1995-10-17: Jasmine and Scribbles


Snape_icon.gif Siobhan_icon.gifRon_icon.gif

Scene Title Jasmine and Scribbles
Synopsis Ron has detention. Siobhan distracts him. Snape is Snape.
Location Potions Classroom
Date Oct 17, 1995
Watch For Pedantic attitude, long legs, and bad spelling.
Logger Severus Snape

Snape has been back for less than a day and is already handing out detentions. He strides into the classroom, robes swirling behind him. He gazes impassively at the storeroom, then stalks off toward his office. He grabs a long scroll of parchment and a quill. It's a risky proposition, but it's what needs done the most. He summons a bottle of ink from the office with a quiet flick of his wand, and sets up the area for detention. Now, all he needs is the student.

It's with a small — okay, amazingly large sense of dread that Ron follows the steps down to the dungeons, his detention with Snape less than two minutes away. First day back and he's already scored one. Fred and George would be proud. Adjusting his pack hanging off of his shoulder, Ron looses his tie slightly before taking a deep gulp as he arrives level with Snape's classroom. Taking a deep breath, he heads in, dreading whatever horrible, ill-fitting punishment the Potions master sees fit to bestow on him. "Professor." He resists the temptation to add "Snivellus" under his breath.

"Weasley." Snape intones, gesturing to the desk where parchment and quill is laid out. "I trust you can write in a legible fashion?" Ron's handwriting, to Snape's practiced eye, is marginally better than Potter's untidy scrawl. It's going to be interesting to see how this goes. "Your previous professor saw fit to execute a reorganization of my stores. You," Snape intones, leaning in toward the boy, "will help me rectify this atrocity." He moves to pull small glass phials and jars from the counter. "Every single one of these needs a new label. I shall read it off to you. You shall copy it down. Legibly. If not, you shall redo it. If you need assistance spelling the name of the ingredient, inform me immediately. I do not want to have the added bonus of erroneous spelling while deciphering my own labels." Yep. Snape is back.

Shifting his eyes to the desk, it's with an almost imperceptible sigh that Ron makes his way over to it, letting his pack fall to the ground as he takes a seat. It's with a growing look of disgust that he hears about his assignment, even if he is trying to keep a straight face. It's not working out so well. "I—" Ron begins, but cuts himself short as Snape continues on. All of those phials? Bloody hell. This is going to be so much fun! Only not. "Yes, Professor," Ron responds, eyes falling to the quill in front of him.

First day back and already detention! Siobhan had engaged the excitable Flitwick in conversation over dinner and had been told - with a mildly obnoxious twinkle in his eye - that it was good to see things back the way they should be. When she inquired further and discovered that Snape had already given a detention for that evening - and to Ronald Weasley, of all people - she heaved a sigh and kissed her night of a good book and a long, hot bath goodbye.

So it is that now, just as Ron settles into his seat, the youngest professor on Hogwarts' staff is breezing through the dungeon corridors towards her own rooms. Pausing at the corner she must turn down, she frowns. No yelling? This can't be good. The detour into her rooms to grab the bag of plainly wrapped, neatly stacked packages doesn't take long, but it's still another moment or two before she breezes into the mostly-empty classroom.

Snape is just beginning to look through all the phials. "Asphodel." He gestures to the paper. "Surely you can remember how to spell that. Miss …. Professor Noble. Welcome to my classroom. What brings you into my domain?" The teacher's tone is dry, drier than it usually is. "I am administering a detention." She can see that, but pedantic, it works. He notes the packages in her arms. "Who graced the world with their presence on this particular day?" In other words, are those presents for someone specific?

Scratching down what Snape calls out (and no, he doesn't exactly know how to spell it but like he's going to give Snape that satisfaction), Ron only looks up when a new person enters the room and Snape addresses her. Professor Noble, how amus— what? It all makes sense now— and even then, for Ron, this may be record timing. What she said the other night in the astronomy tower, plus the fact she was eating meals with the staff… she's actually a Professor now? Ron grins slightly at the thought, but then as the truth really sinks in, the grin turns to a near grimace. Not because he dislikes Siobhan or anything like that, but to have her actually teaching classes … that's a scary thought.

