Pillow Book, Total War, and Overnight Detention (three drabbles)~~ ~~
by Leni Jess
Author’s note These drabbles (one of 100 words, two of 500 words) were written for the deceased Yahoo Snarry list After Class, for its 25th Word Special Dictionary Drabble celebration, in September 2003, post-OotP.
I'd never imagined myself writing Snarry (boy, have things changed), but I got competetive (and haven’t looked back since). Then, as I shuffled words into compatible groups and thought about what those groupings suggested, I became perversely ambitious: why not try for a 100-word drabble rather than a 500-word one? I don't think I stretched the licence to use altered forms of the words too far.
Snape’s ulterior motive peeved Harry, but this chance to reinstate Quidditch practice was too opportune; he wouldn’t gainsay him.
The room was spare, but hardly bleak, embellished with strange little pictures – ‘Ukiyo-e,’ Snape murmured, then, 'jejune!’ when Harry shrugged.
The music wailed, and he zestfully retorted, 'Mahler’s Lied, the Drunkard in Spring – nihilistic bastard, anticipating death!’
The pillow book Snape displayed with his arsenal of toys made Harry feel a voyeur: ladies in shortened kiminos fellating men heroically equipped. He luxuriated in the tremor of anticipation as Snape compelled him to quaff the unidentifiable potion, and yielded to the manacles.
Arms folded in his robe's kimino sleeves, Severus considered the zest with which Mr Potter had written his condemnation of the use of Veritaserum by private persons, and the official failure to use it to test suspects' guilt or innocence. Thinking of his godfather, probably.
Snape considered he had a point, when he remembered his own schooldays and what that puppy had attempted. Black might have ended in Azkaban five years earlier, with much trouble avoided.
Or maybe he was thinking of Umbridge. If so, Potter should be more grateful for his own refusal to help her force him to quaff the potion. Kindness or mercy had not moved him; Potter had known too much, however inappropriately, to spill his soul to that nihilistic lackey seeking ever more power with a witless Minister of Magic.
He considered the possible ulterior motives of the jejune brat facing him. There was more than history in this identifiably provocative opposition to his supposed (never known!) views.
Potter and he had not been quite so much at odds lately, since he had reinstated the Occlumency lessons. The boy had made heroic efforts not to yield to his mental invasions. Nowadays Severus had few chances to play the voyeur in his mind.
Potter, however, appeared to luxuriate in compelling him to display his memories.
Perhaps he should resort to alternatives to discompose Potter, whose enthusiasm for opportune investigation might not otherwise be gainsaid. The brat reeled through his mind like a drunkard, sometimes. The thought of his continuing to do so until Albus pronounced him adequately trained was bleak.
A follower of the Dark Lord developed an arsenal of defensive as well as offensive measures, physical, mental or magical. If he could no longer resist the boy's increasing skill as a Legilimens, there were other ways to shorten the odds.
He needed to get this out of the mind entirely, to an arena where the peevish child could no longer resist his experience.
He envisioned Potter manacled to the bedframe, wailing his need for release, and felt a tremor of excitement. No. That was not what he needed – though later it might pleasantly embellish their developing relationship.
'Potter,' he said softly, staring into the green eyes with idiot sincerity. 'Harry. Never mind that report; you know it's well written, though it may surprise you I agree with you. We need to advance your Occlumency lessons. You resist well, now, and your skill in offence is developing fast. However, you need to learn to maintain those skills in adverse circumstances.'
He hesitated artistically, and the boy leapt in. 'What are you suggesting, Professor Snape?'
'Have you thought about doing it under Cruciatus?' He saw the boy flinch, but then the shoulders squared.
'And under fellatio?'
The green eyes widened satisfactorily. 'Who…?'
'A weapon is a weapon. Have you practised resisting that?'
The answer was obvious.
'Only you can choose this test.'
The shoulders squared again, but the eyes were bright. 'I can try, Professor.'
Harry was disgusted. Detention once more.
Peeves had shopped him; he could hear the poltergeist crowing identifiably down the corridor. He was in Slytherin territory, after bedtime, and Ron still had not retrieved his Invisibility Cloak from the bleak environs of the arsenal where he hid it last night, pursued by Mrs Norris and trapped by Filch. Harry had agreed Ron had acted correctly; any amount of detention was worth it to save the Cloak from the janitor's nihilistic vindictiveness. Now he realised it had been jejune to go looking for a portrait of Salazar Slytherin to talk to without its shelter.
Professor Snape's temper was worse than ever, because they were doing Occlumency lessons after class again – or rather, because they were doing Legilimency. Harry seemed at last to have acquired the ability to gainsay Snape's access to his mind. And whatever Snape thought, Harry had been as horrified when Dumbledore had demanded he be taught to go on the offensive, to learn to be a mental voyeur.
Snape caught up with him, and the zest in his gaze gave Harry a momentary tremor of anxiety.
'Detention, Mr Potter, does not seem to reinstate your respect for school rules – well, you've never had any, have you? So we'll try something else. This meeting is most opportune. You will shorten the testing period my research compels me to undertake, because a heroic Gryffindor will test a potion for me – won't you, Mr Potter? – even if I have to manacle you to the bench.'
'I'm not quaffing anything you're still testing!' Harry exclaimed.
'Drunkards quaff. Students in detention drink obediently.'
Harry yielded perforce to the painful grip on his ear. He was not going to be towed to the potions laboratory like a recalcitrant puppy.
He was surprised to be taken to Snape's private rooms. Snape disappeared briefly then returned in a kimono – black, yes, but silk, patterned in silver and green with… was that deadly nightshade or bittersweet that embellished the lattice design? The swing of the garment revealed the man was naked beneath it.
'Clothes off,' Snape said curtly, reaching for a flask on the ulterior side of his desk.
Harry wailed involuntarily as he was slammed against the wall. Snape tipped the flask's contents down his throat; a hard stroking hand forced him to swallow it all.
Again Snape did not wait for compliance. A brutal cuff knocked Harry to the floor. The man dragged his clothes off, swept the silk clear, and pulled Harry's face into his groin.
'Fellatio, ignorant brat!'
Harry tried to draw back, gasping, 'Potion…'
Snape smiled malevolently and twisted his hand in the black hair. 'Nothing you need to worry about until later. Make your mouth useful for once, Potter.'
It was a long night, and Snape luxuriated in it.
Harry woke in his own bed in the morning, wondering why his jaw hurt, and why he could not remember asking Salazar how he might get on Professor Snape's good side.
If you care, the 25 words were: arsenal, bleak, compel, drunkard, embellish, fellatio, gainsay, heroic, identifiably, jejune, kimono, luxuriate, manacle, nihilistic, opportune, peeve, quaff, reinstate, shorten, tremor, ulterior, voyeur, wail, yield, zest.