Learning to Live - The Perils of Technology
Fandom - Harry Potter
Pairing- Snape/Harry
Rating - PG 13
Summary - Snape goes up against his deadliest enemy yet - Muggle Technology!
Word Count - 1060
Disclaimer - Characters belong to the fabulous JK Rowling, I own nothing.
I'll keep you my Dirty Little Secret…"
Severus Snape's admittedly large, hooked nose peered over his Potions Quarterly. After a long discussion with Potter that had somehow ended up in the bedroom, the boy had been persuaded (threatened) to go and mess around with his broom. The Firebolt, not his other broom. No, only Snape got to mess around with that.
So Snape had settled down on his comfy chair and proceeded to avidly devour each page of the fascinating (for him) book. Until he had been interrupted. Again. Bit this time it was not that bloody Gryffindor. But this interruption was surely linked to Potter in someway and therefore the boy's fault. Snape would stake his reputation as The King of Snark (which he was very proud of, thank you very much. No one else on the staff had made Longbottom cry as many times as he had. Not even close!)
Perhaps it was not fair to blame it all on the brat. But Snape was not a just man. Besides, it was Potter's fault most of the time anyway. You could hardly blame Snape for playing the odds. Snape was wrenched out of his thoughts by the Mysterious Noise (Yes, it deserves capital letters!) again.
"You are the only one that needs to know…."
Ah ha! It was music. Music? Why was there music in his dungeons? It was not even Slytherin music (which is dreary and grim, similar to the funeral march) but it was sock music! No, wait, sock wasn't right. Lock? Tock? Mock? Rock? Yes! That was it! It was rock music! Snape dragged his wandering mind back to the present problem.
Why was there rock music playing in his dungeons? And more importantly, where in the name of Salazar was it coming from? Snape got up with a dignified flourish, gently placed his beloved (to him, anyway) Potions Quarterly down on the table and pulled out his wand. Right. Now to go look for the Mysterious Noise. Severus Snape, ex-Deatheater, ex-double agent for the Order, teacher of Neville Longbottom and partner of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Refuses To Die and Lives To Piss Me Off was just the man for the job.
He cautiously moved in direction of the kitchen. The Mysterious Noise died down. The source of the Mysterious Noise was obviously not in the kitchen. He tried his potions lab and the bathroom which turned up similar results. Only one place left to check. The bedroom.
"Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret….."
Silently passing through the bedroom door, Snape soon discovered the location of the source of the Mysterious Noise. There it was, all innocent-like, half-buried under a pair of pants. It was a white metallic device, decidedly Muggle looking, small enough to fit into your palm and it was connected to two white snaky lines that ended in strange shaped knobs.
Snape didn't know what it was. Ignorance may be bliss but knowledge is power. And Snape was more of a powerful man than an ignorant man. So he trained his wand on it and quickly ran down a list of appropriate hexes on his mind.
"Hey, Sev! I'm back from fooling around with my broom! Are you done with your boring book yet? Cause I was thinking that maybe we could…Sev, what are you doing?"
Potter stood framed in the doorway, his skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat, his hair sticking up in all directions, his bright green eyes shining with curiousity.
"Um, Sev? What are you pointing your wand at?"
"Shush, Potter."
"Sev, are you pointing your wand at my Ipod? You are! Sev! Are you listening to me? SEVERUS SNAPE! DON'T YOU DARE CURSE MY IPOD!"
hpsshpsshpsshpsshpsshpsshpsshpsshpsshpsshpss
Harry Potter woke up early on a Sunday. He rolled over; expecting to feel a warm body against his but encountered a cold pillow instead. That's strange. It was Sunday. Snape never got up early on Sundays. The first time Harry had tried to wake him up, the irate man had muttered, "Crucio" and merely gone back to sleep.
So Harry let the Potions Master sleep in on Sundays. It made him sweet and pleasant to be around with. Harry snorted. Snape sweet and pleasant? Less cranky would be a better phrase to use.
Having brushed his teeth and dressed, Harry made his way to the living room. He thought maybe he could go down to visit Hagrid, after a little breakfast. And then he could go for a walk around Hogsmeade. He needed his Ipod if he was going to venture alone along the snow laden streets of Britain's only wizarding village. Now where was it?
Ah. It came back to him. Returning from flying on his broom, to find Snape with his wand on his Ipod. Like it was going o hurt him. Harry loved the man to death but he did have a tendency to overdramatisize things. Still, after he had calmed Snape down, they had proceeded to go to bed. They hadn't done a lot of sleeping, mind you, but that was neither here nor there. Where was his Ipod? Maybe Snape knew.
"Sev? Have you seen my Ipod? It's the dangerous object you were almost going to curse yesterday."
Snape didn't appear to hear him, so engrossed was he in the Daily Prophet.
"Sev, why are you reading that? It's a bunch of crap and you know it."
Still no reply. Harry was growing worried now.
"Sev, can you hear me? Why aren't you saying anything?"
Now very concerned, Harry marched up to the Potion's master and shook his shoulders violently.
"Sev, what is the matter with you? Is that my Ipod? Are you listening to my Ipod?
