Narcissa walked into the History of Magic classroom alongside her sister Bellatrix, nose characteristically high in the air. She spoke in hushed tones with her dear sister, leaning her head toward her a bit.
"What do you think it is?" She sounded somewhere between thoughtful and concerned, pressing her thin lips together and giving a little shake of her head. "He isn't himself lately."
Bellatrix made a sound of dismissal and waved her hand. "I'm finished thinking of him." The girls took their seats, beside each other, of course. Narcissa glanced once across the room at Severus, sitting at a desk to himself and glaring threateningly at quite nearly everyone who entered the classroom.
"All right," Narcissa said, slowly, pulling out her quill and ink. Bellatrix did the same. The moment Professor Binns began talking, of course, he began to lose the attention of the student body.
Written on the edge of Narcissa's parchment.
Scribbled back, after a few eager nods and a poke delivered to Bellatrix by Narcissa.
Scrawled back hastily.
Jotted back, accompanied by an expression of disbelief.
He finished it, and slid it to Severus, with every indication that he expected Snape to be thrilled to be getting his note.
Scribbled on the back and passed back hastily.
Passed back, following a patronizingly sweet chuckle.
Followed by a glare and a sharp kick to the underside of Mr. Lockhart's chair.
Preceded by a smirk and a heavy, melodramatic sigh, and a shake of the head.
Thrown back quite tersely, and with a glare cold enough to nearly freeze Gilderoy straight through.
When class ended that day, Snape resisted the urge to trip Lockhart on his way out, slipping out the door quickly.
He pushed past a group of Gryffindors, walking most haughtily, nose in the air. He passed Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, as well as some of the members of his own house...
The possibility of Severus Snape ever actually kissing someone is doubtful. Even so...
A pair of eyes watched Severus Snape from across the corridor, staring hard. Then, the wand was lifted, pointed, the incantation spoken.
"Halloween's coming up," Rabastan remarked, relaxing in a chair by the Slytherin Common Room's fireplace. Severus sat on the couch, engrossed in an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts, leaning close to the paper.
"What?" he sounded incredibly bothered. "Oh, right. Yes." He jotted down a few more notes, glancing up to his housemate. He stared at him for a moment, as though he expected Rabastan to go on. When he didn't, he rolled his eyes a bit and looked down at the paper once more.
"Reckon you'll get a costume?" Rabastan asked next. Severus shrugged a bit, dripping a bit of ink but not truly caring.
"Costumes are for first years," he muttered, dipping his quill in the inkwell once more. "I'm honestly considering missing the Feast."
"Yeah," Severus said, after a moment, setting down his quill. "It'd just be another excuse for Potter and Black to show off. I would really rather not experience another Halloween with their lot. I thought it would suit me to acquire my own refreshments and stay in."
Rabastan glanced to him again, raising his eyebrows. "What sort of refreshments do you mean?"
"The sort that Dumbledore will assuredly not have at the Halloween Feast," Snape said, a sly smirk sneaking across his lips, looking back down to his book after a few moments. "It will, of course, be a private affair."
Rabastan looked quite put out, and Severus felt triumphant because of that.
Passed to Severus during a very long Transfigurations lesson, behind McGonagall's back.
And returned quite quickly with a sigh and a scowl.
Slid back and forth across the table while watching, and smirking at, a few Gryffindors attempting to transfigure their teacups into tortoise shells.
Remus woke up slowly, feeling druggish and slow. He tried to open his eyes and found one bandaged shut; he sighed and closed the one he'd been able to open.
"Remus?" He opened the eye again and found Sirius, looking at him from the bottom of the bed. Sirius patted Remus's foot lightly. "Good morning, sunshine!"
"It's half past noon," Peter piped up, and offered Remus a glass of water. He took it gratefully, and sipped just enough to wet his mouth. "James is--"
"--here now," James said, from the door. Tracking the conversation with his eyes like it was a tennis match, Remus found his gaze diverted by a hand: Sirius's hand, one finger red and toothmarked. He couldn't hear the voices of his friends any more.
"Sirius... what's that?" He had to repeat himself twice before the dark-haired boy heard him.
"What, this? I think last night I was bitten by something..." He inspected the marks carelessly. "Might have been a weremouse, look at the prints of the teeth."
"Wasn't a weremouse," Peter glared at him, "That was ME, you bastard, and if you pick me up by the tail again you'll get worse."
"Imagine if it *were* a weremouse," Sirius breathed, lifting his hand to his forehead dramatically. "And every month by the light of the full moon, I would become a mouse! And how the world would hate me so for my rodentishness." Peter punched him in the shoulder and James snickered, slicking his hair back and Remus stared at the ceiling for a moment, before clearing his throat.
"Padfoot, how many times do I have to tell you not to pick him up? What if you bit his tail off?"
"Wonder what would happen," James remarked, moving to join the three in the vicinity of Remus' bed. "If that did happen and Pete changed back. What would he be missing?" James asked the question innocently enough, but Sirius started snickering, before looking to Pete and waggling his eyebrows in what could only be described as a threatening manner.
"What say you, Wormtail? Shall we see what the equivalent of a tail is to a man?"
Peter paled and James choked and Sirius guffawed and Remus stared at the ceiling for another few moments, before simply closing his eyes. He didn't have the strength to deal with that sort of talk. Hell, he barely had the strength on a normal day, much less... well, one of these days.
"You could swallow him one day," Remus sighed, shaking his head a little. "And what happened to my eye?"
"Oh, you got in a bit of trouble with Prongs' antlers," Sirius stated, calmly. "Don't worry. I hear eye patches are quite fetching these days. The birds just go mad over them. Moony, you could be the Dread Pirate Lupin! Oh, it would be so brilliant!"
Remus was quickly turning a green colour.
"He's joking!" Peter interrupted quickly. "Your eye isn't poked out! It's fine! You scratched your cheek on a tree branch. High up on your cheek, like. I remember, I saw it and thought, 'Wow, that was high up on Remus' cheek, like.'"
"You are no fun at all," Sirius grumbled, crossing his arms. James moved to sit on the bed beside Sirius and Remus, and Peter hovered just over James' shoulder. Remus looked up to his friends, and smirked.
"All right, then," he said, with a slight nod. Then, he sighed and rested his head back against the pillow, his eyes closed. Another full moon passed without much incident. Another full moon passed and he survived, and no one was hurt (if you didn't count Sirius' horrible weremouse bite), and nothing horrible had happened and they hadn't been caught or seen.
Remus Lupin had begun to wonder, months ago, when their good luck was going to run out.