, and would only vanquish him to become the next Dark Lord himself? The Headmaster has been trying all year long to dissuade me of that suspicion, and when Potter's broom was cursed he almost succeeded... until now. I'll have to talk to him about this scene he didn't witness, and whether or not he admits the possibility, I'll continue to keep an eye on the little threat.

But right now, I think... I need a double of Ogden's.


We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.
Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

(Dumbledore in 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire')

My Snape fanfics: Reflections (F&B), The Red Light of the Sun (F&B), The Trapdoor Trials 1, 2, 3 (in "Snape's POV 2"),
Greetings from Down Under and An Unusual Patronus ... are hereby shamelessly advertised

Last edited by Serpentine; October 20th, 2005 at 7:58 pm.
Old October 23rd, 2005, 6:07 am
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eVaNeScEnCe  Female.gif eVaNeScEnCe is offline
Sixth Year
Joined: 6363 days
Location: In Snape's Pensieve
Age: 35
Posts: 1,167
Alright, time to revert to my former angstiness.
This is a short snippet I just came up with. It serves as proof that Dumbledore was not lying when he said Snape had shown incredible remorse at finding out who the prophecy referred to. Enjoy.

His head swam, his heart thumped loudly against his rib cage as he stumbled through the crowded Hog’s Head.
The Potter’s child…, it is them whom the prophecy refers to. At long last, I have found them…
The Dark Lord’s words rang in his ears and flowed through his veins like a venomous substance. His breaths became more shallow. The room, the entire atmosphere was intoxicating: it served as a jeering witness to his inner turmoil. Everything was a blur. He needed to get out as soon as possible. Not knowing where he was headed, he exited out the first door he saw, unaware of the solitary figure who had seen his frantic journey across the bar.
He threw himself out of the back exit and onto the cold, hard pavement. He was on all knees and didn’t bother getting up.
No, no this can’t be. Please, it can’t be.

The Potter’s child… it is them whom the prophecy refers to. At long last, I have found them

The words kept echoing inside his mind like a horrible nightmare.
Please, please, please no, not her. Not her. God, what have I done?At last, he could hold it no longer. Everything came rushing out in an instant, the tears and the painful sobs. Everything he had worked for since the first day he joined the death eaters became a shadowy blur, it lost itself in the midst of the one terrible truth: The Potters were the target. And all because of him.
“NOOO!” he screamed from the top of his lungs. “No, please, no, no! What have I done? Why? This can’t be! This can’t be!” The tears were now flowing freely and uncontrollably down his face. Every time he heard the words of Lord Voldemort echo in his mind, his sobs became more pronounced. He held up his hands against his face, covering his eyes like a lost little boy. “Pleaase” he now whimpered. “Please…”

A shadow suddenly loomed over him. At first he didn’t realize the figure that had crept up from behind. He didn’t realize there was anyone until a voice spoke out:
“Get up Severus. Get up.”
The voice. He recognized it. He didn’t need to lift up his head to see who it was: to see the long white beard and the half-moon glasses adorning the sparkling eyes. He knew, just from the tone, that the voice belonged to Albus Dumbledore.
Severus had frozen at the sound of these words. His sobs had quickly stopped. After a few seconds, he lifted up his head to look up at the old man.

He could have run. He could have shoved the old man out of the way and hurt him for daring to be so imprudent and sneaking up on him. He was, after all, his master’s enemy. But at that moment, upon looking up into those bright, compassionate eyes, Severus neither felt like running nor hurting. He knew at that moment, even without consciously realizing it, that he had found the one person who could finally save him.


Proud of Member of SIGS-- The Snape Is Good Society

"The truth is that I am forever living in my childhood... Actually I am living permanently in my dream, from which I make brief forays into reality." - Ingmar Bergman

Last edited by eVaNeScEnCe; October 23rd, 2005 at 6:14 am.
Old October 27th, 2005, 6:31 pm
Sineed  Female.gif Sineed is offline
Second Year
Joined: 6207 days
Location: Canada
Age: 50
Posts: 241
Serpentine, that was terrific! I always thought it was kind of improbable that all of that was happening, and the teachers were oblivious.

