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Aug. 24th, 2006 11:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
averygoodun42I am so very, very lucky. Fortunate, that is. I feel so guilty about bitching about (really quite) minor quibbles whenever I look beyond my own reflection and into other people's worlds. My life may not be perfect, but it is a damn sight better than a lot of people's.
It's good to have a reality check every now and again, but dang! the outer world is depressing.
---
In other news, I do believe that the last chapter of SMHC is now plotted out to my satisfaction. Details will probably change, much the way the last chapter of MAC changed, but I think the order of events is now right. Now to accomplish that with the next chapter...
---
This is from the absolute first HP fic I ever wrote. (I know I said MAC was my first, but, well, MAC is the first fic I got beyond 20K words on, with a definite plot and ending in mind. This fic was the first embarrassing and awkward fumble, whereas with MAC I knew how to reach completion. ;-)
This, erm, stalled out after I wrote myself into a plot hole the size of Texas, but there are elements of what I did write that I am pleased with.
Please note: I wrote this before I had read much fanfic. I'm not sure I had even found Ashwinder, yet. I certainly had no idea there were such things as cliches and challenges, and didn't even know there were already parodies out there. It is entirely coincidental that this was written shortly after Pearle's "Codpiece" challenge was issued. I was just trying to think of the most ridiculous image, and, well, Snape doing the tango seemed to fit the bill. I only discovered the challenge after this had been abandoned to an untidy grave.
Please, please forgive the changes in tenses and other errors. Remember that this is my very first fumbling attempt at fiction.
---
As Snape's body relaxed in the warm water, his mind drifted back to Friday afternoon.
He had been walking to dinner from the dungeons when he heard a familiar voice in one of the smaller classrooms. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but it had the singsong rhythm of a spell being practiced. He rounded the corner and just as he entered the room he saw a violet jet of light streak toward him. He tried to dodge, but too late; the spell had hit him in the chest and knocked him over.
He heard a frightened gasp, and then saw Hermione leaning over him, looking very pale and frightened.
"P-professor Snape, sir, are you all right?"
"And what was that charming spell you hit me with, my dear?" he said as he smiled warmly up at her.
"Oh dear," Hermione whispered, growing pale. "It was a Reversal Charm, Professor. I'm so, so sorry."
She offered him a hand up. "I'll just go look up the counter jinx and..."
She trailed off, terror in her eyes, as Snape continued to hold her hand and gaze at her. He couldn't stop staring at her. How had he never noticed how beautiful she was? That long hair of hers, while bushy, was a gorgeous rich brown with golden highlights twinkling in the torch light. Those big brown eyes of hers were full of intelligence, but right now were looking much, much too worried.
"My dear Hermione," he said, raising her hand to his lips, "you look much too concerned right now." He kissed the soft skin on the back of her hand, took out his wand, muttered "floreo ameton," and handed her one of the two white roses that appeared.
"What you need," he said as he pulled her in to him, encircling her waist with his free arm and holding her hand gently in his, "is to dance!"
Hermione looked at him, her wide eyes full of bewilderment, though a nervous grin was twitching at her lips as Snape led her into a passionate Tango.
"Dum dum dum dum," he sang softly, giving them a beat, "da da de dah dah dum dum dum dum." His rich voice bounced off the stone walls, echoing into a complex wordless melody. He moved them gracefully across the stone floor, singing the rhythm under his breath as they danced cheek to cheek around the room. He finally came to the end of the song, and twirled her out. Her robes formed an elegant swirl around her legs, rising slightly to reveal her trainers beneath. He then pulled her back in for the dip.
She let out a small gasp as he held her securely in his arms and bent her back. He felt the heat of her body pulse against his. He felt her chest heaving against his chest. He watched as her flushed cheeks grew darker, her moist parted lips so close to his... forbidden fruit he so desperately wanted to taste...
"Professor Schnapps?"
