I don't have to answer the voices in my head

I jumped on the bandwagon again. A shock, I know. Inspired by celandineb, and my own uncontrollable urge to promote pretty much any pairing involving a happy Snape. 327 words, G-rated, single-voice crack.

---

5 Reasons Snape Puts Up With Harry, or, Love Isn't One of Them
An interview with Rita Skeeter

You people ask the most intrusive questions. Why must you persist? Does it really matter, why I don't send him to live with Weasleys, or on his own?

Oh very well, Albus. Why I agreed to hang your bloody portrait in my home, I'll never know. Meddling old bugger, I'm sure it was actually Potter's idea.

I do not send Harry Potter away because he keeps the place in order. I know all of the standard housekeeping charms, but Tergeo and Scourgify are not the same thing as on-your-knees effort, are they?

I have yet to evict The Walking Bird's Nest for the simple reason that I am not used to a great deal of discussion. While he keeps house here, he also usually manages to deter fools who feel it necessary to track me down and pester me with questions, the answers to which are most assuredly none of their bloody business. Do not drip that vile pink excuse for ink on my furnishings, Skeeter.

I permit the annoying twit to inhabit my home because he's a reasonably good cook. His holiday meals are quite satisfactory, despite the company he insists on including. Weasleys. It's always Weasleys. And Granger. And that positively insufferable French bint who married one of the Weasleys. And their children...

I keep the Boy-Who-Lived about the place as a reminder that we are not who we believed ourselves to be when we were young. I am not a glory-seeking Dark Master. Potter is not a golden idol to be followed by the masses. Neither of us is the child who first set foot in the Great Hall of Hogwarts... and it is entirely possible that we never were.

Besides all that, I love the little green-eyed idiot, don't I? Dearest Merlin, I knew you'd drop your quill. Spell that ink out of my rug immediately, or I shall not be held responsible for what happens to you.

And Albus... do shut up.

Title: Crossing the Line, AU Genfic
Also Posted: HERE
Challenge / Character(s): LINE / Trio, Snape
Rating / Wordcount: G / 100 X 3
Notes: Harry's seventh year, ignores HBP entirely. Thought of this on the bus to work, watching three people at the transit exchange scream at each other.

1.
Harry trudged down the Grand Staircase in a fug, wishing Hermione was there to shut Ron up for him.

"He doesn't even mind his hygeine," Ron prattled prissily.

I'm so tired of this shite. Even Snape should have kindness. Maybe it's why he's such a bastard, because Dad and Sirius made sure nobody ever was nice to him.

Harry paused at the first floor landing, a brilliant idea taking shape in his mind. Ron rambled onward, still talking, but Harry didn't care.

I need Hermione. She'll be able to find what I need. Harry made a beeline for the library.

( 2. )

( 3. )

Title: A Smile
Characters: Snape & ??
Word Count: 100
Rated: G
Challenge: snape100 #144 - mystery character draw
Notes: cut to preserve the mystery

( A Smile )

Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Harry, Ginny, OFC
Challenge: Party
Also Posted: Harry100
Author's notes: First thing that popped into my head. Guess I'm just depressed.


     "The party of the first part, Harry James Potter, agrees to pay to the party of the second part, Ginevra Molly Weasley-Potter, twenty Galleons per month in alimony. If Ms. Weasley-Potter should remarry at any time, all payments shall cease permanently," the lawyer summarized briskly. Harry signed the scroll, and then Ginny did.

     "Child visitation is as follows: Ms. Weasley-Potter shall be permitted access to Fiona Lenore Potter alternate weekends, two weeks at alternate Christmases, one calendar month every summer, and optional daytime access as agreed upon beforehand by both parties."

     Harry sighed, and scrawled his name one last time.

Character(s): Harry, Hermione, Creeveys
Rating: G
Also Posted: Performance challenge, hp100
Word Count: 100
Notes: Because Harry so would, after watching Trilogy The First. Wouldn't you?


     Harry glanced over his shoulder at the Creevey brothers, poised with camera and Quick Quotes Quill.

     "Oi - Harry, just a few words for the Prophet, come on!" Dennis warbled, and Colin snapped a couple of photographs before Harry could tell them to bog off. He hated being followed in Muggle London. He couldn't even attend a film festival with a friend, lately.

     Wandlessly, he cast a silent spell. "These are not the wizards you're looking for."

     "Harry! You have to stop doing that. It's creepy," Hermione admonished, turning away so he wouldn't see her fail to conceal her smile.

     Draco Malfoy is controlled and icy, and never gives up anything more of himself than he absolutely must. His spells are cast, potions brewed, essays scribed onto fresh sheets of parchment – no crossed-out word, no blot of ink, no imperfect phrase – precisely. Everything must be just so.

     Malfoy is a work of art, a porcelain boy with poseable limbs, and he loves to pose. Girls watch him wherever he goes. Boys as well, but he doesn’t think about them or what their eyes mean.

     Malfoy watches his classmates from his self-imposed isolations, and finds each of them wanting. His standards are, after all, the highest. As a Malfoy, he can allow no flaw, no stain, to touch him.

     Malfoy does not examine himself; his motives are as precise as he is. Never mind that he cannot define them, they are subliminal, and do not involve desire, or loneliness, or fear.

     Malfoy’s father is his model, the framework upon which he stretches his skin, hoping to be big enough one day to hold all of the grace and rage a pureblooded wizard is made of, despite the fact that the reasons for this are as nebulous and impossible to demonstrate logically as his own motives – though they must be as real. They must.

     Precision is rewarded with correct results, he thinks, dazed, as Potter strides away with the purest of blood on his knuckles and a grim smile on his lips.

