100quills fic: Dirty Snowflakes (SS/LE,G)
Title: Dirty Snowflakes
Rating: G
Prompt Set: 100.1
Prompt: 031 Snowflakes
Word Count: 1315
Summary: An unexpected explosion and a developing relationship
Warnings: No warnings, this is pretty gen
Disclaimer: This is JK’s world, I merely play in it.
In one of the abandoned classroom in the far corner of Hogwarts dungeons, a resounding boom thundered so loudly that dust was loosened from the walls, spiders were shaken out of their webs, and a first year Slytherin lost his footing and tumbled down the stairwell. Even Horace Slughorn’s beloved portraits rattled against the walls of his office, although the portly professor was too far into his latest mug of mead to pay the noise any mind. (It was very possible that he attributed the shaking to the forceful belch he’d expelled at precisely the exact moment of the explosion.) With the exception of the poor boy rubbing his twisted ankle on the grimy dungeon floor, most of Hogwarts seemed blissfully unperturbed by the explosion.
The two occupants of the abandoned classroom, however, were not quite as fortunate.
It was a strange scene to behold. Hundreds of grey cinders were lazily falling from the ceiling like snow. Some of the flakes managed to catch the draft coming in from the doorway, taking flight and dipping around the room in various patterns. Others fell directly into a simmering cauldron in the centre of the room.
A startling number of ashes landed in Severus Snape’s dark hair. Lily, whose hair was in a similar state, did her very best not to seem amused by this. It was a difficult task.
“Evans!” Severus snapped. For a moment, his face was the perfect picture of horrified shock, sharp jaw hanging slack and dark eyes as wide as galleons. This expression did not last long, though, and soon mutated into a narrow-eyed, thin-lipped frown.
Lily closed her eyes, preparing for the worst. Severus only called her by her surname when they were in mixed company or if he was cross with her. “Severus,” she began with an air of determination, “I did exactly what we discussed.” She had no intention of allowing herself to take the blame for this particular incident. “I added seven lacewing flies, stirred once, and then…” She drifted off and shrugged her shoulders. “Boom.”
“Boom?” he repeated dryly. The number of lines in his forehead significantly decreased and he shook his head.
“You might have warned me it had the potential to be volatile.”
“You added seven lacewing flies,” he pointed out. “You are aware that seven is a fickle number?”
Lily combed her hair back with her fingers, releasing a few more cinders into the air. She disliked it when he took that sort of tone with her. “Yes,” she began with a sigh, “well, I wasn’t expecting an explosion.”
“I was hoping there wouldn’t be an explosion.” He bent over and drew a line through something he’d written in the margins of his book, adding a few more notes underneath. “Pity.”
She gave him a look. “That’s easy for you to say.” Her eyes crossed in attempt to look at her fringe. “Are my eyebrows still there?”
He snorted, surveying her appearance. “Yes.”
“Good,” she sighed. Discounting the ashes that were still dancing around the room, it seemed as though everything was still in one peace. It was a small comfort, especially since they’d been tweaking the babbling brew for nearly a month. After tonight’s incident, they would have to start all over from the beginning. Actually, Lily found it a little disconcerting that Severus was taking it so well.
She decided to say as much.
The corners of his mouth curled up into a smirk. “I was thinking that we might be able to rework this into a different kind of potion entirely. Something combustible.”
“Combustible?”
“Mm-hmm.” His eyes were glittering.
“Why do I have a distinctly bad feeling about your intentions?”
“Because you, Evans, are a Gryffindor.”
“Oh,” she said, rolling her eyes, “right.” It was hard to miss the scathing note in his voice. Severus never separated the world into black and white when they were together, opting for a more colourful red and green alternative. With him, it was always the righteous Gryffindors against the devious Slytherins, and no matter how sneaky or immoral she acted, he had her far outstripped.
Lily turned away from Snape so that she could inspect what little of the babbling brew was left in the cauldron. The bluish liquid simmered quietly, pushing around the cinders floating on its surface. She dipped her ladle in and lifted out a sample of the potion. Carefully, she tipped it to the side, releasing some of the solution so that she could examine its consistency.
“And how exactly do you plan on making this into a bomb?” she asked.
“Is that what you think?” he replied, sounding amused.
She heard his footsteps approaching, but didn’t turn to look at him, more intent on evaluating the properties of the potion. “It’s an educated guess.” She knew Snape liked to experiment with things, and a good majority of those things were destructive…brilliant, but destructive. He was a difficult person to read, admittedly, but she felt fairly certain that she had the right idea.
