Secrets Only Trouble Knows - George Weasley

34 - I Want to Hold Your Hand

{ A/N: The pic I linked for this chapter is how I'm currently imagining in my head the way George looks while I'm writing! }

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Later that day, after leaving Harry, showering, and changing into warm clothes, George and I watched the clock count down to our deaths together with dread. When it finally hit 8:45 PM, it was time for us to leave the sanctuary of Gryffindor Tower and head to the dungeons for our first of many nights of detention with Professor Snape.

We departed from the common room where our friends had gathered to wish us good luck and descended into the cold passage underneath the castle where Snape's classroom resided. We arrived just as our watches hit 9:00. After taking a moment to prepare ourselves, George rapped his knuckles against the door, letting our professor know we were there. It swung open with magic, revealing Snape perched behind his desk, surrounded by heaps of paperwork.

"Enter," he greeted blandly without glancing up. He gestured to the two-person table located directly in front of his desk. "Have a seat. I'll retrieve the materials you will need for your task tonight."

He finished the sentence he must have been writing with his quill, then rose from his spot. He disappeared into the dusty supplies closet that resided in the back of his classroom, the same black cloak he wore everyday flapping behind him.

The chairs scraped unpleasantly against the wooden floor, disturbing the eerie silence throughout the room, as George and I pulled them out from underneath the table and sat down.

"No 'hello' or anything," George muttered. "He's such a dick."

"That's not new," I replied briskly. "What do you think he'll have us do tonight?"

"Nothing good. Something likely humiliating."

"I hope whatever it is isn't gross..." I mumbled.

"I wouldn't get my hopes up, Pierce," he frowned, just as Snape returned with an armful of things.

First, with a heavy thump, our professor dropped a large, white, lumpy bag on the table. Then came multiple glass jars, two pairs of tongs, and two tweezers.

Oh no.

I was smart enough to know such items indicated we were to be dissecting tonight. The question was... what?

"What's... um... in the bag there, sir?" I asked meekly.

With a gulp, I looked to our professor looming above. His thin, pale lips curled slightly into what could only be his version of an evil, delighted smile.

"Snakes," he answered simply.

"Snakes?" I repeated feebly.

"Oh, yes. I know how much you despise them, Miss Pierce, so I figured what better way to teach you a lesson than having you work with them so closely tonight?" he sneered, looking all too pleased with himself.

I felt faint. Literally dizzy.

"With that being said, you and Mr. Weasley here are going to spend this... glorious evening with me by dissecting different parts of these deceased snakes so that they may all be used in a variety of... useful potions."

"Sir, I hardly think this is fair," George spoke up. "Nova doesn't just despise them— she is deathly afraid. This is torture. Let me work with the snakes— give her any other task to do."

"Life isn't fair, Mr. Weasley. Get used to it," Snape refuted. "I will need the eyeballs, hearts, fangs, and tongues from every snake. Carefully place each in their own separate jars," he instructed. He turned, about to leave us, but then halted like he'd remembered something important. "Oh, and no magic will be tolerated. Use the tongs and tweezers only to complete the task. Or, better yet, your hands."