House: Ravenclaw
Also Posted: hp100 entry
Rating: G
Characters: Random Death Eaters
Challenge: Staff Development
Word count: 100
A/N: I can't stop. It's a sickness.


71. 'Yo Mama' is not clever banter.

72. Baked goods brought in for the purpose of celebrating birthdays may NOT be shaped like eyeglasses.

73. Please refrain from amusing yourselves with 'talking hands'. It hurts the organization's image, Bella.

74. Pinching Draco Malfoy in the vestibule is not appropriate workplace conduct, no matter how much he enjoys it.

75. Re: Tuesday's meeting. It is not funny to refer to a visit by a certain family as 'getting Crabbes at the weekend'.

76. Harry Potter is NOT 'kind of sweet, actually'.

77. ‘Abracadabra’ will NOT be this year’s rally anthem. Stop asking.

House: Ravenclaw
Also Posted: hp100 entry
Rating: G
Characters: Random Death Eaters
Challenge: Staff Development
Word count: 100
A/N: Blame LJ-ers wulfkub and bluejeanphoenix, everybody.


7. Broomsticks bearing decals supporting Quidditch teams and local shops are not to be used on official business outings.

8. Remember who we are. The elite of society do not make book on the fates of prisoners.

9. Death Eater robes are black. They are not: canary yellow, pink, sea foam, orange, baby blue, nor ecru. Please refer to your Handbook, the section entitled Official Dress Code, to prevent further errors.

10. All identifying characteristics should be fully concealed by robes and hoods in public. These include, but are not limited to: scars, bodily deformities, and one's long, silvery hair.

Author: soberloki
Characters: Snape, McGonagall, Harry
Rating: G
Word Count: 100
Prompt: #124: Severus Snape and the Boy Who Lived
Author's Notes: Harry's 3rd or 4th year, inspired by an icon created by LJ-er graphicalrum.


"... Severus? What’s going on here?"

Snape glowered at McGonagall. "There's something wrong with the boy. His classmates should count themselves lucky I acted so quickly."

McGonagall sighed. "Why did you hex Mister Potter, please?"

Snape mentally reviewed the afternoon's Double Potions class. "I believe he is under the Dark Lord's control. He spoke in a language I did not understand."

McGonagall nodded slowly. "What did it sound like? Was it Parseltongue?"

Snape frowned again, at the Petrified form of Harry Potter, propped against the wall. "No. He mumbled and sang to himself, and then he said, 'Bork bork bork'."

( Stubborn Git )


( Sway )


( Dave's Not Here, Man )


( Bloody Hell )

Title: Doubt
Character(s): Snape, Harry
Word Count: 100
Notes: No clue. Just another brain fart. That, and I like the idea of Snape being something other than entirely canon or fanon.

     Snape found Potter at the bottom of the Grand Staircase, at four AM. Potter appeared to have been beaten within an inch of his life. Sighing, Snape conjured a stretcher and took him to the hospital. Again.

     Every week. Who does this? Why? What does it mean?

     If Dumbledore would only agree, Snape could have answers in minutes, and stop the abuse. Snape didn't understand why he wasn't to protect the boy now, when his entire career had been about that very thing.

     Not for the first time, he wondered if Albus really did want the boy's ultimate victory.

Title: Turning Left
Characters: Lucius Malfoy, OFC
Word Count: 219
Notes: Brain fart. Read LJ-er circe_tigana's A Punch-Up At A Wedding and had this come upon me. Don't have anyone in mind for the parent, particularly. *is random*


"Sir? Mr. Malfoy?"

Lucius turns and glares at the girl, his son's age or younger, clearly not in their social circle because he doesn't know her and he thinks she might be wearing Muggle clothing, styled after Wizard garb.

"Yes?" He's ice, he's not bothered at all by the liquid brown eyes and shaggily familiar brown hair.

"Sir, my Daddy went to your wedding and he waited in the woods and he saw you tell them lies and burn the willow boughs. He says you're as pure as you ever were, even in school, but he's purer still." She doesn't seem to understand what she's saying.

Lucius is most assuredly not bothered. He is not. If he were bothered, he would have to remember the days before his wedding, and he doesn't want to. Those days are over. They cannot be resurrected and he cannot be saved.

"What is your father's name?"

The girl shakes her head. "I'm not allowed to say. You're supposed to know. He said if you didn't know, you didn't deserve to."

"What is your name?"

That makes her smile, and she doesn't answer. He expected it. He knows who sent her, now.

As he draws his wand, he wonders if the girl's father remembers the days before that wedding as clearly as he believes.

Character(s)/Pairing(s): Snape/Potter/UFC
Rating: G
Word Count: 100
Warnings/Kinks: Extreme vagueness.
Notes: Marauders-era, Severus and James are seventeen.

     Severus Snape ran. If she dies. If she dies we go with her. He pounded the wet earth with his feet and thought of punishment, redemption, souls and their vessels.

     Behind him, James Potter ran too. "We don't have time!"

     Shut up. Shut up. Don't say it. Magic is intent. "We do."

     Her weight in his arms was the only constant. We do.

     “What are you going to do, Snivellus? We’re thirty miles from anywhere, and–“

     She touched Severus' chest. He looked down, hoping her eyes would be open. Her hand fell away, and Severus fell away with her.

---

No, I don't know who she is. Honest. I don't know where it fits in a larger story, though I'm sure it does. I just had a hugely angsty brain fart, and this is what it left behind. ETA: Since DH is out, I've decided she's Lily. It's still all kinds of AU, but now I know what she looks like.