Post by Samantha Snape on Oct 7, 2011 21:07:57 GMT -5
It was a normal day in the Hogwarts library. Some students were milling about the shelves, talking in whispers so as not to raise the ire of the librarian. Some were studying, having exams coming up, or just wanting to get a good mark on some test or other. Others just browsed the shelves, looking for a book to read for recreational purposes. And some – they might be regarded as the unlucky few – had fallen asleep at their work at one of the tables scattered about the library. A certain redhead Slytherin was one of these unlucky few. She had been studying for her upcoming O.W.L. exams, along with doing some private research for the Potions Mistress, as she was apprenticed to the elder woman.
Sam had been woken up by the sound of rain starting to pour outside, which had most of the other students clearing out. It was rumored that the librarian, Madam Pince, was in an even fouler mood when the weather changed so suddenly. It almost seemed, some had said, that she thought the heavens had it out for each and every one of her books. The young Snape, however, didn’t believe any of this. It was all just superstition and gossip students had made up to amuse themselves during long days when there was randomly nothing to do. Besides, even if the rumors were true, the vulture-like woman could be no worse than her own father when he was irate about something.
Brushing her long, blood-hued hair from her pale, bony face – some of it was just too randomly cut to stay in the ponytail she had placed the majority of it in – the Chaser got back to her work. As usual these days, her long, tapered fingers were perpetually stained with ink. This was half from her having begun to keep a journal of her thoughts, and half from the fact that she was writing more in her essays, and working harder than she ever had to date on her schoolwork. Noticing what she had fallen asleep on, Sam smirked a bit. So, she had been about to start an essay for her father’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class, eh? Well, this ought to be interesting…
And then, it occurred to her that she had forgotten the topic on which the essay was supposed to be written. ”Oh, bugger,” she muttered, her smirk quickly becoming a scowl. Interesting indeed! She had to figure out how to stop jinxing herself… Shoving the unneeded thoughts from her mind, the redhead dug in her school bag (she thanked God no-one had taken it while she was dead to the world) for her notes from the class during which the essay had been assigned. They were in there somewhere, she just knew it. They just had to be – she would be very well screwed without them.
Of course, now it was just a matter of finding them…
Sam had been woken up by the sound of rain starting to pour outside, which had most of the other students clearing out. It was rumored that the librarian, Madam Pince, was in an even fouler mood when the weather changed so suddenly. It almost seemed, some had said, that she thought the heavens had it out for each and every one of her books. The young Snape, however, didn’t believe any of this. It was all just superstition and gossip students had made up to amuse themselves during long days when there was randomly nothing to do. Besides, even if the rumors were true, the vulture-like woman could be no worse than her own father when he was irate about something.
Brushing her long, blood-hued hair from her pale, bony face – some of it was just too randomly cut to stay in the ponytail she had placed the majority of it in – the Chaser got back to her work. As usual these days, her long, tapered fingers were perpetually stained with ink. This was half from her having begun to keep a journal of her thoughts, and half from the fact that she was writing more in her essays, and working harder than she ever had to date on her schoolwork. Noticing what she had fallen asleep on, Sam smirked a bit. So, she had been about to start an essay for her father’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class, eh? Well, this ought to be interesting…
And then, it occurred to her that she had forgotten the topic on which the essay was supposed to be written. ”Oh, bugger,” she muttered, her smirk quickly becoming a scowl. Interesting indeed! She had to figure out how to stop jinxing herself… Shoving the unneeded thoughts from her mind, the redhead dug in her school bag (she thanked God no-one had taken it while she was dead to the world) for her notes from the class during which the essay had been assigned. They were in there somewhere, she just knew it. They just had to be – she would be very well screwed without them.
Of course, now it was just a matter of finding them…