Evanescence, again, nice angst. Considering how controlled Snape is, the tears reveal the depths of his remorse.

Here (finally) is the second part of a POV I posted, erm, quite a while ago. To recap: Snape went looking for a certain old Potions book and realised that he'd been careless enough to leave it in the Potions classroom. He interrupts a Potions class only to discover that his book is not there. At the end of the first part of the POV, he had just deduced who must have his book.

The entire Potions class and its teacher were staring at me. I hadn't meant to speak aloud. Quelling my emotions, I swept back to my office and exploded some jars of Potions ingredients that were past their "best before" dates. But without a couple of quaking young detention-servers standing by, watching me vent my rage by casting a spell they could easily visualise being used upon their own heads, it just wasn't as satisfying. Indeed, as I surveyed the mess on my office floor, I felt more than a little silly, and cleared it up in a twinkling. I'd go for a walk, maybe up to the Astronomy Tower, where I could have a cigarette and think about how I could get my book back from Potter in the most discreet way possible.

As I walked, I chastised myself for not realising sooner that Potter had my book. Like at Christmas, after what Horace said at his party. "A natural at Potions." Like his mother? I should think not! Except for those eyes, he doesn't resemble Lily in the slightest way.

Half a pack of cigarettes later, I still had no ideas and was starting back down for dinner when I heard a crash on one of the lower floors. I rushed into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom to find that Potter had used Sectumsempra on Draco. As I performed the countercurse and Draco began to heal before our eyes, it occured to me how fortunate I was that Potter didn't have a brain in his head, or he'd be wondering why I was so well-versed in the countercurse to the very curse he'd read about in that book.

Once I'd determined that Draco was going to be fine, I came back to the bathroom, glaring as fiercely as I could to hide my glee. For once, Potter's carelessness and stupidity has worked in my favour. I could now openly bully Potter into giving me my book back.

"Leave us," I ordered Moaning Myrtle after arriving back in the bathroom. To my relief, she departed without a word this time, instead of her usual snarky comments like, "Hi, Severus. Now that Professor Slughorn has returned, I was wondering how soon you would be back in here, scrubbing the tiles under his supervision. Just because you're a Professor yourself doesn't mean you can't be naughty!" and similar such drivel.

My interrogation of Potter went quite as I expected. He's conceding nothing, and I'll have to wear him down with multiple detentions. Potter will weaken if he has to miss enough Quidditch, and besides, what with all my political entanglements of the past few years, I'd been neglecting to assign as many detentions as I had in the past. Filch was starting to whine about the enormous backlog of potential punishments he had in his office, and I could use an amusing diversion these days.

Old November 1st, 2005, 12:24 pm
ranju  Female.gif ranju is offline
First Year
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Location: On Europa with mice
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Here's one, this is the only one I can think of when it comes to Snape's point of view.

There he is having a good time, he's probably shy and probably has no idea who his parents were. Especially his father,James .
He looks exceptionally like him. HUH?? what did Quirell just blabber now??
" Yes.. yes"
Looks like he is going to be a great wizard. I know that I have make him hate me. Phew this is hard work." Yes... yes can we have some food right now, Prof. Quirell??"
"Er... yes" replied an abashed Quirell." Did you see Harry Potter? I mmmmean the boy who lived."
"Yes Quirell, I know"
Hmmm.... he has his mother's eyes that are looking at me now. Aargh will you stop it Quirell? I have more buisness to attend to than your boring lecture.
What happened?? why is Potter holding his forehead?? Hmmm.... Quirell. I seriously suspect him. I don't know why Dumbledore gave you this job, you filthy one.
Yes those are the same eyes that once used to look at me, in the same way, whenever I felt protected and cared for...

No offence.. but I seem to like Snape!!!


