snarrymod (snarrymod) wrote in snarry_games, @ 2007-05-28 10:41:00 |
|
|||
Original poster: snarrymod
Our second Drabbler seems to be in cahoots with a current Champion. But that's ok with us, because her influence may have helped to provide us with some incredible drabbles. With an extra side of humour.
It is our pleasure to announce:
Drabbles by: gingertart50
Betaed by: rakina
Warnings: none
Rating: PG13
Setting – Postwar
Prompt 1 – Assassin
Genre – angst
Snape knew that Potter’s relatives had twisted his childhood with neglect, taught him to trust no one and primed him with rage. Then Dumbledore encouraged his insubordination, pushed him to his limit and flew him from his wrist like an eagle with Avada Kedavra eyes. There were neither bells nor jesses upon this bird, nor hope of recall. His only master was dead and Snape, the unwilling villain of the farce, faced Potter’s eleven inches of holly and recognised how he had orchestrated his own demise. With Voldemort gone, who else would bear the brunt of the green-eyed assassin’s wrath?
Prompt 2 – Oath of Fealty
Genre – angst
Harry had the sneaky bastard at his mercy yet his victory felt hollow and incomplete. Where was the old Snape, the cobra spitting venom and spite? Once Harry had called him a coward. Now that he knew the true manner of Dumbledore’s death and the oath of fealty that had forced Snape to murder his only friend and champion, Harry’s anger seemed nothing but the grudge of a sulky adolescent. Where was his wrath when he needed it? He had spent so long hating and hunting this man. He could not let those years of banked resentment go to waste.
Prompt 3 – Hostile Territory
Genre – angst
Snape’s face showed no hint of his capitulation. He was worn out with sustaining the glamours that had hidden him in hostile territory for the last two years. His downfall was the result of a foolish error, one born of exhaustion and need. He had visited a small Wizarding shop more than once within a month to buy ingredients for potions. Someone had reported him to the Aurors so now he faced the arch-Auror, blessed Harry Potter, and Slytherin pride alone kept him on his feet. Defeated only by the world’s most powerful wizard, Snape held his unkempt head high.
Prompt 4 – Prisoner of War
Genre – angst
“Drop the wand, Snape.” Harry’s voice was cold, revealing nothing of his inner turmoil. Thin and worn, Snape looked as if he had existed for years on nothing but cigarettes and spite. Where was the boggart of his schooldays now? The wizard who had revelled in the subtle art of mastery, gliding through the corridors of Hogwarts like a potion creeping through the veins, was reduced to a pallid, sickly prisoner of war. Snape looked down at his wand hand and slowly opened his fingers. The slender length of black fir tumbled end over end and clattered to the ground.
Prompt 5 – Surrender
Genre – angst
“Do it, Potter.” Snape’s voice was a phantom of his old, dark chocolate baritone. “Do not send me to an anonymous end at the mouth of a Dementor. Grant me a wizard’s death, as I granted Albus Dumbledore.” Sharp black eyes glared into green. Snape had always stolen every scene; leaving Harry wrong-footed and out manoeuvred. For once Harry was determined to play it his way.
“I put down vermin,” he said, lowering his wand. “I don’t kill wizards.”
“Getting soft, Potter?”
“No,” Harry said and something made him smile. “You will never make me angry enough to kill you.”
Prompt 6 – Counter Attack
Genre – angst
Snape’s eyes flickered from Harry’s face to the wand on the ground. Did he have the courage or resolve to counter attack? Dared he attempt to duel the wizard who had brought down Voldemort? He was so tired of running, of subterfuge and hunger. Let it end here. He wordlessly Accioed his wand and cast a cutting hex, knowing that Potter could deflect it. Yet he did not. The shredded robe flapped open and Snape stared at the blood trickling down the hero’s chest. Harry looked down then healed his own skin. His forbearance burned along Snape’s nerves like Crucio.
Prompt 7 – Armistice.
Genre – hurt/comfort
“Why?” Harry asked.
Snape sat down, wrapped his robes around his knees. “I am tired of wondering when the blow will fall. I would rather go down fighting than be put down like a dog.”
Harry sat beside him, wand held lightly, as if they were soldiers during a fragile cease-fire about to share a smoke.
“Dumbledore left McGonagall his Pensieve,” he said. “Sufficient evidence to exonerate you. No more innocent men should rot in Azkaban.”
“I am not an innocent man.”
“Nor am I,” Harry whispered. “You killed Dumbledore, I killed Voldemort. We each made the same hard choice.”
Prompt 8 – Safe Conduct.
Genre – hurt/comfort
“Come with me,” Harry said. “I won’t allow anyone to touch you.”
“Why?”
“Always untrusting, Professor? I want to clear your name. I’m not the only hero of the war.”
“You are prepared to share your glory? With a Death Eater?”
“Some glory.” His green gaze spanned Snape’s black-clad length. “Some Death Eater. Come on, you look like you could use a square meal.” He stood and held out his hand, calm and poised, no longer the impatient brat of Snape’s memories. “Professor, come with me. I can offer you safe conduct.” Slowly, Snape reached up and took his hand.
Prompt 9 – Casualty of War.
Genre – hurt/comfort
“What happened to Miss Weasley?” Snape asked. He sipped coffee, belly replete at last. Harry shrugged.
“She got married.”
“Did you and she not have an understanding?”
“Another casualty of war. I poisoned the relationship, pissed her off, she found a more cheerful bloke.”
“You do not sound distressed.”
“No,” Harry said, “I gave up expecting anyone else to understand why Gryffindor’s golden boy screams in his sleep.” He stared into his mug. “Why the sound of the rain makes me weep or a tapping twig makes me sweat. Why nothing can ever be the same.”
“I know,” said Snape.
Prompt 10 - Sanctuary.
Genre – romance
Harry woke screaming, to strange fingers carding through the tangle of his hair. No lover had ever before faced down the wild magic that washed through his nightmares.
“He’s gone,” Snape breathed, rocking him, “Gone.”
“But I’m here,” Harry choked out, clutching at the bony cradle of Snape’s limbs. “Why am I here? If he’s dead, what’s the point? I finished it all that night; the prophecy said that neither can live if the other survives.”
Snape went very still, and then his voice like red wine, rich and rare, murmured against his ear.
“Perhaps you are here for me.”