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Dec. 14th, 2003 09:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
essayelOoh, just watching 'home' on the television! This is quite funny. There's a programme called something like SAS Survival Skills and it's on the telly right now and I 'm watching it because the sitting room is the only warm place in the house. It's all filmed around where I live. I've seen the bridge and the supermarket and lots of the little lanes are familiar. What fun to see the Sugar Loaf and the Ysgwryd Fawr in the background while all these terribly dangerous people are jumping around in front!! Anyway, earlier I was trying ever so hard to finish my one shot about Hallowe'en but Jenny was the other side of the kitchen table doing her homework and concentrating was completely out of the question. Instead I wrote a silly sequel to my silly story about moustaches (which can be found at http://www.livejournal.com/users/essayel/26663.html#cutid1 ) and here it is:
“Two Days Later” – A Sequel to “Saving Face”.
Potions! Severus Snape entered the laboratory first of all the Slytherins and took his seat with a sigh of happy anticipation. Double Potions in the warm smokey fug of the laboratory was his favourite lesson of the week – even though he had to endure the irritation that the lesson time was shared with Gryffindor House. Since that incident in the third year, the one that had necessitated the redecoration of the entire lab, the replacement of virtually every cauldron and Professor Pilking’s confinement to the infirmary for a week, the Gryffindor males had been kept on a very tight leash. Severus grimaced. That was an unhappily apt metaphor in one of their cases but he was sworn to secrecy.
As the rest of the Slytherin’s and a scattering of the Gryffindor girls began to filter into the room, he lit his fire and began to bring his cauldron up to room temperature. He had gone through today’s lesson the night before, checking the optimum requirements and a room temperature cauldron increased the chances of making an effective potion by a significant amount – perhaps as much as five per cent. Most of the students didn’t bother, he knew, but such scrupulous attention to detail had led to him maintaining his position as top Potions student for the past five years and he didn’t intend to lose it now. No matter what the distractions.
He sighed as Fintan McKee took a place on the bench at his side. Fintan was allright in his way – a reasonable, or at least non-lethal, potion maker – but Severus would have been happier if he had set up his cauldron elsewhere. He had, he knew, done nothing to encourage Fintan’s interest but interested Fintan certainly was and Severus could only wish that Fintan didn’t have to be quite so open about it.
“Hi, Sevvie,” Fintan cooed, tossing his brown curls back from his eyes with a coquettish gesture. He cast a sidelong glance towards his hawk-nosed neighbour and simpered. “Are you going to give me a helping hand?” he asked, hopefully.
Severus scowled at Avery and Nott who were chuckling at his expression and they sobered abruptly. One didn’t cross Snape…one could wind up drinking pumpkin juice with some very funny additives if one crossed Snape. “No,” Severus said shortly. “You know very well that we are being marked individually for this assignment and it should be well within the capabilities of any seventh year. Sorry, McKee but you’re on your own.”
“Ooh,” Fintan made a disappointed face then grinned. “You’re so assertive today, Sevvie. It suits you.” He drew breath as though to expand on the theme but then a peculiarly intent look came into his eyes and he stared towards the Gryffindor side of the room. Head Boy Potter and his insufferable cronies had just entered the room. Severus felt the sneer that he had assumed automatically begin to die as he heard Fintan’s excited speculation.
“Well, well, what has been going on the with the Gryffs? Look at little Peter. Could he be walking more carefully? I don’t think so. And Potter – Potter looks positively tortured, Severus.”
It was true. ‘Walking on eggshells’ did not begin to describe the caution with which the Gryffindor seventh years were moving.
“Oh, Black is so…” Fintan gasped. “Allright Severus, I know he’s a shit to you but just LOOK at him. Look at that moustache…can’t you just imagine it prickling gently as he…”
Something must be very badly wrong because Black, instead of fixing Severus with his usual glare of hatred, set his bag down with a thump and seated himself gingerly on the cold hard lab stool with closed eyes and a wince.
Fintan gave a little excited chirp. “And it looks like Black Beauty has had a rough ride too. I wonder… oh, there’s Lupin.”
Remus Lupin strode grinning to his place at the bench, seated himself without hesitation and opened his text book. As he began to bring his cauldron up to room temperature all three of his fellow Gryffindors turned, very carefully indeed, and looked at him. Remus smiled back, shifted carelessly on his seat and turned back to his book.
Severus controlled himself with difficulty. Instead he turned to Fintan and shrugged. “I thought everyone knew,” he said. “It’s common knowledge at home that my abominable cousin has – shall we say, liberated views? The Black’s have always been very – progressive in that sort of way. However, it looks as though he has – er – bitten off more than he can chew with Remus Lupin.”
“No,” Fintan looked delighted. “NOBODY knew! Severus, how could you keep a secret like that? To tell would have been – would have been a - a public service. I mean,” he waved a languid hand, “Big Roger in Ravenclaw has had the hots for your cousin Sirius for years!” “Big Roger, eh?”