Pairing- Snape/Harry
Rating - PG 13
Summary - Snape goes up against his deadliest enemy yet - Muggle Technology!
Word Count - 1060
Disclaimer - Characters belong to the fabulous JK Rowling, I own nothing.
I'll keep you my Dirty Little Secret…"
Severus Snape's admittedly large, hooked nose peered over his Potions Quarterly. After a long discussion with Potter that had somehow ended up in the bedroom, the boy had been persuaded (threatened) to go and mess around with his broom. The Firebolt, not his other broom. No, only Snape got to mess around with that.
So Snape had settled down on his comfy chair and proceeded to avidly devour each page of the fascinating (for him) book. Until he had been interrupted. Again. Bit this time it was not that bloody Gryffindor. But this interruption was surely linked to Potter in someway and therefore the boy's fault. Snape would stake his reputation as The King of Snark (which he was very proud of, thank you very much. No one else on the staff had made Longbottom cry as many times as he had. Not even close!)
Perhaps it was not fair to blame it all on the brat. But Snape was not a just man. Besides, it was Potter's fault most of the time anyway. You could hardly blame Snape for playing the odds. Snape was wrenched out of his thoughts by the Mysterious Noise (Yes, it deserves capital letters!) again.
"You are the only one that needs to know…."
Ah ha! It was music. Music? Why was there music in his dungeons? It was not even Slytherin music (which is dreary and grim, similar to the funeral march) but it was sock music! No, wait, sock wasn't right. Lock? Tock? Mock? Rock? Yes! That was it! It was rock music! Snape dragged his wandering mind back to the present problem.
Why was there rock music playing in his dungeons? And more importantly, where in the name of Salazar was it coming from? Snape got up with a dignified flourish, gently placed his beloved (to him, anyway) Potions Quarterly down on the table and pulled out his wand. Right. Now to go look for the Mysterious Noise. Severus Snape, ex-Deatheater, ex-double agent for the Order, teacher of Neville Longbottom and partner of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Refuses To Die and Lives To Piss Me Off was just the man for the job.
He cautiously moved in direction of the kitchen. The Mysterious Noise died down. The source of the Mysterious Noise was obviously not in the kitchen. He tried his potions lab and the bathroom which turned up similar results. Only one place left to check. The bedroom.
"Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret….."
Silently passing through the bedroom door, Snape soon discovered the location of the source of the Mysterious Noise. There it was, all innocent-like, half-buried under a pair of pants. It was a white metallic device, decidedly Muggle looking, small enough to fit into your palm and it was connected to two white snaky lines that ended in strange shaped knobs.
Snape didn't know what it was. Ignorance may be bliss but knowledge is power. And Snape was more of a powerful man than an ignorant man. So he trained his wand on it and quickly ran down a list of appropriate hexes on his mind.
"Hey, Sev! I'm back from fooling around with my broom! Are you done with your boring book yet? Cause I was thinking that maybe we could…Sev, what are you doing?"
Potter stood framed in the doorway, his skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat, his hair sticking up in all directions, his bright green eyes shining with curiousity.
"Um, Sev? What are you pointing your wand at?"
"Shush, Potter."
"Sev, are you pointing your wand at my Ipod? You are! Sev! Are you listening to me? SEVERUS SNAPE! DON'T YOU DARE CURSE MY IPOD!"
hpsshpsshpsshpsshpsshpsshpsshpsshpsshpsshpss
Harry Potter woke up early on a Sunday. He rolled over; expecting to feel a warm body against his but encountered a cold pillow instead. That's strange. It was Sunday. Snape never got up early on Sundays. The first time Harry had tried to wake him up, the irate man had muttered, "Crucio" and merely gone back to sleep.
So Harry let the Potions Master sleep in on Sundays. It made him sweet and pleasant to be around with. Harry snorted. Snape sweet and pleasant? Less cranky would be a better phrase to use.
Having brushed his teeth and dressed, Harry made his way to the living room. He thought maybe he could go down to visit Hagrid, after a little breakfast. And then he could go for a walk around Hogsmeade. He needed his Ipod if he was going to venture alone along the snow laden streets of Britain's only wizarding village. Now where was it?
Ah. It came back to him. Returning from flying on his broom, to find Snape with his wand on his Ipod. Like it was going o hurt him. Harry loved the man to death but he did have a tendency to overdramatisize things. Still, after he had calmed Snape down, they had proceeded to go to bed. They hadn't done a lot of sleeping, mind you, but that was neither here nor there. Where was his Ipod? Maybe Snape knew.
"Sev? Have you seen my Ipod? It's the dangerous object you were almost going to curse yesterday."
Snape didn't appear to hear him, so engrossed was he in the Daily Prophet.
"Sev, why are you reading that? It's a bunch of crap and you know it."
Still no reply. Harry was growing worried now.
"Sev, can you hear me? Why aren't you saying anything?"
Now very concerned, Harry marched up to the Potion's master and shook his shoulders violently.
"Sev, what is the matter with you? Is that my Ipod? Are you listening to my Ipod?