What Trot
The fire crackled.
Heavy snow fell outside. The quiet loudness of a heavy snow drowned out by the thick walls that held in the heat from the fire. A page turned with a small rustle of paper against the calloused finger of the man who turned it. Somewhere behind the dark brooding looking man ticked an old grandfather clock, tucked away in a corner of the traditionally Victorian study.
Severus Snape sat reading, every once in a while the clinking of a glass could be heard as he brought a worn teacup to his lips, eyes never leaving the page he was taking in. A soft snort disturbed the liquid in the cup as a couple of drops splashed onto the page and he placed the cup down and wiped his mouth.
“ What trot” he breathed as he put the magazine he had been reading down. One the upturned cover was a woman in a suggestive position dressed in what looked to be some sort of period dress, yet suggestive enough to reveal the contents of the book in mention. Hogwart’s more severe professor and master of potions partaking in the reading of magical harlequin books…a genre that he had found when he was a younger boy in Cokesworth. He had been secretive about his…enjoyment of such books for much of his life until he had become a professor and at the dining table he found himself beside two unlikely proveyers of these sort of books and he would over hear their whispers…not that Pomona Sprout was a quiet whisper…he was sure mandrakes were getting her now and again. Sinistra how been a surprise. The Astrology professor never seemed like the type. Anytime they would suggest something, he would of course send and owl off for it as well, not that they ever knew.
Standing from his chair he stretched out his back, his hand going to it as his white night shirt hung loose on him as it was untucked from his lounge trousers.
“ How is this book any good…sniveling simps is all it is…I could write better drivel than that” he growled as he poured himself another drink. Standing there for a moment his thoughts ran through his head and he slowly brought the glass to his lips.
“ I could..” He stated contemplatively before shaking his head and downing the rest of the brown liquid and putting the glass down.
“Bah” he stated before turning away from the retched book and storming into his sleeping quarters. He was up later than he had wanted to be. He wanted to get a head start on his trip to London in the morning and the last thing he needed to be was tired. Apperation tired him out more than it once had and his neck scars ached wildly if he did it too much in a small amount of time.
Settling into his black sheets he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. This however sent images flying past his closed eyes of stories in his head that he had already written out…out of pure love of the genre. He could write a book to rival all that dribble he had just be subjected too…he had a good mind to storm up to either professors rooms and demand to know how they could be drawn in by such nonsense after countless good reads they had led him to. He however just huffed and sat up in his bed.
There would be no sleep that night.