He inhaled the vapours rising around them, nostrils flaring. “What would you do?” he asked. “Give up? Write off the experiment as a failure and declare our findings rubbish?”
Lily considered this, and finally shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, it definitely had a concrete product.” She turned towards him and silently looked him over. He had cinder flakes stuck in his hair, resting on his shoulders, and sprinkled down his school robes. His mussed appearance was strangely endearing. It made him look less petulant, anyway.
He arched an eyebrow, looking sceptical, and folded his arms across his chest. “And that would be?”
“Dirty snowflakes,” she quipped, struggling to keep back the laughter that had been threatening to come out since the explosion first occurred. It was the only thing that she could think of, ridiculous as it was. It really had seemed as though they were inside of a grey snow flurry, and the cinders in Severus’s hair reminded her of snowflakes refusing to melt.
Whatever Severus had been expecting, it most certainly wasn’t that. A crease formed between his thick brows. “Dirty snowflakes?” he repeated, voice rising with incredulity.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “Honestly, though, I can’t imagine what their purpose would be.” She waved an arm around at the room, gesturing to the ashes that were slowly settling, coating the floor in a thin layer.
Severus blinked at her in bemusement. Lily thought it looked as though he was finding it quite difficult to articulate his thoughts. Finally, he cleared his throat.
“Snowflakes,” he grunted.
“Hm?”
“Snowflakes,” he repeated, a little louder. “Here we’ve created something that has the potential to be a powerful tool for distraction--defence, even--and you’re focusing on snowflakes.”
“Dirty snowflakes,” she corrected him with a grin. It always pleased Lily when an opportunity to take the mickey out of Severus presented itself. On impulse, she reached out and brushed a few cinders out of his fringe, watching them as they floated to the floor. Severus remained silent, but she sensed the rigidity of his body when she touched him. His social awkwardness placed them on the equal ground; he could make her feel like a failure with a few terse words, and she could render him useless with a simple gesture. It was something she had recently discovered, and now she decided to use it to her advantage.
She dropped her arm to her side and shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s a charming effect, don’t you think?”
He licked his lips and lowered his gaze. “You don’t really want to know what I think.” He began to brush off the cinders from his uniform, shaking everything off until he was clean.
“You’re right,” she snorted, “I don’t.”
Still, she found herself wanting to cause more dirty snowflakes to fall, if only for the opportunity to touch him again.
Rating: G
Prompt Set: 100.1
Prompt: 031 Snowflakes
Word Count: 1315
Summary: An unexpected explosion and a developing relationship
Warnings: No warnings, this is pretty gen
Disclaimer: This is JK’s world, I merely play in it.
In one of the abandoned classroom in the far corner of Hogwarts dungeons, a resounding boom thundered so loudly that dust was loosened from the walls, spiders were shaken out of their webs, and a first year Slytherin lost his footing and tumbled down the stairwell. Even Horace Slughorn’s beloved portraits rattled against the walls of his office, although the portly professor was too far into his latest mug of mead to pay the noise any mind. (It was very possible that he attributed the shaking to the forceful belch he’d expelled at precisely the exact moment of the explosion.) With the exception of the poor boy rubbing his twisted ankle on the grimy dungeon floor, most of Hogwarts seemed blissfully unperturbed by the explosion.
The two occupants of the abandoned classroom, however, were not quite as fortunate.
It was a strange scene to behold. Hundreds of grey cinders were lazily falling from the ceiling like snow. Some of the flakes managed to catch the draft coming in from the doorway, taking flight and dipping around the room in various patterns. Others fell directly into a simmering cauldron in the centre of the room.
A startling number of ashes landed in Severus Snape’s dark hair. Lily, whose hair was in a similar state, did her very best not to seem amused by this. It was a difficult task.
“Evans!” Severus snapped. For a moment, his face was the perfect picture of horrified shock, sharp jaw hanging slack and dark eyes as wide as galleons. This expression did not last long, though, and soon mutated into a narrow-eyed, thin-lipped frown.
Lily closed her eyes, preparing for the worst. Severus only called her by her surname when they were in mixed company or if he was cross with her. “Severus,” she began with an air of determination, “I did exactly what we discussed.” She had no intention of allowing herself to take the blame for this particular incident. “I added seven lacewing flies, stirred once, and then…” She drifted off and shrugged her shoulders. “Boom.”
“Boom?” he repeated dryly. The number of lines in his forehead significantly decreased and he shook his head.
“You might have warned me it had the potential to be volatile.”
“You added seven lacewing flies,” he pointed out. “You are aware that seven is a fickle number?”
