Sweets for the Vicious
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Adult +
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Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,174
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Sweets for the Vicious
Sweets for the Vicious
By Mortifyd
SS/GL It’s short and silly... so far.
Darklady did it to me again. I was just minding my own business and something simply EVIL slithered into my brain and said, “Chew on THIS!” So, being the total perv I am, I did. There may be future chapters as well.
Disclaimer: Everything in the Potterverse belongs to J. K. Rowling, I just like to play with her toys. Whee!
Everything was practically perfect. But then, he thought with a dazzling smile, how could he help it if everything he touched was perfect? He was Gilderoy Lockhart; Order of Merlin, Third Class and five-time winner of Witch-Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award after all. There was just one teensy little thing he needed to take care of before his wonderful surprise; finding the perfect gift for his Admirer.
Gilderoy just loved surprises. He suspected his Admirer did not, which was really a pity. He had such an air about him; brooding, mysterious, utterly delicious. This air of mystery did little to suggest gift-giving ideas, however. Nevertheless, he was confident that he could find just the perfect gift if he thought long and hard enough. That was what he was attempting to do when as he strolled down the main street of shops in Hogsmeawhenwhen it struck him. A flash of inspiration and insight, worthy of… well, worthy of Gilderoy Lockhart, of course.
“Nothing says Valentine’s Day like sweets,” he cheerfully burbled to himself as he stepped into Honeydukes. After making his entrance and signing a few autographs, which was really only to be expected, of course; he made his way around the shop looking for the perfect gift. There was just one problem; nothing seemed quite right, not even the variety in the far corner, marked Unusual Tastes. He pouted.
Just then, a lovely shop assistant came over and asked him if he needed assistance with a giggle and a blush. He was just explaining that he needed something Extraordinarily Special when she showed him to a small closed off section in the back, under a small nondescript sign that read Special Treats.
He found many gifts to choose from: Naughty Bits, which were anatomical chocolates and gummys in a variety of shapes, sizes and colours for every taste; Pok’er and Pok’im Pops, which took on the flavour of whomever they were applied to; Wizard Wands, Toffee Tits, little blue Potency Pastilles; in short, just the sort of things he was looking for. They even carried Edible Underthings, which licked back. He made his selections and walked out of the store with his money pouch significantly lighter, a large brown paper package tu und under one arm and a happy smile on his face. It was going to be perfect.
Snape was livid. He was also slightly nauseous and somewhat terrified, though he would never show it; not the terrified part anyway. He knew it was going to be a very long and very BAD day from the time he opened his chamber door.
Sometime during the night, Lockhart had applied a rather lurid coloured Valentine card to his door with some kind of semi-permanent Sticking Charm. As if that weren’t bad enough, as long as he was within ten feet of either side of the door the horrid thing made kissy noises and said, “Ssssseverussss Sssssnape issss a Sssssly Sssssexy Ssssslytherin!” every few seconds. Loudly. He fled.
It only got worse. At breakfast, Lockhart had actually suggested that the children accost him for Love Potions. He had pink confetti stuck in his hair and in between his molars as well, apparently he had neglected to brush off his toast adequately.
Then t wer were the dwarves. Miss Bulstrode had taken advantage of their services and he forcforced to endure a mushy, poorly rhymed love poem in front of a number of students when the little bastard had caught him. He couldn’t even take points, given that Slytherin needed to win the House Cup back from Gryffindor this year. It was going to be a very long day.
Luncheon was something to be endured just long enough to ingest the minimum to survive; though he questioned whether that was really a worthwhile goal, given how the day was going. He did remember to put a Repelling Charm over his person and plate and managed to avoid the confetti. He still had one stubborn piece stuck between his molars as an additional irritation, but given the mood he was in, he might charm his own teeth out in an effort to remove it.
Three more Slytherin girls and at least one boy had sent him singing Valentines; dwarves are not easily intimidated. He was about to hex the one that caught him in the Teachers Lounge into next week when Dumbledore came in and told him to play nicely, a twinkle in his eye. The sadist was actually enjoying this.
Finally classes were over. Dinner was mercifully confetti-less, though he spent more time scowling at his charges than he usually did; Miss Bulstrode kept turning a horrible shade of magenta every time she looked at him, which was far too often for his taste. He decided, Slytherin or not, the next time he had to endure ‘Oh, Severus, he’s the cleverest…’ from some harp carrying little bastard who barely came to his knees he was going to take points and start hexing, Dumbledore be damned.
After an hour he managed to get that ridiculous card off his door using an Explosive Hex, though it left an unsightly charred heart shaped burn deep in the wood. He was going to kill Gilderoy Lockhart. Slowly.
The day had been smashing. Gilderoy knew that it would do the trick, all this nasty petrifying business had put such a damper on everything. He had personally received one hundred and forty two Valentines; not his best, but children could be so bashful. He was slightly miffed that Severus hadn’t sent one, but then he is a bit of a shy fellow, he thought with a grin.
“I’ll bet he’s just saving it for this evening,” he said to his dazzling reflection with a wink. He hummed to himself as he finished dressing; he had a date. Inside the card he had written a note, letting Severus know he would pop down around nine o’ cloo gio give him his prezzies. He checked his reflection one last time and headed out the door, package under his arm. It was going to be perfect.
