Warlock Light
Title: Warlock Light
Team: The Order
Rating: M (one bad word)
Warnings: Drugs are mentioned
Challenge: Addiction
Word Count: 6x100
A/N: She appears under the cut ;-)
Severus stands outside the staffroom door to the grounds and takes a long, last puff on his Warlock Light. The morning sunshine eases the stiffness in his joints and the feeling is good. He’s got seven minutes to spare before strolling to his classroom for the first lesson of the day. Unwilling to enter the gloom of the castle, he flicks the butt into a nearby flower pot with unerring accuracy and carefully extracts another victim out of the packet in his left hand.
Wedging the filter between thin lips, Severus touches the other end with his wand and sucks.
“That’s really bad for you, you know,” a cheerfully smug voice pipes across the lawn.
“You’re late,” replies Severus without turning to face the voice.
“Not yet, I’m not. It takes a minute to check my owl-hole for post and it’s only a two minute walk to my classroom.”
Severus feels strangely honoured that somebody else measures out their morning as precisely as him.
“I quit a couple of years ago. I’m so glad I did.”
“Bully for you,” growls Severus as he exhales blue-grey smoke by the bucketful.
“It was the last thing I gave up. And the hardest.”
She’s managed to snaffle his full attention again.
“The last thing?”
“Oh, yes. Survivor’s guilt and all that,” she says lightly.
Severus gestures with his Warlock Light that she should continue.
“Ronald and I tried all sorts of interesting ways of reducing our lifespans. Have you ever had sex while on ecstasy? I think that was the most entertaining part of it.”
Severus coughs violently. He swallows the resulting mucus with a grimace.
“When neither of us could look the other in the face when we were straight, I realised I’d had enough.”
Hermione meets his stare with a smile.
The moon is almost full and the cold light shimmers prettily on the lake. Severus leans against the balustrade outside the front doors of Hogwarts and thinks that the hardest cigarette to give up would be the one after dinner.
“Carrot sticks,” she murmurs, resting her rear end next to his.
She smells nice. Severus wonders if the scent would be clearer in the absence of nicotine and tar.
“I beg your pardon?” he replies.
“Every time you want a cigarette, you munch on carrot sticks until you’ve thought of something else to do.”
Severus inhales deeply. He likes carrot.
Never have so many points been taken from so many so quickly during History of Magic.
Severus slams the door of his classroom with a flick of his wand and reaches into his pocket.
He crunches industriously until his whole mouth is filled to bursting point with root vegetable and then slowly masticates while exhaling and counting back from ten.
Bloody, fucking murder will happen if he doesn’t have a ciggie soon.
A knock on the door is swiftly followed by the entrance of Hermione.
She sees his hamster cheeks and martyred expression.
“It gets better.”
Her scent is clearer.
Three weeks have passed, and Severus has learned how to carve things out of carrot.
He finds her in the library, long after the students have gone to bed.
“Until I think of something else to do,” he says, presenting Hermione with an orange rose.
Her smile is luminous as she lifts the rose to her nose and sniffs delicately.
“Not a hint of smoke,” she murmurs, sliding her free hand into his hair.
As their knees buckle and they kiss, and kiss, and kiss, it occurs to Severus that he has simply traded one form of addiction for another.
The End
Team: The Order
Rating: M (one bad word)
Warnings: Drugs are mentioned
Challenge: Addiction
Word Count: 6x100
A/N: She appears under the cut ;-)
Severus stands outside the staffroom door to the grounds and takes a long, last puff on his Warlock Light. The morning sunshine eases the stiffness in his joints and the feeling is good. He’s got seven minutes to spare before strolling to his classroom for the first lesson of the day. Unwilling to enter the gloom of the castle, he flicks the butt into a nearby flower pot with unerring accuracy and carefully extracts another victim out of the packet in his left hand.
Wedging the filter between thin lips, Severus touches the other end with his wand and sucks.
“That’s really bad for you, you know,” a cheerfully smug voice pipes across the lawn.
“You’re late,” replies Severus without turning to face the voice.
“Not yet, I’m not. It takes a minute to check my owl-hole for post and it’s only a two minute walk to my classroom.”
Severus feels strangely honoured that somebody else measures out their morning as precisely as him.
“I quit a couple of years ago. I’m so glad I did.”
“Bully for you,” growls Severus as he exhales blue-grey smoke by the bucketful.
“It was the last thing I gave up. And the hardest.”
She’s managed to snaffle his full attention again.
“The last thing?”
“Oh, yes. Survivor’s guilt and all that,” she says lightly.
Severus gestures with his Warlock Light that she should continue.
“Ronald and I tried all sorts of interesting ways of reducing our lifespans. Have you ever had sex while on ecstasy? I think that was the most entertaining part of it.”
Severus coughs violently. He swallows the resulting mucus with a grimace.
“When neither of us could look the other in the face when we were straight, I realised I’d had enough.”
Hermione meets his stare with a smile.
The moon is almost full and the cold light shimmers prettily on the lake. Severus leans against the balustrade outside the front doors of Hogwarts and thinks that the hardest cigarette to give up would be the one after dinner.
“Carrot sticks,” she murmurs, resting her rear end next to his.
She smells nice. Severus wonders if the scent would be clearer in the absence of nicotine and tar.
“I beg your pardon?” he replies.
“Every time you want a cigarette, you munch on carrot sticks until you’ve thought of something else to do.”
Severus inhales deeply. He likes carrot.
Never have so many points been taken from so many so quickly during History of Magic.
Severus slams the door of his classroom with a flick of his wand and reaches into his pocket.
He crunches industriously until his whole mouth is filled to bursting point with root vegetable and then slowly masticates while exhaling and counting back from ten.
Bloody, fucking murder will happen if he doesn’t have a ciggie soon.
A knock on the door is swiftly followed by the entrance of Hermione.
She sees his hamster cheeks and martyred expression.
“It gets better.”
Her scent is clearer.
Three weeks have passed, and Severus has learned how to carve things out of carrot.
He finds her in the library, long after the students have gone to bed.
“Until I think of something else to do,” he says, presenting Hermione with an orange rose.
Her smile is luminous as she lifts the rose to her nose and sniffs delicately.
“Not a hint of smoke,” she murmurs, sliding her free hand into his hair.
As their knees buckle and they kiss, and kiss, and kiss, it occurs to Severus that he has simply traded one form of addiction for another.
The End