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tamingthemuseTitle: Grief Days
Fandom: Harry Potter
Prompt: #186 - Idle Hands are the Devil's Joy
Warnings: AU-ish
Rating: g
Notes: I dislike this. It turned out a trite and overdone, doesn't reflect canon in any way. However, deadlines must. And I haven't the time to go back and edit.
Summary: Snape runs a tight ship. That doesn't mean he can't get a laugh, now and again.
Severus Snape did not believe in 'time off.' He did not believe that a death should be acknowledged by staying home for three days, or whatever ministry policy was, crying into Witches' Weekly or some such.
Anyone under his employment at Hogwarts was full aware of his disdain for 'grieving time.' Afterall, hadn't he lost far more than anyone else could? The war had stripped him of nearly everything. It was only Minerva's willingness to step down as Headmistress and hand him the title that saved him, really.
The teaching staff at Hogwarts was fully aware of this. And they were also aware that had McGonagall not stepped down, Snape would have been fully capable of becoming an efficient criminal. Perhaps that was why the students and professors at Hogwarts had never experienced a more economical and effectual year.
Severus Snape ran a tight ship.
Which was why, to his great displeasure, he found himself telling the Malfoy boy (the heir was nearly 22 years old, but he would always be a boy to Snape) to take some time off. For grieving.
And no one had even died! Honestly.
"Oh, hullo, Headmaster," the blond greeted him as he entered his former potions lab. He graced the counters with a approving eye -- clean, orderly potions with labels. He had taught the boy well. "What can I do for you, today?"
Ordinarily, he would enjoy his infrequent meetings with Draco Malfoy but this was strictly business. "Leave," he said, in a voice that brooked no argument.
Malfoy stared at him quizzically. "Am I not performing my tasks as a Potions Master to your satisfaction, Severus?" But he started to close the text his was studying, and put away the cauldron he hadn't yet begun to use.
"Not at all," he replied almost pleasantly. "I'm telling you to take time off because I tire of your sulking, moping visage at mealtimes."
Draco, from where he was carefully putting away potions ingredients, paused. "My 'moping visage,' sir?" Although the question was phrased with utmost politeness, he could hear the undertone of strain.
"I believe I enunciated correctly. Go home. Deal with your Potter problems. Don't come back until you solve them. But do attend to this situation with some expediency."
Draco looked like Snape had flashed him. Then his face became mottled with embarrassment and rage. "Sir," he intoned in a tight voice. "My personal problems do not affect my work. I have seen to that."
"Are you questioning my authority as Headmaster?" Snape asked, in a voice that feigned nonchalance.
Draco blanched, regardless. "Pardon my frankness, Headmaster. However, I do not know how to submit this... vacation."
"It should be easily categorized under grieving. You had described to me how Potter's owl fell ill. In his time of need, I understand your need to support him." There. He had managed to give an employee grief days, and acknowledge Draco's relationship to that boy without sounding like he had something prickly in his throat. (even though he did. ugh. Potter and --- he didn't even want to think about it.)
"I shall begin my trek to the Hogsmeade apparition fields, then."
"See that you do," Snape said in a voice that belied his satisfaction. Although, he couldn't help but add to Draco's fleeing back: "And do attempt some discretion the next time you have a lover's spat."
Headmaster Snape was sure that squeak of embarrassment would entertain him for some time.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Prompt: #186 - Idle Hands are the Devil's Joy
Warnings: AU-ish
Rating: g
Notes: I dislike this. It turned out a trite and overdone, doesn't reflect canon in any way. However, deadlines must. And I haven't the time to go back and edit.
Summary: Snape runs a tight ship. That doesn't mean he can't get a laugh, now and again.
Severus Snape did not believe in 'time off.' He did not believe that a death should be acknowledged by staying home for three days, or whatever ministry policy was, crying into Witches' Weekly or some such.
Anyone under his employment at Hogwarts was full aware of his disdain for 'grieving time.' Afterall, hadn't he lost far more than anyone else could? The war had stripped him of nearly everything. It was only Minerva's willingness to step down as Headmistress and hand him the title that saved him, really.
The teaching staff at Hogwarts was fully aware of this. And they were also aware that had McGonagall not stepped down, Snape would have been fully capable of becoming an efficient criminal. Perhaps that was why the students and professors at Hogwarts had never experienced a more economical and effectual year.
Severus Snape ran a tight ship.
Which was why, to his great displeasure, he found himself telling the Malfoy boy (the heir was nearly 22 years old, but he would always be a boy to Snape) to take some time off. For grieving.
And no one had even died! Honestly.
"Oh, hullo, Headmaster," the blond greeted him as he entered his former potions lab. He graced the counters with a approving eye -- clean, orderly potions with labels. He had taught the boy well. "What can I do for you, today?"
Ordinarily, he would enjoy his infrequent meetings with Draco Malfoy but this was strictly business. "Leave," he said, in a voice that brooked no argument.
Malfoy stared at him quizzically. "Am I not performing my tasks as a Potions Master to your satisfaction, Severus?" But he started to close the text his was studying, and put away the cauldron he hadn't yet begun to use.
"Not at all," he replied almost pleasantly. "I'm telling you to take time off because I tire of your sulking, moping visage at mealtimes."
Draco, from where he was carefully putting away potions ingredients, paused. "My 'moping visage,' sir?" Although the question was phrased with utmost politeness, he could hear the undertone of strain.
"I believe I enunciated correctly. Go home. Deal with your Potter problems. Don't come back until you solve them. But do attend to this situation with some expediency."
Draco looked like Snape had flashed him. Then his face became mottled with embarrassment and rage. "Sir," he intoned in a tight voice. "My personal problems do not affect my work. I have seen to that."
"Are you questioning my authority as Headmaster?" Snape asked, in a voice that feigned nonchalance.
Draco blanched, regardless. "Pardon my frankness, Headmaster. However, I do not know how to submit this... vacation."
"It should be easily categorized under grieving. You had described to me how Potter's owl fell ill. In his time of need, I understand your need to support him." There. He had managed to give an employee grief days, and acknowledge Draco's relationship to that boy without sounding like he had something prickly in his throat. (even though he did. ugh. Potter and --- he didn't even want to think about it.)
"I shall begin my trek to the Hogsmeade apparition fields, then."
"See that you do," Snape said in a voice that belied his satisfaction. Although, he couldn't help but add to Draco's fleeing back: "And do attempt some discretion the next time you have a lover's spat."
Headmaster Snape was sure that squeak of embarrassment would entertain him for some time.
no subject
Date: 2010-02-16 05:03 am (UTC)Keep going, you've got something worth exploring with your writing ability.