Disclaimer: Sexy Snape or anything else HP doesn't belong to me, but this
piece of fanfic is not intended to harm neither the wonderful Mrs Rowling
nor Warner Bros. But the spells I made up I ask to be left exempt.
AN: This is a missing scene set between the arrival of the teachers in the girls' toilet and breakfast on the day of the first Quidditch match in PS. I saw the film four times and I always wondered about what happened in that night. Feedback appreciated very much, as always at [email protected]
Rated: G
Written: 4 Jan 02
In Between . and After
by Claudia
Hoping that no one had noticed his torn trousers and the cut above his knee, Severus Snape hurried back to his rooms as quickly as his injury would allow. He could be fairly sure that for the moment Quirrell couldn't get up to any mischief, what with the knocked-out mountain troll to be dealt with.
How utterly convenient for the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher to pass out on delivering the news of a troll inspecting the dungeons. As if it had taken Quirrell much to cast that simple luring spell on the pea- brained creature to distract the whole castle so he could conveniently go up to the third floor and find a way to get around Fluffy once he was sure no one was left in the Great Hall.
What exactly it had been that had him hurry to the guarded trapdoor, Severus couldn't really tell. It certainly hadn't been a hunch - it had been more of a gut reaction to a piece of information, a very quick realisation. Mountain trolls were as thick as their ugly green skulls, thus unable to find their way to the Hogwarts grounds unassisted in the first place. Dumbledore had been wise enough to pick up on Quirrell's cue, having no doubt seen Severus escape from the dining hall from the corner of his eye, and ordered to school to safety, trusting the Potions Master to take care of the more precarious situation.
Severus limped through the still deserted corridors, glad no one could see him like this, his robe draped securely over the tear in his garment and skin. Potter had seen him, of course. The boy was a little bit too perceptive for his own good at times, and there was no way for Severus to tell if he kept this bit information to himself. Most likely not, he thought. But I'd rather they suspected me than Quirrell. This could get out of their clumsy little hands. The worst they can expect from me is better than .
He didn't finish his thought. The angry cut above his knee began to throb more with every step he took as if to remind him to hurry. The stairs leading to his private rooms seemed steeper than usual, but Severus wouldn't allow the pain to dim his sense of perception. He set his jaw and took the steps in stride. What he wanted to prove was . rather unimportant.
At least Fluffy's fangs and slobber weren't poisonous. Knowing Hagrid, Severus was sure he wouldn't have lasted this long if that had been the case. If only he knew how to get around that infernal dog. The Groundskeeper, of course, wouldn't reveal that to him. It was a good thing, too, because that meant that Quirrell didn't know either - at least not yet. After he had disarmed the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher - ha, if you could call him that, what with his inability to get around that three-headed monster - he had tried to push the door closed. That was when the left head had had a chance to taste the Potions Master. The pain in his leg had only started to become excruciating when he had skidded to a halt in the girl's toilet. That's where he and Quirrell had met up again, under the stern gaze of Minerva.
Said he just wanted to check on the sabre-toothed beast, Severus thought angrily as he drew his wand and opened the door to his rooms with a mumbled spell. Make sure the troll didn't harm it. As if. He sneered.
"Illumino!" he snapped, waving his wand. Almost instantly, flames flickered into life and danced their wick ballet on the tops of thick creamy candles. Some more flicks of his wand woke the embers in huge braziers on tripods to warming fires. His fireplace had always been cold. It meant asking for trouble in his position to keep an inviting fire ablaze underneath the chimney. Instead of the grate, he had put an old trunk in the blackness, and he hadn't travelled by Floo powder in a long time.
He left his robe on a chair by the door, and as he crossed the tiny hall to his bed chamber, he tapped the right pocket on his frock coat, and the countless black buttons running down its front slipped free off their holes. The same happened to the buttons at his ankles, and the trousers landed on his bed, next to the coat. Before he allowed himself to examine the cut, he limped into his bathroom, and with a sigh sat on the edge of the bathtub.
The cut didn't look that bad, after all, and the dog's saliva seemed to have stopped the bleeding. Yet he washed the wound carefully, and murmured the Salutifer chant to make the cut heal. Severus knew that Madam Pomfrey would have made a far better job of it, but he could hardly ask her. She would need to know what exactly had caused the cut, and the fewer people knew about Fluffy, the better.
The chant worked quite well, despite his probably inept use of it. He could feel some of the healing power calm the rest of his body, too, if not his mind. He could feel the words of the chant reverberate in his chest and hum in his throat, the sounds and sensations weaving into a low melodious rumble. He used to know the chant much better, but he hadn't had to apply it in a long time. The thin red scar appeared only slowly, but when he was sure that the cut was sealed, he stopped, and the crackling of the fires was once again the only sound to be heard.