Both his and Hermione's heads' whipped over to look in the direction of the voice. There, floating a few feet from them, was the very shocked figure of Professor Binns. Snape lifted Hermione to her feet and she broke away, running for the spell book on the floor. Meanwhile, Professor Binns had stopped looking shocked and had started laughing almost hysterically.
"Well, I believe I've seen it all, now," he gasped, silvery tears rolling from his eyes. Then suddenly he disappeared with a small pop.
Before Snape had time to wonder what had happened to the ghost, Hermione had her wand aimed at him and panted, "Retrorecindi."
Snape stood there, suddenly feeling very foolish indeed.
"Professor Snape?" queried Hermione tentatively, coming close to see if the counter jinx had worked.
Snape looked at her, and the embarrassment he felt transformed itself into a fierce anger.
"Miss Granger, you insipid little girl," he whispered, trying very hard to keep control, but crushing the rose still in his hand. "What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing?"
Hermione got a relieved look on her face, and said, "Oh good, you're back to yourself."
"And you," Snape said, closing his hand on her arm, almost beside himself with rage, "are coming with me to explain to the Headmaster exactly why you are dropping Potions with a zero grade."
She blanched.
XXX
Snape sank lower into the tub, the memory still hot in his veins. He sank down and submersed his head, hoping to drown his feelings that way.
It was no use.
He reemerged, water dripping from his prominent nose. The worst part about the entire experience was that he couldn't forget anything about it.
He couldn't forget how carefree he had felt for those few moments. He couldn't forget how her body, all warm and tender, felt pressed against his. He couldn't forget the surprised expression on Hermione's face as he pulled her close, or the (pleased?) little gasp she made as he dipped her.
He also couldn't forget how she broke free and ran to find the counter jinx, as if dancing with him was the worst torture she could imagine. Well, it would be, wouldn't it? He knew very well that he wasn't very pleasant to look at, especially compared to the likes of Harry Potter, and his social skills had always left something to be desired. Especially around teenage girls.
The memory of Lily came floating up, but he stomped it back down as he got out of the tub.
He had, of course, suggested expulsion when he'd taken Hermione to Headmaster's office. But Dumbledore had just looked at him, and calmly suggested that he, Dumbledore, interview Hermione alone, while he, Snape, wait in the dungeon.
When Dumbledore had shown up, his eyes were twinkling way too much.
"So, Severus, I hear you're an excellent dancer. Why have you kept us in the dark all these years?"
Snape glowered at him.
"Are you expelling her?"
"No, nor is she going to drop your class."
Snape looked at Dumbledore, the anger rising again.
"But, but..." he spluttered.
"She swears it was an accident."
"But... Potter... humiliate..." Snape continued to splutter, words failing him completely.
"Severus, I have received a promise of secrecy from Miss Granger. She will not tell a soul about the affair." Dumbledore smiled subtly at the word.
Snape was about to stammer some more, but Dumbledore held up his hand.
"Speaking of souls, I must now go write an advert for a new History teacher. It seems as though dancing really is a cure for all ills, wouldn't you say?" Dumbledore smiled mischievously at Snape.
"But..."
"I will speak with you about this, Severus, but only after you have had some time to regain your composure. Say Sunday evening, over a game of chess?"
Snape sighed in defeat. "Yes, Headmaster."
Dumbledore smiled at him again, patted him on the shoulder consolingly, then left to write the job post.
XXX
Snape looked at himself in the mirror again. The bath had made him achieve an almost rosy hue, which was quickly fading in the chilly dungeon air. His features were the same as they always had been. Every year a few more lines were added around his eyes and mouth, and the crease between his brows seemed to grow deeper by the day, but overall it was the same face the mirror had shown him all his adult life, and then some.
He looked into his cold black eyes.
"Give up your secrets," he said. "You can hide nothing from me."
They remained stubbornly empty of revelation. He sighed and turned to go to bed.
As he got under the squashy black covers, his eye rested on the rose lying neglected on his bedside table. It seemed to be getting less crumpled every day. He hoped it was the torch light that was giving it a pinkish tint.
