Flick and Swish || A Harry Potter Anthology

Unexpected Festivities By Arrow

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https://archiveofourown.org/users/bxllatrixx

The Christmas season was fast approaching, and the students and staff throughout Hogwarts were preparing for the holidays. Excitement could be seen in the expectant gazes of nearly everyone– that is, except for Severus Snape.

Professor Snape was, unlike everyone else in the castle, quite indifferent towards the holidays. Fellow staff members always asked him why, but he had no particular answer, although he did find the extent of the cheerfulness nauseating every once in a while.

As for his classes, he wasn't going to allow the festivities to reduce the efforts of his students, especially his fifth years with their O.W.L.s fast approaching. Snape was making them research antidotes, and he hoped they would take it seriously. Just to be sure they did, though, he had promised to poison one of them before Christmas to see if their concoction was effective. Given his nature, he knew they wouldn't view it as a bluff, but he still wasn't sure if he was going to go through with it or not. It depended on their performances, he supposed.

It was the evening before the holidays officially began, and Snape was making his way through one of the dark dungeon corridors. The light from the torches adorning the walls cast long, wavering shadows across the floor as he strode down the hallway. He threw open the door to his office, entered and quickly took out his wand to light the fireplace. It was a cold winter evening, and even he needed some form of warmth.

Snape sank down into the chair behind his desk, taking a deep breath and placing a thumb and forefinger on the bridge of his nose. It had been a busy day, what with it being the last day of classes before Christmas. He hadn't poisoned one of his students, but their performance was still rather lacklustre. If they failed their Potions O.W.L. and badly reflected his teaching skills, he would make them sorry they'd ever set foot in Hogwarts. After all, it wasn't his fault his fifth years were a group of incompetent fools. Even the Slytherins needed improvement, which had to be a first since his Hogwarts house was usually naturally gifted at the subject. Snape sighed and grabbed an empty goblet that sat on his desk. He lightly tapped the brim with his wand, watching as deep red wine appeared inside of it.

The exhausted Potions professor was just preparing to enjoy the much-needed peace and quiet when a faint rustling sound jolted him out of his thoughts.

He bristled in his chair and turned his head towards the source of the sound. It had come from the other side of his office, which was currently covered in shadows since he hadn't lit the room's torches. While it could have been a ghost, or perhaps even a rat, if Filch had been shirking his duties, Snape couldn't help but feel wary– especially in these times. Even the lowliest Death Eater knew the Dark Lord had returned to his former glory.

With a flick of his wand, Snape lit the torches upon the walls and watched as light swept across the shadowed corner. He raised a brow in confusion at first– nothing unusual greeted his suspicious stare. The bookshelves and display cabinets were unscathed. All that was left was...

He swore loudly and rolled his eyes as his gaze landed on a chair in the far corner. Perched upon the furniture, her face alight with mischief, was none other than Bellatrix Lestrange.

As he pondered her sudden arrival, Snape took in her appearance. While still beautiful, Azkaban had certainly left its mark on her. Her face, which was contorted in a playful smirk, sported sunken eyes and sharp cheekbones. It was quite a surprise, as he hadn't seen her in person since before her capture.

Snape dismissed his observations as she laughed that familiar, wicked cackle. "Hello, Sev," she purred, resting her chin in her hand as she took a good look at him.