Severus drew up, his lip curling as he bit back the knee-jerk twenty points from Gryffindor that was his usual response to improper language. But before he could formulate a more appropriate reply, her face had split into a grin, which took him aback - and then his face went even whiter than usual in a sudden flare of anger.
"And you," he sneered, contemptuously kicking away the lump of candy she'd dropped, "are incredibly -"
He cut off; out of the corner of his eye he saw the half-eaten toad skitter into the gutter, and his mouth tightened into a line. Merlin's pants, indeed. He grabbed her wrist and inspected her hand - contaminated - and let go as though he'd been burnt. He wasn't going to touch the stuff. "Go home," he said, his voice tight and his eyes flashing. "And have yourself a few cups of tea, and for heaven's sake stay inside." With that he made to push past her, rolling his eyes, unsure whether he was more irritated with Horace, Cattermole, or himself. Horace - it was absolutely Horace's fault.