Title: Snape's Secret Recipient: bowdlerized Prompt: Snape/Minerva, one-upmanship Word Count: 434 Rating: G
Minerva didn't worry too much when the new Head of House gave a rousing "we are a team" in the Common Room right after the Sorting. Slytherin hadn't won the House Cup since Tom Riddle had assembled his little band of brothers, and she doubted that a misfit like Severus Snape would change that.
He didn't that first year. But the year after that, and after that, and after that….
By the time Slytherin had won its fourth straight House Cup, Minerva was seething. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had traded off the cup for decades, with the occasional group of clever Ravenclaws winning on sheer brilliance. What was Snape's secret?
She tried special coaching sessions. She held training sessions during August for the Gryffindor quidditch team, and hired an academic coach for a particularly heedless NEWT class. She left articles singing the glories of her former students about the Staff Room, from Abigil Grout's work on dolphin magic to Perkin Samsonson's groundbreaking surgical techniques. She even tried to bribe one of the Slytherin faculty to learn Snape's Secret, until Sinistra ratted her out to Snape.
Nothing worked. Year after year, Slytherin won the Cup. Year after year, the banners flying in the Great Hall were green and silver. And year after year, Minerva McGonagall sat miserably at the Leaving Feast while Severus Snape looked proud and satisfied.
Finally, in desperation, she did what she should have done all along: she took Severus out to lunch at the best restaurant in Diagon Alley, kept his wineglass full of an excellent Australian cabernet, and waited until dessert to ask the question that had been driving her mad for five years.
"So, Severus. Your Slytherins are the most ambitious little band of individualists I've ever seen. How do you get them to win the House Cup every year?"
Severus set down his fork and pressed his napkin to his lips. "Very simple. I take them aside every year and tell them that anything less than their best effort is not acceptable. If they fail, I give them a dose of gillyweed and make them scrub mussels from the Common Room windows by hand. Works wonders, especially with some of the richer purebloods."
Minerva dropped her fork and stared at him. "Mussels?"
"And then the seventh years and I have a late night supper after the lower forms have gone to bed." Severus gave her a charming smile and lifted his wine in salute. "To your health."
"Thank you." Minerva lowered her head to her hands. Was there enough guano on Gryffindor Tower to make it worth her while?
Recipient: bowdlerized
Prompt: Snape/Minerva, one-upmanship
Word Count: 434
Rating: G
Minerva didn't worry too much when the new Head of House gave a rousing "we are a team" in the Common Room right after the Sorting. Slytherin hadn't won the House Cup since Tom Riddle had assembled his little band of brothers, and she doubted that a misfit like Severus Snape would change that.
He didn't that first year. But the year after that, and after that, and after that….
By the time Slytherin had won its fourth straight House Cup, Minerva was seething. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had traded off the cup for decades, with the occasional group of clever Ravenclaws winning on sheer brilliance. What was Snape's secret?
She tried special coaching sessions. She held training sessions during August for the Gryffindor quidditch team, and hired an academic coach for a particularly heedless NEWT class. She left articles singing the glories of her former students about the Staff Room, from Abigil Grout's work on dolphin magic to Perkin Samsonson's groundbreaking surgical techniques. She even tried to bribe one of the Slytherin faculty to learn Snape's Secret, until Sinistra ratted her out to Snape.
Nothing worked. Year after year, Slytherin won the Cup. Year after year, the banners flying in the Great Hall were green and silver. And year after year, Minerva McGonagall sat miserably at the Leaving Feast while Severus Snape looked proud and satisfied.
Finally, in desperation, she did what she should have done all along: she took Severus out to lunch at the best restaurant in Diagon Alley, kept his wineglass full of an excellent Australian cabernet, and waited until dessert to ask the question that had been driving her mad for five years.
"So, Severus. Your Slytherins are the most ambitious little band of individualists I've ever seen. How do you get them to win the House Cup every year?"
Severus set down his fork and pressed his napkin to his lips. "Very simple. I take them aside every year and tell them that anything less than their best effort is not acceptable. If they fail, I give them a dose of gillyweed and make them scrub mussels from the Common Room windows by hand. Works wonders, especially with some of the richer purebloods."
Minerva dropped her fork and stared at him. "Mussels?"
"And then the seventh years and I have a late night supper after the lower forms have gone to bed." Severus gave her a charming smile and lifted his wine in salute. "To your health."
"Thank you." Minerva lowered her head to her hands. Was there enough guano on Gryffindor Tower to make it worth her while?
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