He sighed as he turned off the lights with his wand.
"It'll probably be dead by tomorrow."
He hoped.
It's good to have a reality check every now and again, but dang! the outer world is depressing.
---
In other news, I do believe that the last chapter of SMHC is now plotted out to my satisfaction. Details will probably change, much the way the last chapter of MAC changed, but I think the order of events is now right. Now to accomplish that with the next chapter...
---
This is from the absolute first HP fic I ever wrote. (I know I said MAC was my first, but, well, MAC is the first fic I got beyond 20K words on, with a definite plot and ending in mind. This fic was the first embarrassing and awkward fumble, whereas with MAC I knew how to reach completion. ;-)
This, erm, stalled out after I wrote myself into a plot hole the size of Texas, but there are elements of what I did write that I am pleased with.
Please note: I wrote this before I had read much fanfic. I'm not sure I had even found Ashwinder, yet. I certainly had no idea there were such things as cliches and challenges, and didn't even know there were already parodies out there. It is entirely coincidental that this was written shortly after Pearle's "Codpiece" challenge was issued. I was just trying to think of the most ridiculous image, and, well, Snape doing the tango seemed to fit the bill. I only discovered the challenge after this had been abandoned to an untidy grave.
Please, please forgive the changes in tenses and other errors. Remember that this is my very first fumbling attempt at fiction.
---
As Snape's body relaxed in the warm water, his mind drifted back to Friday afternoon.
He had been walking to dinner from the dungeons when he heard a familiar voice in one of the smaller classrooms. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but it had the singsong rhythm of a spell being practiced. He rounded the corner and just as he entered the room he saw a violet jet of light streak toward him. He tried to dodge, but too late; the spell had hit him in the chest and knocked him over.
He heard a frightened gasp, and then saw Hermione leaning over him, looking very pale and frightened.
"P-professor Snape, sir, are you all right?"
"And what was that charming spell you hit me with, my dear?" he said as he smiled warmly up at her.
"Oh dear," Hermione whispered, growing pale. "It was a Reversal Charm, Professor. I'm so, so sorry."
She offered him a hand up. "I'll just go look up the counter jinx and..."
She trailed off, terror in her eyes, as Snape continued to hold her hand and gaze at her. He couldn't stop staring at her. How had he never noticed how beautiful she was? That long hair of hers, while bushy, was a gorgeous rich brown with golden highlights twinkling in the torch light. Those big brown eyes of hers were full of intelligence, but right now were looking much, much too worried.
"My dear Hermione," he said, raising her hand to his lips, "you look much too concerned right now." He kissed the soft skin on the back of her hand, took out his wand, muttered "floreo ameton," and handed her one of the two white roses that appeared.
"What you need," he said as he pulled her in to him, encircling her waist with his free arm and holding her hand gently in his, "is to dance!"
Hermione looked at him, her wide eyes full of bewilderment, though a nervous grin was twitching at her lips as Snape led her into a passionate Tango.
"Dum dum dum dum," he sang softly, giving them a beat, "da da de dah dah dum dum dum dum." His rich voice bounced off the stone walls, echoing into a complex wordless melody. He moved them gracefully across the stone floor, singing the rhythm under his breath as they danced cheek to cheek around the room. He finally came to the end of the song, and twirled her out. Her robes formed an elegant swirl around her legs, rising slightly to reveal her trainers beneath. He then pulled her back in for the dip.
She let out a small gasp as he held her securely in his arms and bent her back. He felt the heat of her body pulse against his. He felt her chest heaving against his chest. He watched as her flushed cheeks grew darker, her moist parted lips so close to his... forbidden fruit he so desperately wanted to taste...
"Professor Schnapps?"
Both his and Hermione's heads' whipped over to look in the direction of the voice. There, floating a few feet from them, was the very shocked figure of Professor Binns. Snape lifted Hermione to her feet and she broke away, running for the spell book on the floor. Meanwhile, Professor Binns had stopped looking shocked and had started laughing almost hysterically.
