Red Strokes

"Oh come off it Hermione, he doesn't even read them," Ron said a little louder than he should have. Madame Pince, the strict librarian, glared at him menacingly.

"Honestly, of course he reads them. How else could he grade them?" Hermione said in a whisper.

"Oh he throws darts at them," Dean said knowingly. Everyone gave him a curious look. "I've been finding little pinholes in my essays since first year and their graded according to where the pinhole is."

"That's rubbish," she spat. "I know he reads them, he writes comments in the margins."

"Well yeah, he writes really broad comments like 'needs more thought' and 'should be longer'," Dean responded.

Madame Pince had walked to their table and made the shushing noise that she reserved for particularly loudy groups.

"What a bastard though," said Ron in a whisper as Madame Pince walked over to another table to tell off a group of giggling third years. "He makes us write one dreadful essay on a stupid potion then assigns another one the next night. What a waste of time, I could be playing quidditch right now."

Oh please Ron, review is necessary if we're going to pass our N.E.W.T examinations," she said testily. "What's wrong with you Harry?" Everyone turned to look at him.

Harry, who had been rather quiet before now, looked up in surprise. He was starring down at the piece of parchment that held his previous essay, the one that Snape had returned right before they went to the library.

"Did you get a bad mark?" asked Ron. "Not that it matters, as long as we pass our N.E.W.T's we'll be out of here in a month. Don't worry about it mate, you're sure to pass that exam."

Harry got to his feet and grabbed his bag hastily. Everyone looked to him for an explaination as soon as he was on his feet. "Er...I've got a headache from all this homework, I'm going to go up to the dormitory and lay down," he said rather lamely. Hermione, who knew something more serious was wrong gave him a knowing look and nodded. Ron slapped him on the back and told him to take it easy as they would soon graduate and never have to do homework again.

*~*~*~*~*
THE PREVIOUS NIGHT

Severus sighed deeply as he entered his office. He flopped the stack of parchment on his desk and poured himself a large scotch from the liquor cabinet. It had been a long day with no clear sight in end. After enduring the Creevy brothers, who both had a knack for lighting things on fire, and Professor McGonagall's constant rambling in the teachers lounge, now Severus had to grade these 7th year essays. Not that he actually read them or anything, in fact, he generally threw things at them or tacked them to the wall and graded them by how well they suited his other decor.

So he sat and started randomly throwing the pieces of parchment around the room, seeing which ones landed closest to what furniture. Once he'd tossed half of them around the office he noticed one work on an essay that caught his attention. Oddly enough, it was the word 'sex' and he wondered momentarily if he'd read it wrong. No, there it was again. Then he looked at the name on the top and winced, Harry Potter was told to write about the uses of an energy potion. Had he dared say that it could be used for long lasting sex? It was true of course, but it isn't something you'd put into a school paper.

Then his eyes flicked back to the paper and he began reading the untidy scrawl.

"Energy potions can be used for a great many things in the magical world. The ingredients include mugwart, unicorn hair and other euphoria inducing...I know you're not ever going to read this. You've never once read a single essay of mine so I'm just going to pretend you're going to read this one. I have a few things to say that I need to get off of my chest."

Snape sighed again and braced himself for the idiocy that he was certain would follow. He could imagine it now, Potter whinning about how he'd been such a terrible git and how he was greasy and had a long nose. All sorts of rubbish that at least one unfortunate seventh year tries to tell Snape every year.

"I look at you sometimes when you aren't paying attention. I've seen you looking at me too. I like to look at your hands when you make potions, they're strong and callused. I like your hair when it's not draped over your eyes, you have pretty eyes and you shouldn't cover them."

Severus nearly dropped his glass of scotch in alarm. This was madness, it had to be a joke. Against all good sense, he couldn't help but read on.

"I want to touch your hair, run my fingers through it while you touch my body. I want to feel those callused hands on me, touching me."

This time he dropped the scotch and had to siphon up the remaining liquid from the floor with his wand. He repaired the broken glass and sat down to massage his temples. His eyes flickered to the paper, there was more to read. He reached out a hand and then drew it back. He was incredibly aware of the increasing discomfort in his slacks. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to shake out the cobwebs that the day must have given him. This was all some sick joke. He reached for his quill and unstopped his bottle of red ink. Poised with the quill in his hand he finished reading the essay.

"It's no joke, I want this. I want your cock inside of me, I want mine inside of you. I want to have sex with you. I'm not totally inexperienced. I wish you would stop being such a bastard all the time and see what's around you. See that I adore you and that I want you to touch me just as bad as you do."

It ended there. Severus dipped his quill into his inkwell and wrote in very tidy script. "Ending too abrupt. Used the word 'I' far too often, it isn't always about what you want Potter. I like my hair in my eyes, it means I don't have to look at the rest of your classmates."

The rest of the night was spent randomly grading essays, but as Minerva noticed the next day, there was a bit of a spring in his step.