|in_the_grass (in_the_grass) wrote in wished,|
@ 2009-09-07 15:35:00
|Entry tags:||!1997: 09, !incomplete, charlie weasley, severus snape|
Who: Severus Snape and Charlie Weasley
What: The less pleasant aspects of professorship
Where: Corridor outside the Great Hall
There were many things he disliked - not to say hated - about his job, but the most persistent irritation was the constant necessity of dealing with children. It was difficult to say which set tried his patience the worst. The older ones were an impudent lot, far too confident in the little they'd managed to absorb over the years; the younger ones were too terrified or ignorant to be of any use at all. The boy who darted out of the Hall and missed colliding with him by something less than an inch belonged to the latter category - a second-year Ravenclaw who'd obviously just been on the receiving end of a prank involving a rather poorly cast staining jinx. His face was coming over a bright, splotchy orange. The boy skidded to a halt and froze in front of him, his hands clapped over his mouth.
"What?" Snape barked down at him, hefting his stack of books into one arm. The boy simply stared, too petrified or stupid to say anything - but still quite content to block his way, apparently. He leaned down more or less to his level. "Don't just stand there like a little fool," he said softly, giving a scornful sort of sigh as he saw his eyes begin to fill with tears. "Get yourself to the hospital wing before it does any more permanent damage than it already has." There was a miserable squeak of a sob, and the boy shot off down the hall in the wrong direction. "Left," he snapped after him, before straightening and stalking off again for the library. And only one week in, he thought. Kill me.