Severus felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Tell you what, Fintan, I’ll let you have the pleasure of telling him.”
Later, he helped Fintan chop his Murtlap spleen – the prospect of his homophobic cousin being beaten to pulp by Roger of Ravenclaw, who was indeed very big, was enough to put him in a good mood until – oh at least lunchtime!
Jen's gone to bed now so I'm going to finish that story if it kills me!
“Two Days Later” – A Sequel to “Saving Face”.
Potions! Severus Snape entered the laboratory first of all the Slytherins and took his seat with a sigh of happy anticipation. Double Potions in the warm smokey fug of the laboratory was his favourite lesson of the week – even though he had to endure the irritation that the lesson time was shared with Gryffindor House. Since that incident in the third year, the one that had necessitated the redecoration of the entire lab, the replacement of virtually every cauldron and Professor Pilking’s confinement to the infirmary for a week, the Gryffindor males had been kept on a very tight leash. Severus grimaced. That was an unhappily apt metaphor in one of their cases but he was sworn to secrecy.
As the rest of the Slytherin’s and a scattering of the Gryffindor girls began to filter into the room, he lit his fire and began to bring his cauldron up to room temperature. He had gone through today’s lesson the night before, checking the optimum requirements and a room temperature cauldron increased the chances of making an effective potion by a significant amount – perhaps as much as five per cent. Most of the students didn’t bother, he knew, but such scrupulous attention to detail had led to him maintaining his position as top Potions student for the past five years and he didn’t intend to lose it now. No matter what the distractions.
He sighed as Fintan McKee took a place on the bench at his side. Fintan was allright in his way – a reasonable, or at least non-lethal, potion maker – but Severus would have been happier if he had set up his cauldron elsewhere. He had, he knew, done nothing to encourage Fintan’s interest but interested Fintan certainly was and Severus could only wish that Fintan didn’t have to be quite so open about it.
“Hi, Sevvie,” Fintan cooed, tossing his brown curls back from his eyes with a coquettish gesture. He cast a sidelong glance towards his hawk-nosed neighbour and simpered. “Are you going to give me a helping hand?” he asked, hopefully.
Severus scowled at Avery and Nott who were chuckling at his expression and they sobered abruptly. One didn’t cross Snape…one could wind up drinking pumpkin juice with some very funny additives if one crossed Snape. “No,” Severus said shortly. “You know very well that we are being marked individually for this assignment and it should be well within the capabilities of any seventh year. Sorry, McKee but you’re on your own.”
“Ooh,” Fintan made a disappointed face then grinned. “You’re so assertive today, Sevvie. It suits you.” He drew breath as though to expand on the theme but then a peculiarly intent look came into his eyes and he stared towards the Gryffindor side of the room. Head Boy Potter and his insufferable cronies had just entered the room. Severus felt the sneer that he had assumed automatically begin to die as he heard Fintan’s excited speculation.
“Well, well, what has been going on the with the Gryffs? Look at little Peter. Could he be walking more carefully? I don’t think so. And Potter – Potter looks positively tortured, Severus.”
It was true. ‘Walking on eggshells’ did not begin to describe the caution with which the Gryffindor seventh years were moving.
“Oh, Black is so…” Fintan gasped. “Allright Severus, I know he’s a shit to you but just LOOK at him. Look at that moustache…can’t you just imagine it prickling gently as he…”
Something must be very badly wrong because Black, instead of fixing Severus with his usual glare of hatred, set his bag down with a thump and seated himself gingerly on the cold hard lab stool with closed eyes and a wince.
Fintan gave a little excited chirp. “And it looks like Black Beauty has had a rough ride too. I wonder… oh, there’s Lupin.”
Remus Lupin strode grinning to his place at the bench, seated himself without hesitation and opened his text book. As he began to bring his cauldron up to room temperature all three of his fellow Gryffindors turned, very carefully indeed, and looked at him. Remus smiled back, shifted carelessly on his seat and turned back to his book.
Severus controlled himself with difficulty. Instead he turned to Fintan and shrugged. “I thought everyone knew,” he said. “It’s common knowledge at home that my abominable cousin has – shall we say, liberated views? The Black’s have always been very – progressive in that sort of way. However, it looks as though he has – er – bitten off more than he can chew with Remus Lupin.”
“No,” Fintan looked delighted. “NOBODY knew! Severus, how could you keep a secret like that? To tell would have been – would have been a - a public service. I mean,” he waved a languid hand, “Big Roger in Ravenclaw has had the hots for your cousin Sirius for years!” “Big Roger, eh?”
Severus felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Tell you what, Fintan, I’ll let you have the pleasure of telling him.”
Later, he helped Fintan chop his Murtlap spleen – the prospect of his homophobic cousin being beaten to pulp by Roger of Ravenclaw, who was indeed very big, was enough to put him in a good mood until – oh at least lunchtime!
Jen's gone to bed now so I'm going to finish that story if it kills me!