"A-S-P-H-O-D-E-L." Siobhan keeps her answer light and automatic - and after so many years under Snape's tutelage, who'd argue? - but she does throw Ron a grin and a wink as she catches that look of dawning horror. See? She's helping! Subtly, though, so he might not catch it. Oh well. She presses further into Snape's 'domain' with an easy assurance to her gait and posture that had been missing when last he saw her. "Actually, both questions have the same answer." Her mouth twitches up into a smug sort of smile, but that's the only hint she gives of actually appreciating the humor in his queries. The packages are set out in neat rows on his desk and she does a quick visual count before nodding sharply, satisfied. "The jasmine blossoms smelled wrong." Which had confused Jack to no end because he hadn't smelled a thing off about them. "And the … 'gentleman' behind the counter refused to bring out fresher ones, but everything else on the list is here."

"Miss Noble." He rolls his eyes as she spells out the ingredient. "They did not smell right?" That's kind of odd. Snape frowns, turning his attention to the packages. "Bubotuber Pus." The next ingredient. There are other A ingredients, of course, but this is next in line, apparently. "Hmmm." It serves in lieu of a 'thank you', and his expression shows that for a moment. "I shall see to that myself, then. If he has fresher blossoms, I shall discover it." His expression turns feral. "Bowtruckle Droppings." Moving right along.

The only Gryffindor in the room stares, eyes flicking back and forth between Snape and Siobhan as if it were some sort of Muggle movie. It takes him a moment before he realizes he should be writing down what Snape says onto the labels. He begins to do so, but then pauses— is he supposed to be writing these down? He's looking at the packages, but… "I bet Harry never has to put up with this," he mutters to himself.

"Not at all. They smelled like some old lady's half-rotten perfume." Which, to be fair, might just be how jasmine smells when your sense of smell is as sensitive as Siobhan's is right now. She catches the momentary expression of gratitude and inclines her head. There's a Gryffindor student in the room - for detention, no less - right now, so some silent communication is fine by her. His shift to a feral expression, however, ignites a wolfish sort of grin that slowly spreads across her face. Hopping up to sit on a free corner of his desk, she crosses one leg over the other and tugs down the short grey dress. It doesn't prevent her legs from showing between the folds of her open robe - or the knee-high black dragonhide boots - but it does keep her modesty intact. What's that Ron? You need to concentrate on your detention work and not the bare legs of your new professor? Sorry, didn't catch that. "I've got to go into Hogsmeade tomorrow to pick up some of my things out of Jack's office. I'll look there." You know, trying somewhere else before sending the Wrath of Snape down on some poor Knockturn Alley shopkeeper. She seems to finally realize just what it is Snape's having poor Ronald do for his detention and wrinkles her nose. "Was the stockroom that empty?" She hadn't thought they'd used that much of the ingredients last term, but with Moldavia teaching, who knows!

"Overripened then." Severus Snape has smelled overripened Jasmine Blossoms, and is intrigued that Siobhan is able to smell them. She never used to have this ability, or if she did, she didn't say a thing to him. "Stop distracting my student, Professor." Snape chides, but there is an overlay of amusement faintly hidden in the harsh words. Or will be if one listens closely. "No, the storeroom appears to be adequately filled, apart from these few things you acquired for me." He stops, moving around toward his desk to pull something out. He fishes a couple coins out of a small coinpurse, and moves back around to monitor Ron's progress, flipping the coins toward Sio with a deft hand. They'll land near her, close enough for her to grab, but only if she reaches. Otherwise, they'll clatter to the floor. "Weasley! Eyes on your work." He picks up a small — albeit heavy — book, and whacks the boy on the back of the head. "Write those down." Yes, he was meant to be writing them. "Professor Moldavia thought it might be amusing to label all of my stores in … " He holds out one of the old labels. The letters are from the Cyrillic alphabet. "I was resigned to completing this task alone, but then," he pauses, leaning in to hiss at Ron, "Mister Weasley so graciously offered to help me." His lips thin, and he turns back toward Siobhan, explaining the money. "Repayment for the purchases. If you are able to find the ingredient, that would be most helpful."

