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salsify, who bestowed on me Darkness, Rapture, and the Danube. (And yes, half of the fun of BPAL is getting to write sentences like that. *g*)
Five drabbles; 100 words each; her prompts were "Snape," "head cold," and "hopefulness."
Snape wasn't sure which was making his headache worse-- the infernal racket from the residents of the flat below his, or the insipid conclusions some imbecile had managed to con the editors of Twenty-first Century Potions into publishing. However, drafting a response to the article was out of the question until he managed to shake the cold currently clogging his nostrils and gumming up his throat. It was something that, prior to the fall of Voldemort, a simple Pepperup Potion would have dispelled from his system, but being revived from near-death had somehow disrupted his body's reactions to basic potions.
* * *
As darkness fell, Snape stared morosely at his fireplace, feeling no warmth from the flames crackling merrily upon the antique grate. Most of the time, he enjoyed the new flat-- it had been recently built and was well-maintained, and it didn't crowd him with memories of unsought Unbreakable Vows or unhappy parents. The clothes in the wardrobe all fit him in both size and gender, and his pension from the Ministry was sizable (as Shacklebolt put it, it was intended not only as a reward for services rendered, but as an incentive for problematic heroes to keep out of sight).
* * *
Yes, he normally found the flat suitable enough for his needs, but he nevertheless sometimes dreamed of travelling to the Danube, the Vltava, the Gaula, the Spercheios, and other rivers, the better to obtain samples of their waters for more advanced experiments. The pension wasn't that generous, however-- the near-death business had also compromised his ability to Apparate, and he wasn't fool enough to Floo anywhere, not when there were plenty of wizards who would never forgive him for the deaths he hadn't been able to prevent. If someone wanted to kill him, they would have to come to him.
* * *
As the clock struck eleven, Snape grouchily reflected that the only thing worse than waiting out a head cold was waiting out a head cold with a hard-on. He'd dosed himself with a hot toddy, which had been flavourless upon his muted tastebuds but nevertheless produced the desired effect of drugging him enough to doze off. However, he'd then dreamt of Remus Lupin-- of deep, delicious kisses, and hard, hungry ones that made him dizzy with their demands, and how a single, simple, silent look between them so often led to rapture-thickened groans and moans as they ravished each other.
* * *
Lupin hadn't been due back for another week, so Snape had trained his wand on the door the instant he heard the key in its lock. Lupin's reaction was a wry smile and a brief "Negotiations fell apart. There was no sense in staying longer."
"But you'll be going back?"
"Well, yes, once the Ministry gives me more to offer."
Snape rolled his eyes. "That will be a wait."
"So hopeful, you are," Lupin dryly observed. "Alas, I think you're right."
"Now that you're here, hope can go hang," Snape mumbled.
"Why, Severus--" Lupin smiled, and pulled Snape close.
salsify, who bestowed on me Darkness, Rapture, and the Danube. (And yes, half of the fun of BPAL is getting to write sentences like that. *g*)Five drabbles; 100 words each; her prompts were "Snape," "head cold," and "hopefulness."
Snape wasn't sure which was making his headache worse-- the infernal racket from the residents of the flat below his, or the insipid conclusions some imbecile had managed to con the editors of Twenty-first Century Potions into publishing. However, drafting a response to the article was out of the question until he managed to shake the cold currently clogging his nostrils and gumming up his throat. It was something that, prior to the fall of Voldemort, a simple Pepperup Potion would have dispelled from his system, but being revived from near-death had somehow disrupted his body's reactions to basic potions.
* * *
As darkness fell, Snape stared morosely at his fireplace, feeling no warmth from the flames crackling merrily upon the antique grate. Most of the time, he enjoyed the new flat-- it had been recently built and was well-maintained, and it didn't crowd him with memories of unsought Unbreakable Vows or unhappy parents. The clothes in the wardrobe all fit him in both size and gender, and his pension from the Ministry was sizable (as Shacklebolt put it, it was intended not only as a reward for services rendered, but as an incentive for problematic heroes to keep out of sight).
* * *
Yes, he normally found the flat suitable enough for his needs, but he nevertheless sometimes dreamed of travelling to the Danube, the Vltava, the Gaula, the Spercheios, and other rivers, the better to obtain samples of their waters for more advanced experiments. The pension wasn't that generous, however-- the near-death business had also compromised his ability to Apparate, and he wasn't fool enough to Floo anywhere, not when there were plenty of wizards who would never forgive him for the deaths he hadn't been able to prevent. If someone wanted to kill him, they would have to come to him.
* * *
As the clock struck eleven, Snape grouchily reflected that the only thing worse than waiting out a head cold was waiting out a head cold with a hard-on. He'd dosed himself with a hot toddy, which had been flavourless upon his muted tastebuds but nevertheless produced the desired effect of drugging him enough to doze off. However, he'd then dreamt of Remus Lupin-- of deep, delicious kisses, and hard, hungry ones that made him dizzy with their demands, and how a single, simple, silent look between them so often led to rapture-thickened groans and moans as they ravished each other.
* * *
Lupin hadn't been due back for another week, so Snape had trained his wand on the door the instant he heard the key in its lock. Lupin's reaction was a wry smile and a brief "Negotiations fell apart. There was no sense in staying longer."
"But you'll be going back?"
"Well, yes, once the Ministry gives me more to offer."
Snape rolled his eyes. "That will be a wait."
"So hopeful, you are," Lupin dryly observed. "Alas, I think you're right."
"Now that you're here, hope can go hang," Snape mumbled.
"Why, Severus--" Lupin smiled, and pulled Snape close.
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