'I all did was use Sleakazy potion, Snape gave it to me '
Old November 1st, 2005, 6:46 pm
The Black Adder  Female.gif The Black Adder is offline
Fourth Year
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Location: Connecticut
Posts: 611
Originally Posted by Sineed
"Leave us," I ordered Moaning Myrtle after arriving back in the bathroom. To my relief, she departed without a word this time, instead of her usual snarky comments like, "Hi, Severus. Now that Professor Slughorn has returned, I was wondering how soon you would be back in here, scrubbing the tiles under his supervision. Just because you're a Professor yourself doesn't mean you can't be naughty!" and similar such drivel.
Made me laugh. Good job!

Ranju, To write Snape is to love Snape.


Some glad morning when this life is o'er
I'll fly away, Fly away, In the morning--
To my home on God's celestial shore,
I'll fly away, I'll fly away, I'll fly away...
Old November 12th, 2005, 7:09 pm
UselessCharmMaster  Undisclosed.gif UselessCharmMaster is offline
Sixth Year
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Location: Glass jar on Snape's desk
Posts: 1,148
Awww... finally got here. Yes, I've read it all! And in a hurry, cause this thread is running faster than I'm able to! *panting*

Excellent writing, everyone. Excellent. Hilarious, sad, moving, funny... we have everything in this very special thread. And it's clear: as Snape is smart and talented, Snape lovers are just very talented writers. It works simply like this.

Severus Snape: More Enigma Than Riddle

There is nothing wrong in being ambitious.
Old November 14th, 2005, 1:28 am
BookWhizzbee  Female.gif BookWhizzbee is offline
Second Year
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Posts: 269
Hooray! I was beginning to worry if this thread had died...
Well done, subtle! I always love your Dumbledore/Snape pieces and this one was no exception.

Nothing is more unnerving to the truly conventional than the unashamed misfit! - JKR
A book is like a mirror. If a fool looks in, you can't expect a genius to look out. - JKR
Old November 14th, 2005, 1:50 am
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random_musing  Female.gif random_musing is offline
Zonko's Employee
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That was really well done subtle!

Vintage LA
Sixties and smog = Match made in heaven
Supporter of the Snape loved Lily theory since 2005|And a Proud Snape/Lily AND James/Lily shipper

"I'm the most terrific liar you ever saw in your life. It's awful. If I'm on my way to the store to buy a magazine, even, and somebody asks me where I'm going, I'm liable to say I'm going to the opera. It's terrible." |Catcher in the Rye

Siggy image from LA 1960s & Avatar made by Makani|*PLEASE DO NOT TAKE*
Old November 14th, 2005, 1:59 am
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thestralgrin  Female.gif thestralgrin is offline
Third Year
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Originally Posted by subtle science
"Sir--no--" Snape protested, appalled at the thought of the filth soaking the fabric, covering his boots. He tried to pull free, but Dumbledore caught his ankle and held his foot still. "Professor Dumbledore, I can do that--"

"I know you can, son. But you don't have to."

Snape froze, unsure if he had heard correctly.
Severus, ever the stoic that he is. Another great read, subtle

Old November 14th, 2005, 2:03 am
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eVaNeScEnCe  Female.gif eVaNeScEnCe is offline
Sixth Year
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As usual, Subtle ! And very realistic.

Proud of Member of SIGS-- The Snape Is Good Society

"The truth is that I am forever living in my childhood... Actually I am living permanently in my dream, from which I make brief forays into reality." - Ingmar Bergman
Old November 14th, 2005, 2:09 am
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subtle science  Undisclosed.gif subtle science is offline
Hogwarts Graduate
Joined: 5832 days
Posts: 2,470
Thank you, thank you, thank you.

We certainly can't let this thread die. It may languish briefly--but not die. There's always more angst to keep it alive!

: )

ETA: Whoops--simultaneous posting...Gotta add another Thank you!

"Trip-trap, trip-trap"--Norske Folkeeventyr
Thanks for the addition, but I don't need it. But it's always nice to have Happy Trails.
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