The Hero and the Spy

Unbridled Destruction

Summary: For the first time in more than ten years of teaching, Severus' classroom was destroyed.

Character(s): Harry Potter, Severus Snape, (mentioned) Neville Longbottom, (mentioned) Ron Weasley

Relationship(s): Harry & Severus (implied friendship, positive student/teacher, or familial; up to interpretation)

Setting: Mid to later Hogwarts years

Warnings/Tags: established relationship, physical destruction, humour

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Unbridled Destruction

Severus hadn't seen anything like it in more than ten years of teaching. Melted cauldrons, burning desks, shattered glass, injured students...that was all par the course for teaching Potions to insipid teenagers incapable of focusing on anything with any degree of seriousness for longer than ten minutes. Not to mention, he expected a large range of injury and damage having students such as Longbottom, Weasley, and Potter, but this...

"Professor, I—"

"Shut up."

"But I—"

"Do not speak."

He watched as a chunk of stone fell from the ceiling and crashed to the floor followed by a wooden support beam which knocked over his desk. Parchments—assignments and lesson plans specifically—scattered across the floor, falling into the absurdly green liquid flooding the room.

"Severus—"

He shot his hand out to slap over the teen's mouth, hearing a small squeak escape the boy. He stared at what was left of his classroom for several long minutes, feeling the boy shifting anxiously next to him and under his hand. Finally, he slowly turned to look at the cause.

Harry's eyes were wide and his black hair was a mixture of white and green from stone dust and the potion. He stood there with his hands twisting together, just allowing the hand that still sat over his mouth. As he stared hard at the boy, Harry's hands slowly came up and grasped Severus' arm, tugging the hand away from his face.

"Sorry?" Harry said in an abnormally high voice that normally would have amused Severus.

Now, however, he just stared until another crash happened as more stone fell, smashing through a desk. His eyes fluttered shut. More than ten years of teaching and he had never had a destroyed classroom. He'd also never had a student die, accidentally or by his hand despite the popular and very true opinion that he often wished for just that.

That decade-long record was at serious risk, however, as he opened his eyes again to glare dangerously at the Gryffindor. He wasn't sure his fondness for the boy would make a difference in this instance.

"Kill me quickly. Please."

Fin