Nonspoilery Snapefic, anyone??
This is my very last really-quick-project-written-two-days-before-the-next-Harry-Potter-book-comes-out. Contains NO Deathly Hallows spoilers, and is dedicated to synaesthete7, who is BEING PUBLISHED!!! *cheers*
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: angst
Summary: Snape. Dumbledore. Unfinished business. No spoilers -- just a scene that's been percolating in my head for a long time.
Title:
Take It From Here
The dark man glided silently into the round room. Less than a shadow in the faint starlight filtering through the windows, he closed the door carefully behind him and slunk across the floor, avoiding a tall orrey whose polished orbs spun lazily through the cool air. Pausing momentarily to listen for variations in the faint snores that echoed from the walls, he stooped over a low cabinet, his sensitive fingers probing the latch.
Satisfied with his discovery, the dark man became for a moment completely still. Stars inched past the window-frames; the small globes still spun and other instruments ticked and whirred in the shadows. The snores continued uninterrupted.
Ten minutes passed before the dark man again bent over the cabinet. Something glinted in his hand; his lank hair swung over his face as he picked the lock by touch.
When someone took a breath behind him, he swung quickly around, leaving the lockpick loose in the keyhole as a wand seemed to materialize in his hand. Its tip blazed with sudden light, illuminating a heavy desk in the center of the room... and the bearded old man beyond it, blinking placidly in the glare, his chair tilted backwards as though he had just awoken from a long nap.
"I thought you'd come," said the old man gently.
Revealed in the light of his own wand, the intruder was rail-thin, with hollow black eyes that glared through a curtain of hair. The brief panic that had flashed through those eyes was instantly replaced by anger.
"With your kind permission, Albus," he said in a bitter, sneering tone, lowering the wand and turning back to the cabinet. Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, nodding benignly.
Along the walls, a number of animated portraits had been roused by the disturbance. From their vantage points around the room, bleary, elderly witches and wizards rubbed their eyes in disbelief (or, blushing, whipped off woolly bobble-hats and tucked them out of sight). The snoring gave way to whispering, and a shrill, matronly witch cried, "Severus Snape?" before being hushed by her immediate neighbors.
Ignoring them, Snape continued to work at the lock one-handed, holding the lit wand to one side. There were gasps of horror as the cabinet door slid open. "Really, young man," scolded a velvet-robed wizard with a white fringe and a heavy cane, "that's going entirely too far!" A fat, formidable-looking witch agreed loudly, and the room was suddenly full of calls for intervention and justice.
"Enough," said Dumbledore mildly. There was an abrupt silence. "This man is under my orders."
"Your orders -- at the dead of night?" demanded the white-haired portrait.
"Exactly," smiled Dumbledore. Nodding toward the intruder's bent back, he addressed Snape directly. "I presume that it would cause unwanted comment if you were to visit these chambers openly."
A derisive snort was the only sign that Snape had heard the exchange. Sorting swiftly through a motley collection of artifacts, he removed several items -- a glint of gold, a glimpse of tattered leather, a thin dusty box -- and stood up, stowing them swiftly about his person. "If you're all done observing me," he said curtly, and swept towards the door.
"Severus," said Dumbledore quietly.
Snape halted, his hand on the latch, but did not turn.
"You are succeeding, then."
"Yes." Snape's low voice was cold.
"He doesn't suspect?"
"I have convinced him otherwise."
The whispers started up again. Neither Snape nor Dumbledore paid them any heed.
"This is the first positive sign we've had in a long time," murmured Dumbledore at last. "I thank you for bringing it, urgent though your primary purpose is at the moment." He hesitated, seeming to choose his words carefully, and added, "I hope you will be able to come here again. But first -- have you anything else to tell me?"
Snape didn't say anything. The space between the old wizard and the young one seemed to stretch into a vast chasm, swallowing even the portraits' speculations. Then Snape turned, just a little, one fathomless eye visible between the dark strands of hair.
Several of the portraits shuddered, and the white-fringed wizard whispered, "Albus. Let us call Minerva."
Dumbledore simply met the black eye in silence, his expression one of sad understanding.
Snape extinguished his wand with a brief gesture and slipped through the door like a wraith. Behind him, in the empty office, a tear left a brief, glistening track on Dumbledore's wrinkled face as he settled back into his frame.
