A/N: This is my first venture into Harry Potter fan fiction, and also the first time I've tried to write actual drabbles. It's much harder to write an exactly 100-word piece than I thought. These take place in my own little imagining of the fifth book, although the last drabble actually references an event that did occur in canon, though not the way I describe it. When I refer to the Headmistress, I mean Umbridge. If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction.

Unexpected

Severus can see the light under Minerva's office door. He doesn't bother to knock; she isn't expecting anyone else. "Minerva, I—" the rest of the sentence dies in his throat. It is not Minerva, but Dolores Umbridge sitting behind the Head of Gryffindor's desk. Her hands rest possessively on the desk that is not hers. She arches an eyebrow so high he thinks it might reach her hairline. "What, precisely," she speaks slowly, in that disgustingly sugary voice, "what precisely, would you need to discuss with Minerva at—" she glances meaningfully at the clock,"—a quarter to midnight?"

Choices

He leans heavily against the cold stone for support, and considers his options. He would like nothing better than to collapse in his rooms, but the dungeons are too far away. As humiliating as asking for help is, it's nothing to what he would feel if he passed out and student, or, Merlin forbid, the pink toad found him. Dumbledore's gone, and the hospital wing is out of the question. Which means there is only one choice. He scowls. He hates showing weakness. But, she has seen him like this before. Slowly, painfully, he makes his way to Minerva's quarters.

Unbearable

"Oh, Severus…" she all but coos. He winces inwardly and turns, reluctantly to face her.

"Yes, Headmistress?" he replies smoothly. His face betrays none of the hatred he feels towards this woman. But then, he's excellent at hiding his feelings when he wants to.

"Severus, I would appreciate it so very much if you would—"

Was the woman batting her eyelashes at him? It was not, should not, be possible. He must be imagining it. Must. Be.

"Severus!"

"What?"

She sounds annoyed. He can't pay attention, because his eyes are focused on the lurid pink color of her robes.

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