Sep. 19th, 2005

miss_pryss: (U is for undone)
I want to read a story where one of the characters weeps gentle tears of loneliness.

My uterus DEMANDS it!
miss_pryss: (frank in pond)
Meals were taken in the great hall, at Minerva's insistence. Snape ate what survival required.

The ceiling of the great hall was mostly showing charmed sky, with diminishing gaps where the real sky showed through. One day, surprising himself, Snape transfigured his napkin into a creature that looked like a cross between a bat and a penguin and sent it to awkwardly flap up to the rafters, then out into the world through a ragged hole in the roof. All conversation ceased at the faculty table, and there was a nasty murmur from the students' tables. Snape stood up, his chair scraping across the flagstones, hideously loud.

"Severus--" began McGonagall, her fork dangling forgotten between her fingers, the asparagus impaled on it wobbling absurdly.

"I suggest you mind your dinner, Headmistress," Snape managed to spit out with acceptable venom. He clutched his cane and limped out of the great hall, pausing only to glare at a second-year Hufflepuff until she was nearly blind with panic, and her shaking hand sloshed pumpkin juice onto her neighbor's lap. It didn't make him feel better.

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miss_pryss

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