_____
*resists the urge to call this story "Severus Snape and the Deathly Silence" -- aren't you proud of me?*
[[Edit: title changed because an lj-cut reading "Not Done Yet" sounded like the fic wasn't finished. *facepalm*]]
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: angst
Summary: Snape. Dumbledore. Unfinished business. No spoilers -- just a scene that's been percolating in my head for a long time.
Title:
Take It From Here
The dark man glided silently into the round room. Less than a shadow in the faint starlight filtering through the windows, he closed the door carefully behind him and slunk across the floor, avoiding a tall orrey whose polished orbs spun lazily through the cool air. Pausing momentarily to listen for variations in the faint snores that echoed from the walls, he stooped over a low cabinet, his sensitive fingers probing the latch.
Satisfied with his discovery, the dark man became for a moment completely still. Stars inched past the window-frames; the small globes still spun and other instruments ticked and whirred in the shadows. The snores continued uninterrupted.
Ten minutes passed before the dark man again bent over the cabinet. Something glinted in his hand; his lank hair swung over his face as he picked the lock by touch.
When someone took a breath behind him, he swung quickly around, leaving the lockpick loose in the keyhole as a wand seemed to materialize in his hand. Its tip blazed with sudden light, illuminating a heavy desk in the center of the room... and the bearded old man beyond it, blinking placidly in the glare, his chair tilted backwards as though he had just awoken from a long nap.
"I thought you'd come," said the old man gently.
Revealed in the light of his own wand, the intruder was rail-thin, with hollow black eyes that glared through a curtain of hair. The brief panic that had flashed through those eyes was instantly replaced by anger.
"With your kind permission, Albus," he said in a bitter, sneering tone, lowering the wand and turning back to the cabinet. Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, nodding benignly.
Along the walls, a number of animated portraits had been roused by the disturbance. From their vantage points around the room, bleary, elderly witches and wizards rubbed their eyes in disbelief (or, blushing, whipped off woolly bobble-hats and tucked them out of sight). The snoring gave way to whispering, and a shrill, matronly witch cried, "Severus Snape?" before being hushed by her immediate neighbors.
Ignoring them, Snape continued to work at the lock one-handed, holding the lit wand to one side. There were gasps of horror as the cabinet door slid open. "Really, young man," scolded a velvet-robed wizard with a white fringe and a heavy cane, "that's going entirely too far!" A fat, formidable-looking witch agreed loudly, and the room was suddenly full of calls for intervention and justice.
"Enough," said Dumbledore mildly. There was an abrupt silence. "This man is under my orders."
"Your orders -- at the dead of night?" demanded the white-haired portrait.
"Exactly," smiled Dumbledore. Nodding toward the intruder's bent back, he addressed Snape directly. "I presume that it would cause unwanted comment if you were to visit these chambers openly."
A derisive snort was the only sign that Snape had heard the exchange. Sorting swiftly through a motley collection of artifacts, he removed several items -- a glint of gold, a glimpse of tattered leather, a thin dusty box -- and stood up, stowing them swiftly about his person. "If you're all done observing me," he said curtly, and swept towards the door.
"Severus," said Dumbledore quietly.
Snape halted, his hand on the latch, but did not turn.
"You are succeeding, then."
"Yes." Snape's low voice was cold.
"He doesn't suspect?"
"I have convinced him otherwise."
The whispers started up again. Neither Snape nor Dumbledore paid them any heed.
"This is the first positive sign we've had in a long time," murmured Dumbledore at last. "I thank you for bringing it, urgent though your primary purpose is at the moment." He hesitated, seeming to choose his words carefully, and added, "I hope you will be able to come here again. But first -- have you anything else to tell me?"
Snape didn't say anything. The space between the old wizard and the young one seemed to stretch into a vast chasm, swallowing even the portraits' speculations. Then Snape turned, just a little, one fathomless eye visible between the dark strands of hair.
Several of the portraits shuddered, and the white-fringed wizard whispered, "Albus. Let us call Minerva."
Dumbledore simply met the black eye in silence, his expression one of sad understanding.
Snape extinguished his wand with a brief gesture and slipped through the door like a wraith. Behind him, in the empty office, a tear left a brief, glistening track on Dumbledore's wrinkled face as he settled back into his frame.
_____
*resists the urge to call this story "Severus Snape and the Deathly Silence" -- aren't you proud of me?*
[[Edit: title changed because an lj-cut reading "Not Done Yet" sounded like the fic wasn't finished. *facepalm*]]