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http://www.angelfire.com/planet/unfinishedfanfics/ My little corner of the
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By ‘Accident’ Another
version of what happened to Snape immediately after he exits the stage in
Book 6 (HBP). Romance. |
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It was the fateful day of the slaying of Dumbledore. Severus Snape, dragging Draco by his collar, raced frantically out the Hogwarts front gate and out onto the lone country road that it opened up onto. Now, safe for a moment’s disapparation on public soil, Snape practically threw down Draco, who was sobbing, and took a deep breath. He wiped his brow with his long dark sleeve and shook his head a bit vigorously to clear his nasal passages of a fly or moth or something which had flown up his nose in their flight. After a second’s pause, he kicked Draco. The boy lay on the ground, all of his former pride forsaken and all of his former surliness abandoned from his loathed pale face. The boy’s tearstained cheeks looked up into the sage black eyes of his rescuer. Draco was evidently highly shaken. “Get up, boy,” Snape said, in almost what you might describe a kindly manner if this wasn’t Snape we were talking about. Underlying the friendliness, however, there lay a dark and dangerous soul not to be trifled with, who certainly was by no means being kind. “Get over it,” Snape snapped as Draco looked at him blankly, his clear blue eyes brimming. Snape turned away and extended his hand. “GET UP!” he demanded in a venomous hiss. He was not about to be caught due to this little pipsqueak of a boy Lucius Malfoy called his son! Draco finally summoned the strength to do so, apparently, for he stood up quicker than you could say ‘Mollywobbles.’ “Take my hand,” Snape said coldly, reaching for Draco’s. Draco pulled back and made a revolted face. “I’m not about to--” he began, but Snape persisted. “My arm, then, Draco, we’re about to disapparate—unless you would prefer to stay behind?” At this near-threat, Draco hurriedly grasped Snape’s arm and in another moment they vanished into thin air. Four seconds later, they were in the presence of the Dark Lord. Voldemort, despite his august personage, was sitting in an old wooden chair, with one of the back rungs broken (and this was the best chair in the room, too…) behind an unpolished, once ornate table… Wow! This fic is unfinished! They don’t call this site ‘Unfinished Fanfics’ for nothing!!! It will be continued though (someday) So you could say that it’s technically ‘Under Construction’
DISCLAIMER: I am
making no money off of this, and this site isn’t either. This is purely
fan-fiction written by a weird person who has absolutely nothing better to do
than write this stuff. I don’t own Harry Potter, Hogwarts, Snape, etc. J.K.R.
does. I don’t own Sherlock Holmes, but I believe now he is either public
domain. Anyhow, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle created him. I don’t own Erik the
Opera Ghost either—Gaston Leroux created him (or
simply wrote about him, I don’t know…) I don’t own Edward Scissorhands
either. (Sorry kids!) Tim Burton’s creation. And Franz List was a real
person, and he’s dead, so I don’t think he’ll very much care if I use him in
this story. And I make brief references to Star Wars, (George Lucas to thank
for that burst of genius, not me) and Weird Al Yankovic
(I’m not his pseudonym, I just think he’s funny!) nor as much do I have any
association with Pokemon/Pikachu etc. And if I
reference to anyone else that does not seem to be original, chances are, they
aren’t. But I do have some of my own original characters in here. Please
don’t take these! However, if you do, I can’t see what I can do about it.
Just refrain, please? |
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http://www.angelfire.com/planet/unfinishedfanfics/ My little corner of the World Wide Web--Cherry’s Place Home |