Lily combed her hair back with her fingers, releasing a few more cinders into the air. She disliked it when he took that sort of tone with her. “Yes,” she began with a sigh, “well, I wasn’t expecting an explosion.”
“I was hoping there wouldn’t be an explosion.” He bent over and drew a line through something he’d written in the margins of his book, adding a few more notes underneath. “Pity.”
She gave him a look. “That’s easy for you to say.” Her eyes crossed in attempt to look at her fringe. “Are my eyebrows still there?”
He snorted, surveying her appearance. “Yes.”
“Good,” she sighed. Discounting the ashes that were still dancing around the room, it seemed as though everything was still in one peace. It was a small comfort, especially since they’d been tweaking the babbling brew for nearly a month. After tonight’s incident, they would have to start all over from the beginning. Actually, Lily found it a little disconcerting that Severus was taking it so well.
She decided to say as much.
The corners of his mouth curled up into a smirk. “I was thinking that we might be able to rework this into a different kind of potion entirely. Something combustible.”
“Combustible?”
“Mm-hmm.” His eyes were glittering.
“Why do I have a distinctly bad feeling about your intentions?”
“Because you, Evans, are a Gryffindor.”
“Oh,” she said, rolling her eyes, “right.” It was hard to miss the scathing note in his voice. Severus never separated the world into black and white when they were together, opting for a more colourful red and green alternative. With him, it was always the righteous Gryffindors against the devious Slytherins, and no matter how sneaky or immoral she acted, he had her far outstripped.
Lily turned away from Snape so that she could inspect what little of the babbling brew was left in the cauldron. The bluish liquid simmered quietly, pushing around the cinders floating on its surface. She dipped her ladle in and lifted out a sample of the potion. Carefully, she tipped it to the side, releasing some of the solution so that she could examine its consistency.
“And how exactly do you plan on making this into a bomb?” she asked.
“Is that what you think?” he replied, sounding amused.
She heard his footsteps approaching, but didn’t turn to look at him, more intent on evaluating the properties of the potion. “It’s an educated guess.” She knew Snape liked to experiment with things, and a good majority of those things were destructive…brilliant, but destructive. He was a difficult person to read, admittedly, but she felt fairly certain that she had the right idea.
He inhaled the vapours rising around them, nostrils flaring. “What would you do?” he asked. “Give up? Write off the experiment as a failure and declare our findings rubbish?”
Lily considered this, and finally shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, it definitely had a concrete product.” She turned towards him and silently looked him over. He had cinder flakes stuck in his hair, resting on his shoulders, and sprinkled down his school robes. His mussed appearance was strangely endearing. It made him look less petulant, anyway.
He arched an eyebrow, looking sceptical, and folded his arms across his chest. “And that would be?”
“Dirty snowflakes,” she quipped, struggling to keep back the laughter that had been threatening to come out since the explosion first occurred. It was the only thing that she could think of, ridiculous as it was. It really had seemed as though they were inside of a grey snow flurry, and the cinders in Severus’s hair reminded her of snowflakes refusing to melt.
Whatever Severus had been expecting, it most certainly wasn’t that. A crease formed between his thick brows. “Dirty snowflakes?” he repeated, voice rising with incredulity.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “Honestly, though, I can’t imagine what their purpose would be.” She waved an arm around at the room, gesturing to the ashes that were slowly settling, coating the floor in a thin layer.
Severus blinked at her in bemusement. Lily thought it looked as though he was finding it quite difficult to articulate his thoughts. Finally, he cleared his throat.
“Snowflakes,” he grunted.
“Hm?”
“Snowflakes,” he repeated, a little louder. “Here we’ve created something that has the potential to be a powerful tool for distraction--defence, even--and you’re focusing on snowflakes.”
“Dirty snowflakes,” she corrected him with a grin. It always pleased Lily when an opportunity to take the mickey out of Severus presented itself. On impulse, she reached out and brushed a few cinders out of his fringe, watching them as they floated to the floor. Severus remained silent, but she sensed the rigidity of his body when she touched him. His social awkwardness placed them on the equal ground; he could make her feel like a failure with a few terse words, and she could render him useless with a simple gesture. It was something she had recently discovered, and now she decided to use it to her advantage.
She dropped her arm to her side and shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s a charming effect, don’t you think?”
He licked his lips and lowered his gaze. “You don’t really want to know what I think.” He began to brush off the cinders from his uniform, shaking everything off until he was clean.
“You’re right,” she snorted, “I don’t.”
Still, she found herself wanting to cause more dirty snowflakes to fall, if only for the opportunity to touch him again.