FANFIC!!!!!!
"Mr Potter."
It really is quite fascinating the way the light hits the planes of his face. He looks like a stone statue, permanently etched into concrete by the bevel of a resentful sculptor. Or maybe one of those gargoyles. Aged, craggly, moody. Ole blue eye should have shared his nickname after all, but I doubt he'd fancy the idea.
"MISTER Potter."
I used to think he was such a bitter soul because of all that solitude dedicated to honing his wizardry skills, but I remind myself that there's always time for niceties. Dumbledore's just about the nicest Wizard I know, and according to the Wizarding World, the most powerful. So, there you go.
I don't know what makes him tick, or why he hates the world so much. I do know it must have something to do with his past, but even Dumbledore won't tell me what that means.
"MISTER POTTER!"
I reckon he's peeved about leaving all that glamorous life behind. I hear death and torture were popular in his days. Well, in any era, I suppose.
The swift pain that blossoms in my hand signals that something has just happened, and by the looks of Snape towering over me with his wand vibrating against the air, I suppose I should have listened the first time he called me.
"Yes?"
"Kindly pay attention Mr Potter. Difficult though that may be for your limited attention span, some of your peers ARE here to learn, and I shall not have them denied because of your holier-than-thou indifference."
I smile and tip my head. The reaction continues to startle and offend him, which he should probably learn by now is why I enjoy it so much. He swivels and stalks away from me in a frustrated billow of robes, and I lean my cheek in my hand to watch him. I'll learn him, of course. It's only a matter of time.
"Turn to page four hundred fifty three."
I raise my hand, but speak before he has the opportunity to ignore me. "Professor Snape." I can see his jaw tighten, and the stiff way his lips disapear against his teeth. He says nothing, of course. Not that this would ever deter me. "We were at page four hundred sixty, I believe."
His eyes zero in on mine like tiny nuclear missiles, and I resist the urge to giggle. But the temptation to mouth 'Pay attention' is too great, and I give in to it without struggle. A wobbly laugh stirs across the class before it is quickly brought to a stop by his near hysteric "SILENCE!".
Pages rustle, and Snape begins his lesson. From page four hundred sixty, of course. My blood sings joyfully at the reprimand certain to follow after class.
END