Severus knew the cut would take its time to heal, the fading scar a reminder of the sudden realisation that had alarmed him so earlier that evening. Hopefully, it wouldn't disappear too soon.
End
AN: This is a missing scene set between the arrival of the teachers in the girls' toilet and breakfast on the day of the first Quidditch match in PS. I saw the film four times and I always wondered about what happened in that night. Feedback appreciated very much, as always at [email protected]
Rated: G
Written: 4 Jan 02
In Between . and After
by Claudia
Hoping that no one had noticed his torn trousers and the cut above his knee, Severus Snape hurried back to his rooms as quickly as his injury would allow. He could be fairly sure that for the moment Quirrell couldn't get up to any mischief, what with the knocked-out mountain troll to be dealt with.
How utterly convenient for the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher to pass out on delivering the news of a troll inspecting the dungeons. As if it had taken Quirrell much to cast that simple luring spell on the pea- brained creature to distract the whole castle so he could conveniently go up to the third floor and find a way to get around Fluffy once he was sure no one was left in the Great Hall.
What exactly it had been that had him hurry to the guarded trapdoor, Severus couldn't really tell. It certainly hadn't been a hunch - it had been more of a gut reaction to a piece of information, a very quick realisation. Mountain trolls were as thick as their ugly green skulls, thus unable to find their way to the Hogwarts grounds unassisted in the first place. Dumbledore had been wise enough to pick up on Quirrell's cue, having no doubt seen Severus escape from the dining hall from the corner of his eye, and ordered to school to safety, trusting the Potions Master to take care of the more precarious situation.
Severus limped through the still deserted corridors, glad no one could see him like this, his robe draped securely over the tear in his garment and skin. Potter had seen him, of course. The boy was a little bit too perceptive for his own good at times, and there was no way for Severus to tell if he kept this bit information to himself. Most likely not, he thought. But I'd rather they suspected me than Quirrell. This could get out of their clumsy little hands. The worst they can expect from me is better than .
He didn't finish his thought. The angry cut above his knee began to throb more with every step he took as if to remind him to hurry. The stairs leading to his private rooms seemed steeper than usual, but Severus wouldn't allow the pain to dim his sense of perception. He set his jaw and took the steps in stride. What he wanted to prove was . rather unimportant.
At least Fluffy's fangs and slobber weren't poisonous. Knowing Hagrid, Severus was sure he wouldn't have lasted this long if that had been the case. If only he knew how to get around that infernal dog. The Groundskeeper, of course, wouldn't reveal that to him. It was a good thing, too, because that meant that Quirrell didn't know either - at least not yet. After he had disarmed the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher - ha, if you could call him that, what with his inability to get around that three-headed monster - he had tried to push the door closed. That was when the left head had had a chance to taste the Potions Master. The pain in his leg had only started to become excruciating when he had skidded to a halt in the girl's toilet. That's where he and Quirrell had met up again, under the stern gaze of Minerva.
Said he just wanted to check on the sabre-toothed beast, Severus thought angrily as he drew his wand and opened the door to his rooms with a mumbled spell. Make sure the troll didn't harm it. As if. He sneered.
"Illumino!" he snapped, waving his wand. Almost instantly, flames flickered into life and danced their wick ballet on the tops of thick creamy candles. Some more flicks of his wand woke the embers in huge braziers on tripods to warming fires. His fireplace had always been cold. It meant asking for trouble in his position to keep an inviting fire ablaze underneath the chimney. Instead of the grate, he had put an old trunk in the blackness, and he hadn't travelled by Floo powder in a long time.
He left his robe on a chair by the door, and as he crossed the tiny hall to his bed chamber, he tapped the right pocket on his frock coat, and the countless black buttons running down its front slipped free off their holes. The same happened to the buttons at his ankles, and the trousers landed on his bed, next to the coat. Before he allowed himself to examine the cut, he limped into his bathroom, and with a sigh sat on the edge of the bathtub.
The cut didn't look that bad, after all, and the dog's saliva seemed to have stopped the bleeding. Yet he washed the wound carefully, and murmured the Salutifer chant to make the cut heal. Severus knew that Madam Pomfrey would have made a far better job of it, but he could hardly ask her. She would need to know what exactly had caused the cut, and the fewer people knew about Fluffy, the better.
The chant worked quite well, despite his probably inept use of it. He could feel some of the healing power calm the rest of his body, too, if not his mind. He could feel the words of the chant reverberate in his chest and hum in his throat, the sounds and sensations weaving into a low melodious rumble. He used to know the chant much better, but he hadn't had to apply it in a long time. The thin red scar appeared only slowly, but when he was sure that the cut was sealed, he stopped, and the crackling of the fires was once again the only sound to be heard.
Severus knew the cut would take its time to heal, the fading scar a reminder of the sudden realisation that had alarmed him so earlier that evening. Hopefully, it wouldn't disappear too soon.
End