Severus Snape: OneShots

Mirrored Repentance

Gods, was it that day already? Severus groaned. Still, the bustle would provide good distraction. Severus had a cunning plan!

Valentine's Day.

Cursing profusely at St. Valentine when he'd witnessed disgusting displays of the infliction's of hormone-controlled. Stupid boys kneeling down on one knee to insipid girls, promising their hearts forever. Frankly it made him want to vomit.

This is officially hell! Hogwart's interior looked like a pink paint-bomb exploded and seeped hideousness everywhere. Gods, he disliked this day with abject loathing.

Because of Lockhart's flippant flamboyancy, adolescents behaved like a hypnotised hive-mind towards anything heart-shaped. He was aware of Lockhart's fan club. Mortified to learn that Miss Granger fell for the fops lies. The puffed up ponce!

Salazar's Stench, he remembered the useless prat as a student. It was his misfortune that he'd taught Gilderoy's final year.

He'd made no effort to hide his disdain at the asinine décor he passed by. Quickly cutting a swathe through large gatherings of students. His terrifying reputation had preceded him.

Severus had a deterrent for times he'd received a Valentines card. Firstly, he viciously docked points from the simpleton's house. Spitefully, in red ink, he corrected the simpering admirer's grammar. Finally he returned the card to senders.

There were the stubborn few who challenged his limits. Parkinson was sure to become a limpet leech on his soul until her final year. Dreamy looks from the older Ravenclaws, Miss Edgecomb particularly, unnerved him.

Focus on your mission, he thought.

Secretly he'd buried himself in research on the Mirrors history. Lucius Malfoy's library was a treasure trove of secrets. He'd discovered a unique quality that even the Headmaster didn't know.

If he was judged worthy, he'd be tucked up in bed with a smile on his face. If not, however, then at least he'd tried. Yes; he'd rally, rant, rave, and kick up a giant hissy fit of such epic proportions that Hogwarts may just give him what he wants. Hogwarts was like that, sometimes.

Severus' robes billowed as he stooped down to open the trapdoor. Cat-like, he leapt down, robes flying behind him. Sternly casting the lacarnum inflammare, charm on his descent. Efficiently dispatching the Devil's Snare below.

Next, he flew on the rackety old brooms Hooch provided. Swiftly he caught the rumpled flying key. Smoothly landing, showing no signs of visible nervousness.

A relieved sigh escaped him when he entered the empty room. Thank you, he whispered to any deity above. He did not relish the next challenge.

Looming tall, the deadly chess pieces were fixed and in position. One space was left. He took it and allowed the game to progress. Smoothly checkmating the opposing King with efficient stoicism. Blood trickled down his cheeks, his ulna bone had snapped in two different places. But obsidian determination fought through with perseverance.

The next task was a piece-of-cake. Fires sprang up whilst he was finding the right potion. After gulping it down, he walked through the flames.

The Mirror almost affected an innocent aura. Reverently Severus stroked the wooden frame. A little smile tugged his lips as he read the words. Utterly genius, he sighed. Another scholar had worked out that it could do more. Over time people forgot about the carvings that mattered.

He peered down to find the words he must chant. There, he thought, the cantrip that will change everything.

"For Your Desire to be Set Free, One Must Be Cleansed Of Heart's Debris," he read aloud.