Drabbling

[valis2]

Outright stolen from ac1d6urn

Every person on your f-list gets to request a drabble (100 words exactly) from you. In return, they should post this in their journal and write a drabble for you. Post all fandoms you're willing to write for. Your friends can pick a relationship, a story arc, a missing scene, commentary! or pretty much anything they want, unless the author has previously mentioned that they will not write it. They comment with what they want, and you write drabbles and post it in your LiveJournal.

HP, any pairing involving SS, no house-elves, Mrs. Norris, or students, if possible.

I could write a drabble or two tonight...yeah...

Comments

[ac1d6urn.livejournal.com]

*grin* Ohhh. No students, eh? Too bad, that rules out my OTP.

How about Snape & Black, a hate story?

[valis2.livejournal.com]

"A Bitter and Deathless Hatred"

Severus Snape's joy in Black's death was shortlived.

The first day he returned to Grimmauld Place he felt exhilirated. Walking across the threshold gave him a thrill like none other. Even Black's mother couldn't dampen his spirits. He gave Remus a nasty smile and walked into the kitchen.

During the meeting the other members of the Order looked sad. Severus gave his report, detailing the Dark Lord's plans for recovery, rejoicing that Black was not here.

Moody took over next, explaining how they were planning on incarcerating the Death Eaters without Dementors.

That's when he felt it.

The knives were angry. The knives were shaking in the drawer. They hated him, wanted to flay him alive, they wanted to excise his liver and fillet his heart.

Minerva commented that he looked pale, and the feeling faded.

During the next visit the troll's leg muttered nasty bone-breaking curses under its breath.

Then it was the curtains, who wanted to strangle him, stuff his mouth with dust, shred him and rend him.

He dreamed at night that the glasses rose up and crashed over him like a wave, like the deathless wave of the sea, green and shining and suffocating. He dreamed that the stairs were warping and bending and imprisoning him within their knots. He dreamed that the pictures were all blank, emptied of Black, of Lupin, of Potter, that they gleamed and gaped at him, latching onto his robes, pulling, strangling.

In the middle of the night he stole away to Black's grave.

"Stupid bastard," he seethed. "Fine. I'm sorry."

The next meeting he sat quietly. He could just faintly make out the milk-jug, giggling.

[ac1d6urn.livejournal.com]

Awww! You are a genius. *grin* The plot is so believable, I can picture it happening in canon. And I have a weakness for Snape being haunted that I didn't realise until now (one'd think the entire Price of Magic plot would give me a hint).

Thank you. First it's the LJ Anniversary post and now this. Wow. It's my lucky day.

He could just faintly make out the milk-jug, giggling.
I love that line!!!! :D I love the entire thing.

May I link to it from my LJ?

[valis2.livejournal.com]

Oh, thank you so very much! I really loved writing this. Really, really, really! It was fun.

In fact, I liked it so much I put it up at quirkyhpshorts, and made a drabble challenge there. Hee! If you want to link to it, go ahead. You can also link to it here (http://www.livejournal.com/community/quirkyhpshorts/18895.html) at quirky.