Snape had just poured his third double of the evening when there was a knock at his door. He was not in the mood to entertain, but the foolish and possibly suicidal person pounding on the door simply wouldn\'t go away. He tossed back his drink, drew his wand and flung open the door.
He looked divine. He’d taken off that jacket with all those delicious buttons, his shirt half open, hair flying about his face, eyes flashing with passion; Gilderoy was enthralled. He swept into the room, nearly knocking the man over. So eager! he thought with a happy smile.
“There, there, Severus, plenty of time,” he chortled, “no need to fling yourself at me!” He set the package down on the bed and made himself at home by the fire. Snape was still standing near the door, wand in hand, a look of horror on his face. He d hid his wand and the door slammed shut, then turned on Lockhart.
“WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU DOINDOING?” he thundered. Lockhart blinked.
“Er, what do you mean, Severus?” This wasn’t what he expected at all. He’d suddenly noticed Snape had his wand pointed at him in a very unfriendly manner. Not the wand he was expecting, either. “I told you in my note I would bring down your presents this evening,” he said with a little pout.
“WHAT NOTE?” he yelled. AT LAT LURID, SHRIEKING THING YOU CHARMED TO MY DOOR?” He took a deep breath when it finally registered what Lockhart had said. “Presents?” he asked blankly, right before he passed out.
“This isn’t going well at all,” Gilderoy murmured; he fixed himself a little drink and looked at his Admirer, out cold on the floor. This simply wouldn’t do. He whipped out his wand and used the Locomotor Charm to move Snape onto the bed with a sigh.
No point in messing up his robes, given that Severus was currently drooling on one of the pillows. Short of forcing a Hangover potion down the man’s throat, the evening was a bust. He rummaged around for a quill and parchment, wrote a quick note and left. So much for perfect.
Snape awoke several hours later, feeling like he had lain in a motorway and been hit by a long line of lorries. On the plus side, he was still dressed and Lockhart was gone. He got to his feet and lurched to the cabinet, downing a Hangover potion with a grimace.
Once he felt a little more like himself he surveyed his domain. He noted sourly that Lockhart had riffled through his cabinet and bookshelves. The note lay on the table by the decanter, that flowery script was unmistakable. He opened it.
Severus –
It seems I missed the party. Sweets for the vicious, enjoy.
– Gilderoy
Snape opened the package. He sneered as he looked at the contents, flipping them in the bin one at a time, until he reached the bottom of the parcel. He smirked and put the Edible Underthings in the bureau. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a bad day after all.
By Mortifyd
SS/GL It’s short and silly... so far.
Darklady did it to me again. I was just minding my own business and something simply EVIL slithered into my brain and said, “Chew on THIS!” So, being the total perv I am, I did. There may be future chapters as well.
Disclaimer: Everything in the Potterverse belongs to J. K. Rowling, I just like to play with her toys. Whee!
Everything was practically perfect. But then, he thought with a dazzling smile, how could he help it if everything he touched was perfect? He was Gilderoy Lockhart; Order of Merlin, Third Class and five-time winner of Witch-Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award after all. There was just one teensy little thing he needed to take care of before his wonderful surprise; finding the perfect gift for his Admirer.
Gilderoy just loved surprises. He suspected his Admirer did not, which was really a pity. He had such an air about him; brooding, mysterious, utterly delicious. This air of mystery did little to suggest gift-giving ideas, however. Nevertheless, he was confident that he could find just the perfect gift if he thought long and hard enough. That was what he was attempting to do when as he strolled down the main street of shops in Hogsmeawhenwhen it struck him. A flash of inspiration and insight, worthy of… well, worthy of Gilderoy Lockhart, of course.
“Nothing says Valentine’s Day like sweets,” he cheerfully burbled to himself as he stepped into Honeydukes. After making his entrance and signing a few autographs, which was really only to be expected, of course; he made his way around the shop looking for the perfect gift. There was just one problem; nothing seemed quite right, not even the variety in the far corner, marked Unusual Tastes. He pouted.
Just then, a lovely shop assistant came over and asked him if he needed assistance with a giggle and a blush. He was just explaining that he needed something Extraordinarily Special when she showed him to a small closed off section in the back, under a small nondescript sign that read Special Treats.
He found many gifts to choose from: Naughty Bits, which were anatomical chocolates and gummys in a variety of shapes, sizes and colours for every taste; Pok’er and Pok’im Pops, which took on the flavour of whomever they were applied to; Wizard Wands, Toffee Tits, little blue Potency Pastilles; in short, just the sort of things he was looking for. They even carried Edible Underthings, which licked back. He made his selections and walked out of the store with his money pouch significantly lighter, a large brown paper package tu und under one arm and a happy smile on his face. It was going to be perfect.
Snape was livid. He was also slightly nauseous and somewhat terrified, though he would never show it; not the terrified part anyway. He knew it was going to be a very long and very BAD day from the time he opened his chamber door.
