A Plague of Flies
Challenge #344: The Four Seasons: Summer
Title: A Plague of Flies
Author: bluestocking79
Rating: PG
Word Count: 100 x 2
Note: Set in 1976, just after the end of Snape's fifth year, but inspired by the small glimpse Harry had of his memories in OotP.
Summer had invaded Spinner's End, and with it had come the flies.
Hot, foetid dampness, redolent of filthy river and sweaty bodies, had seeped in through every crack, suffocating the house with soupy, stale air. This was especially true where Severus lounged on his bed, hidden up in his small, dark room under the eaves and resentfully silent, lest he awaken Toby and his hangover. The humidity made his hair, sheets and book pages wilt, clinging to his skin with clammy tenacity, and he'd finally abandoned reading for glaring at the ceiling.
And the flies, naturally. There were always flies.
There was no escaping them; they thrived in this weather. Their buzzing polluted every second of the day, setting Severus's crooked teeth on edge and making his skin crawl. The sound nagged at him like the contemptuous current of Potter and Black's endless taunts-like the pitiless self-doubt that wouldn't be silenced-like the weight of Lily's unfriendly, unforgiving glare…
He raised his wand suddenly, sharply, intention and silent incantation fusing in a green bolt of hate that zapped one pest into non-existence. Adrenaline surged through Severus's chest, half-sick and half-satisfied.
At least he could get rid of the flies.
Title: A Plague of Flies
Author: bluestocking79
Rating: PG
Word Count: 100 x 2
Note: Set in 1976, just after the end of Snape's fifth year, but inspired by the small glimpse Harry had of his memories in OotP.
Summer had invaded Spinner's End, and with it had come the flies.
Hot, foetid dampness, redolent of filthy river and sweaty bodies, had seeped in through every crack, suffocating the house with soupy, stale air. This was especially true where Severus lounged on his bed, hidden up in his small, dark room under the eaves and resentfully silent, lest he awaken Toby and his hangover. The humidity made his hair, sheets and book pages wilt, clinging to his skin with clammy tenacity, and he'd finally abandoned reading for glaring at the ceiling.
And the flies, naturally. There were always flies.
There was no escaping them; they thrived in this weather. Their buzzing polluted every second of the day, setting Severus's crooked teeth on edge and making his skin crawl. The sound nagged at him like the contemptuous current of Potter and Black's endless taunts-like the pitiless self-doubt that wouldn't be silenced-like the weight of Lily's unfriendly, unforgiving glare…
He raised his wand suddenly, sharply, intention and silent incantation fusing in a green bolt of hate that zapped one pest into non-existence. Adrenaline surged through Severus's chest, half-sick and half-satisfied.
At least he could get rid of the flies.