His first day back, and Ron not only finds himself in detention with Snape of all people, his (apparently) new Professor is here as well causing quite the distraction. Jumping slightly at Snape's sudden snap in his direction, followed by a hearty whap to the back of his head, it's with a zen-like focus that he concentrates on the task at hand, dipping his quill in ink and scratching the names of ingredients onto bottles. What was that last one? Bubotuber Pus? He'd like to drop a whole cauldron of that right on Snape's greasy head. Smirking slightly to himself, Ron finds his eyes slowly moving in Siobhan's direction, and he snaps them back to focus on the bottle. He holds it much closer than actually needed, keeping his eyes straight ahead on the current phial.

Siobhan always listens closely in conversations with Snape. It's the only way to effectively and efficiently communicate with the man. Otherwise he runs rings around your brain and leaves you choking on dust. And then mocks you. It's good mental exercise, sure, but it's also so much more fun this way. So yes, she catches the amusement, but it doesn't quite erase the harshness. Rolling her eyes and muttering something under her breath that sounds a lot like 'spoilsport', she nevertheless grabs the edges of her robe and pulls them over her legs. The movement may be ever so slightly exaggerated and the look she gives him may very well be a silently dry expression of 'There, happy now?' but she does listen.

Everything is in this weird mode of hyper-sensitivity, so naturally good reflexes are augmented by heightened awareness of her surroundings. It makes it pitifully easy to catch the coins, even if it does mean she has to re-close the long robe after doing so. She nods and then waits for him to be distracted by book-bashing a ginger, using that momentary reprieve to reach behind her and ever-so-subtly slip the coins back underneath one of the stacks of parchment near the packages behind her. Sneaky Sio is Sneaky. She does feel kind of bad about both the fact that she caused and the fact that she shamelessly used Ron's injury, so she intercedes on his behalf. Subtly. "Man, she's really got it in for you. What'd you do to her?" She can weather Snape's temper better than most anyone - and certainly better than a young Gryffindor - so getting him annoyed with her might just do the trick.

Snape catches her look, of course. This weird quiet communication goes two ways. He nods once, ever so slightly, and returns to watching Ron write words. "Bu-bo-tu-ber," he intnes slowly, as though speaking to one much slower than he. "Pus. Just one s. Write it again. Surely you know how to spell Bow-truck-le." He shakes his head. "I exist," he replies dryly to Siobhan. He is on to her scheming ways, though he'll allow her the free rein for now. "Drop-pings." He continues. "Cerberus Drop-pings. Cerberus. It sounds as though it begins with a S. It does not." When Severus becomes this pedantic, there's a problem.

With Snape breathing down his neck, Ron does his best to keep his cool and write down the names as he spells them out. He listens to the back and forth banter of Snape and Siobhan as he does, wondering why someone would even WANT to be around Snape unless they were forced too. Strange, strange girl that one. He continues his work, until finally the way in which Snape's speaking to him finally gets the best of him. "I'm not that thick," he says, looking up at Snape — and instantly regretting it. Great. More detention.

"B-O-W-T-R-U-C-K-L-E," Siobhan supples oh-so-helpfully. She supplies one of her best charming, winning smiles - already anticipating Snape's Look for her interruption. "Ahh, but are you sure you exist? Maybe she's mad because you don't really exist at all." Siobhan has no clue - as she hops up off the desk corner and uses both hands to smooth down the front of her robes - just how close to the mark she actually is. "Yes you are, Ron. All students are." Her tone is light and teasing. She likes this Weasley, even when he does stick his foot in his mouth about Slytherins. "It's a 'C', in case you were wondering."

Snape obliges her. The Look is given. "Perhaps. But if she perceives the matter in that way, she is sadly mistaken." He's back, and he's where he belongs for now. "Mister Weasley, we will continue this tomorrow night. You have wasted entirely too much time…" Or maybe it's Siobhan who's wasted the time. Who knows? "Your attitude still needs to be addressed, Mister Weasley, so tomorrow night at this time it is. Professor Noble, excuse me. Weasley, finish off that row of ingredients, and I shall come by to collect the labels." He glances down at them, scowling. He may have to have another detention student — one with a clearer hand — do the rest of the work. There are new ingredients to prepare. Perhaps Weasley would be better suited to that task.

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