Sometime during the night, Lockhart had applied a rather lurid coloured Valentine card to his door with some kind of semi-permanent Sticking Charm. As if that weren’t bad enough, as long as he was within ten feet of either side of the door the horrid thing made kissy noises and said, “Ssssseverussss Sssssnape issss a Sssssly Sssssexy Ssssslytherin!” every few seconds. Loudly. He fled.
It only got worse. At breakfast, Lockhart had actually suggested that the children accost him for Love Potions. He had pink confetti stuck in his hair and in between his molars as well, apparently he had neglected to brush off his toast adequately.
Then t wer were the dwarves. Miss Bulstrode had taken advantage of their services and he forcforced to endure a mushy, poorly rhymed love poem in front of a number of students when the little bastard had caught him. He couldn’t even take points, given that Slytherin needed to win the House Cup back from Gryffindor this year. It was going to be a very long day.
Luncheon was something to be endured just long enough to ingest the minimum to survive; though he questioned whether that was really a worthwhile goal, given how the day was going. He did remember to put a Repelling Charm over his person and plate and managed to avoid the confetti. He still had one stubborn piece stuck between his molars as an additional irritation, but given the mood he was in, he might charm his own teeth out in an effort to remove it.
Three more Slytherin girls and at least one boy had sent him singing Valentines; dwarves are not easily intimidated. He was about to hex the one that caught him in the Teachers Lounge into next week when Dumbledore came in and told him to play nicely, a twinkle in his eye. The sadist was actually enjoying this.
Finally classes were over. Dinner was mercifully confetti-less, though he spent more time scowling at his charges than he usually did; Miss Bulstrode kept turning a horrible shade of magenta every time she looked at him, which was far too often for his taste. He decided, Slytherin or not, the next time he had to endure ‘Oh, Severus, he’s the cleverest…’ from some harp carrying little bastard who barely came to his knees he was going to take points and start hexing, Dumbledore be damned.
After an hour he managed to get that ridiculous card off his door using an Explosive Hex, though it left an unsightly charred heart shaped burn deep in the wood. He was going to kill Gilderoy Lockhart. Slowly.
The day had been smashing. Gilderoy knew that it would do the trick, all this nasty petrifying business had put such a damper on everything. He had personally received one hundred and forty two Valentines; not his best, but children could be so bashful. He was slightly miffed that Severus hadn’t sent one, but then he is a bit of a shy fellow, he thought with a grin.
“I’ll bet he’s just saving it for this evening,” he said to his dazzling reflection with a wink. He hummed to himself as he finished dressing; he had a date. Inside the card he had written a note, letting Severus know he would pop down around nine o’ cloo gio give him his prezzies. He checked his reflection one last time and headed out the door, package under his arm. It was going to be perfect.
Snape had just poured his third double of the evening when there was a knock at his door. He was not in the mood to entertain, but the foolish and possibly suicidal person pounding on the door simply wouldn\'t go away. He tossed back his drink, drew his wand and flung open the door.
He looked divine. He’d taken off that jacket with all those delicious buttons, his shirt half open, hair flying about his face, eyes flashing with passion; Gilderoy was enthralled. He swept into the room, nearly knocking the man over. So eager! he thought with a happy smile.
“There, there, Severus, plenty of time,” he chortled, “no need to fling yourself at me!” He set the package down on the bed and made himself at home by the fire. Snape was still standing near the door, wand in hand, a look of horror on his face. He d hid his wand and the door slammed shut, then turned on Lockhart.
“WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU DOINDOING?” he thundered. Lockhart blinked.
“Er, what do you mean, Severus?” This wasn’t what he expected at all. He’d suddenly noticed Snape had his wand pointed at him in a very unfriendly manner. Not the wand he was expecting, either. “I told you in my note I would bring down your presents this evening,” he said with a little pout.
“WHAT NOTE?” he yelled. AT LAT LURID, SHRIEKING THING YOU CHARMED TO MY DOOR?” He took a deep breath when it finally registered what Lockhart had said. “Presents?” he asked blankly, right before he passed out.
“This isn’t going well at all,” Gilderoy murmured; he fixed himself a little drink and looked at his Admirer, out cold on the floor. This simply wouldn’t do. He whipped out his wand and used the Locomotor Charm to move Snape onto the bed with a sigh.
No point in messing up his robes, given that Severus was currently drooling on one of the pillows. Short of forcing a Hangover potion down the man’s throat, the evening was a bust. He rummaged around for a quill and parchment, wrote a quick note and left. So much for perfect.
Snape awoke several hours later, feeling like he had lain in a motorway and been hit by a long line of lorries. On the plus side, he was still dressed and Lockhart was gone. He got to his feet and lurched to the cabinet, downing a Hangover potion with a grimace.
Once he felt a little more like himself he surveyed his domain. He noted sourly that Lockhart had riffled through his cabinet and bookshelves. The note lay on the table by the decanter, that flowery script was unmistakable. He opened it.
Severus –
It seems I missed the party. Sweets for the vicious, enjoy.
– Gilderoy
Snape opened the package. He sneered as he looked at the contents, flipping them in the bin one at a time, until he reached the bottom of the parcel. He smirked and put the Edible Underthings in the bureau. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a bad day after all.