darth_stitch | Still on that Rabid Snarry Princess Bride Bunny....

I still can't believe I'm doing this.

*Stitch thumps head on the computer*

Lost my mind...really, just up and lost my mind and will probably not be getting it back anytime soon....damn you, stupid rabid plot bunny!

As You Wish
Chapter One: The Potions Master

Severus Snape could never be called the most handsome man in the world.

His nose was too big, for one thing, and he quite hated it. A far more charitable person would call it "Roman" or "aristocratic" but Severus Snape believed in being honest with himself and would have none of that. Simply put, he had a great raptor's beak of a nose that he fervently hoped none of his children (as if he would have any) would ever be unlucky enough to inherit.

Katerina giggled. "That's what Papa always says."

Daddy scowled. "Do you want me to go on or not?"

Katerina privately thought that Papa scowled better anyway and Daddy still looked his best when he smiled. Instead of saying that aloud, however, she said quite meekly, "Yes, Daddy, do go on."

Daddy cleared his throat. "As I was saying…"

Also, his hair, although it was quite an attractive shade of black, was far too greasy from all the time he spent in his Potions laboratory. It hung in lank, limp, unattractive strands just below his ears and hid his face half the time. There was a time when he kept it quite long and tied neatly (more or less) back but he'd finally given up on the whole thing and hacked off most of it once and for all. Besides, having one's hair getting into one's potions wasn't very healthy. His skin was also an unhealthy pale shade and his hands, lovely and elegant as they were, were perpetually stained yellow at the tips from handling the ingredients for his potions.

Also, he scowled more often than he smiled (he never, ever smiled, actually). If he had one claim to beauty, then it was his voice. His voice was very much like warm honey, a deep, dark velvety purr that could ensnare the senses far more efficiently than any of his potions or spells could. He could quite stop a person in his or her tracks with that voice. It might have saved him completely except instead of saying nice, cheerful and complimentary things, he often flayed people alive with sharp, acerbic comments on their general intelligence and competence. Few people survived a verbal battle with Severus Snape and lived to tell the tale.

Not that many people dared to approach the Potions Master. Most of the time, he was perfectly content in his cottage, within his laboratory, brewing his potions and working on his spells. He was quite an accomplished wizard and he was far better known for his magical skill rather than his looks or his honeyed words. His only companion was his assistant - a young man named Harry, who was, more often than not, the usual target of his acid tongue.

"Fetch this, boy," Snape would say. "Chop this up finer, you clumsy fool - you're mangling it all up!" "Carry this, boy." "Bring this to the midwife, boy." "I asked for asphodel, you dunderhead!"

To all these, Harry would only answer, "As you wish." Which was odd, really. Harry had a pert tongue of his own and this often resulted in some lively arguments between them. He was perhaps the only person in the world who went toe to toe with Snape in a battle of words and though he lost more of them than he would like, the silly, foolish boy still kept at it. This new thing (" 'As you wish' indeed!" Snape huffed.) was so quite unlike the normally spirited young man that it put Snape quite out indeed.

He rather missed having someone to talk to who at least had half a brain in his head. Even if he denied its existence from time to time. Now it was "As you wish" this. And "As you wish" that. And quite frankly, Snape was getting sick of it.

Accordingly, his comments to Harry became more and more acidic, trying to provoke the young man into saying something other than " 'As-you-bloody-wish.'"

Finally, it all came to a head one day when Harry came back from the market, having been swindled quite nicely out of some vital potions ingredients for the nth time.

"Can't you bloody read, boy?" Snape raged, waving a sheet of paper practically under the young man's nose. "Everything has been written out here, quite clearly -- "

"I don't know how to read."

The words, spoken with a hint of the old defiance in the young man's green eyes, were enough to stop Snape mid-rant.

"What?"

"I said, I don't know how to bloody read. And you heard me the first time."

"Don't be impertinent, boy and just answer the bloody question. So how on earth did you manage the first few times?"

Harry shrugged. "I asked people to read them for me. It was usually all right."

Snape rolled his eyes. "You are far too trusting."

"There are new merchants in the marketplace. Strangers from out of town. I won't make that mistake again," Harry said firmly. The boy did have a brain that worked from time to time, Snape allowed. He wasn't the type to make the same mistake twice.

"Well we are going to rectify this matter immediately. I will have you learning how to read so you won't have to foolishly rely on the kindness of strangers ever again. And you will learn, believe me. I will not tolerate any inattention or laziness on your part. Is that clear?"

Harry looked quite pleased at the prospect and said, very eagerly, "As you wish!"

Snape tried very, very hard not to hex him clear across the room for that.

- TBC -