"Well, I believe I've seen it all, now," he gasped, silvery tears rolling from his eyes. Then suddenly he disappeared with a small pop.
Before Snape had time to wonder what had happened to the ghost, Hermione had her wand aimed at him and panted, "Retrorecindi."
Snape stood there, suddenly feeling very foolish indeed.
"Professor Snape?" queried Hermione tentatively, coming close to see if the counter jinx had worked.
Snape looked at her, and the embarrassment he felt transformed itself into a fierce anger.
"Miss Granger, you insipid little girl," he whispered, trying very hard to keep control, but crushing the rose still in his hand. "What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing?"
Hermione got a relieved look on her face, and said, "Oh good, you're back to yourself."
"And you," Snape said, closing his hand on her arm, almost beside himself with rage, "are coming with me to explain to the Headmaster exactly why you are dropping Potions with a zero grade."
She blanched.
Snape sank lower into the tub, the memory still hot in his veins. He sank down and submersed his head, hoping to drown his feelings that way.
It was no use.
He reemerged, water dripping from his prominent nose. The worst part about the entire experience was that he couldn't forget anything about it.
He couldn't forget how carefree he had felt for those few moments. He couldn't forget how her body, all warm and tender, felt pressed against his. He couldn't forget the surprised expression on Hermione's face as he pulled her close, or the (pleased?) little gasp she made as he dipped her.
He also couldn't forget how she broke free and ran to find the counter jinx, as if dancing with him was the worst torture she could imagine. Well, it would be, wouldn't it? He knew very well that he wasn't very pleasant to look at, especially compared to the likes of Harry Potter, and his social skills had always left something to be desired. Especially around teenage girls.
The memory of Lily came floating up, but he stomped it back down as he got out of the tub.
He had, of course, suggested expulsion when he'd taken Hermione to Headmaster's office. But Dumbledore had just looked at him, and calmly suggested that he, Dumbledore, interview Hermione alone, while he, Snape, wait in the dungeon.
When Dumbledore had shown up, his eyes were twinkling way too much.
"So, Severus, I hear you're an excellent dancer. Why have you kept us in the dark all these years?"
Snape glowered at him.
"Are you expelling her?"
"No, nor is she going to drop your class."
Snape looked at Dumbledore, the anger rising again.
"But, but..." he spluttered.
"She swears it was an accident."
"But... Potter... humiliate..." Snape continued to splutter, words failing him completely.
"Severus, I have received a promise of secrecy from Miss Granger. She will not tell a soul about the affair." Dumbledore smiled subtly at the word.
Snape was about to stammer some more, but Dumbledore held up his hand.
"Speaking of souls, I must now go write an advert for a new History teacher. It seems as though dancing really is a cure for all ills, wouldn't you say?" Dumbledore smiled mischievously at Snape.
"But..."
"I will speak with you about this, Severus, but only after you have had some time to regain your composure. Say Sunday evening, over a game of chess?"
Snape sighed in defeat. "Yes, Headmaster."
Dumbledore smiled at him again, patted him on the shoulder consolingly, then left to write the job post.
Snape looked at himself in the mirror again. The bath had made him achieve an almost rosy hue, which was quickly fading in the chilly dungeon air. His features were the same as they always had been. Every year a few more lines were added around his eyes and mouth, and the crease between his brows seemed to grow deeper by the day, but overall it was the same face the mirror had shown him all his adult life, and then some.
He looked into his cold black eyes.
"Give up your secrets," he said. "You can hide nothing from me."
They remained stubbornly empty of revelation. He sighed and turned to go to bed.
As he got under the squashy black covers, his eye rested on the rose lying neglected on his bedside table. It seemed to be getting less crumpled every day. He hoped it was the torch light that was giving it a pinkish tint.
He sighed as he turned off the lights with his wand.
"It'll probably be dead by tomorrow."
He hoped.
