The Morning Star
folder
Harry Potter Crossovers › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
10
Views:
7,969
Reviews:
18
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter Crossovers › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
10
Views:
7,969
Reviews:
18
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own The Twelve Kingdoms either. I do not make any money from these writings.
The Morning Star
A/N Hello, everyone. WOW, I just feel great! The thing is because of my perverse tendencies and love that I feel towards The Twelve Kingdoms and Severus Snape, I have always wanted to read a story like this one. So I thought, why not write one myself ? And the "Morning star" was born. Kinda, lame title but I call it Hmmm on my computer - so this is better. I hope.
I also wanted to warn you the WIP is a very very important warning. I will try to update every two weeks, but with the upcoming term paper this semester and lab work... ( Oh, my god! Oh my god! My first term paper ! Starts running around, hits her head and bleeds to death. -I wish. )
So anyway, please enjoy!
The Awakening
In a small Spartan looking room without windows, on a single bed – that once belonged to the hospital wing, but had been discarded when 'Reparo' spell no longer worked on it – a tired pale man was laying curled in a fetus pose. Greasy black hair draped across the grey pillow like a halo, bare hairless legs and arms covered in goose bums, a worn out cotton nightwear too wide on his thin frame, and the fluttering of his thick eyelashes – all made notorious professor look so vulnerable and childish it was hardly believable.
But, stranger even than the male’s seemingly defenseless appearance, which on its’ own was rather unusual sight to witness, was the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest.
His thick grey blanket was dropped on the stone floor and the old fireplace hadn’t been used for a considerately long time. And despite his obvious discomfort the Light’s spy did not wake. That was … odd, indeed.
While Hogwarts potions master was notorious for many things, sleeping was never one of them. As often as not he would spend days, sometimes even weeks, avoiding that one necessity suspended only by energy potions and his will power. Spying for Order of the Phoenix, stalking the corridors on a night-watch, teaching brats the art of potions and then checking their essays that were at best nothing more but a repeated summaries of books, collecting ingredients in the forbidden forest or making potions for lord Voldemort and Poppy. He barely found time to eat meals, let alone sleep, was man’s usual excuse to himself and to those few that cared for his wellbeing. Empty bottles of dreamless sleep potion, would have cared to object, had any living or unliving person understood their language or dared to check potions master’s closet. Alas, no such crazy soul existed in Hogwarts.
Not that they ever worked. Regrettably, the only stronger potion was the drought of the living dead not an option for somebody, who cared little for playing the sleeping beauty. Thus, even when tired beyond reason and doused in potions – paranoid spy would usually wake up from a simple flicker of light, a sound of footsteps in the corridor or even a minor change in the room’s temperature. Not really a good nights sleep, but at least it was dreamless.
Suddenly, tall shelves full of books, potions, ingredients and strange alchemical appliances, a small desk covered with student essays and research notes, an old wardrobe, a closet, a fireplace, bare stone walls and the old blanket, the bed – all a things in the small room were illuminated by mysterious golden light radiating from man’s figure. This inner glow distorted Snape’s contour and made it seem blurred, unclear, twisted. Or was it that for once man’s true form could be truly seen, too bright to be hidden by the shell that was his body.
XXX
Severus Snape woke up form excruciating pain that was radiating from his left forehead and consuming his whole body. Delirious, he fell from the bed. Knees and palms aching form the hard impact, droplets of cold sweat glistening on his forehead like a diadem of diamonds man blindly reached for a wand lying under the pillow. Guided entirely by reflex he pressed its’ tip it across the angry red tattoo, whispered something and disapparated.
Even through the mist of agony Severus Snape knew that something was wrong. Not that agony was good, by any case, but it was something the spy was already used to.
The air was thick with shadows of pain and residues of tainted magic. They had always been there, these echoes from the past, new was only his ability, no the awareness of being able to sense, to see with the corners of his eyes, how it was swirling, curling, condensing at the center of room bellow the throne. Not only that, in front of him there stood a human with a soul so twisted and mutilated, it made him unwittingly recoil. Then guilt washed over him, and a wish to help. But, those were simple emotions – suppressing them was something he exceeded at. It was the part where he realized that he had to prostate before the thing that made it tricky. For some reason, the thought was appalling, wrong on too many levels, something he just couldn’t do, the consequences be damned. Like a deer in headlights Snape stood in front of a pitiable soul, frozen from pain. The impurity of the place was making it hard for him to even breath, let alone move. So sickening in was, he managed to stand it only for a few seconds, before letting his consciousness go.
XXX
The experience of drinking unicorn’s blood enabled the Dark Lord to see Auras. As it was, he has indeed been pleasantly surprised when a figure of golden light suddenly appeared in front of him. It instinctively retreated from his persona stumbled and then fell on the hard marble floor.
„Sweet...warm light...Can I devour...it...massster...” Hissed Nagini, with all the immpatience a snake can express.
A sudden rage flashed through the Dark lord, so intense he reached for his wand and pointed it at Nagini, with all the intention to kill it. To kill a horcux, a part of himself. It was disturbing ...and intriguing. „...No. Ssstay Here. ”
Approaching the being lord Voldemort found himself staring at somebody that vaguely reminded him of his favorite potions master. Curious, Dark lord bent in front of him and stroked it’s pale face with his long finger. Unexpectedly, the unconcious figure trembled ant tried to get away from him. How sweet it was, this feeling of distress his caress seemed to cause for the creature. Lord Voldemort gently kissed his steel-blue hair, and was awarded with a frown. The action cleared all his doubts about creatures identity. Undoubtedly this was none other, but Severus Snape – marveled lord Voldemort. Those elegant furrowed browns and tightly pressed lips, a body tense and shivering like a string of a harp – all the delicate movements – so sweet so much like those uncountable times he had played his silent obstinate instrument with a crucios.
„As expected, you were not loyal to me...” – whispered Voldemort amused, and stroked pale almost invisible pink death mark on his ex- servant’s pale arm.
For years, He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named had not a small doubt concerning his supposed spy’s true loyalties. Had it been his any other servant, his disposal would have been immediate and gruesome. The disposable trash most of them there, anyway. However, Severus Snape was ... a special case. Not only was the man an unrivaled genius in potions making, inexhaustible source of witty remarks and exquisite spite, his failures or rather the consequences of his failures were also, if not awaited when at least ... enjoyable.
Once again had the dark lord touched young, unfamiliar face of Severus Snape – this time to sweep the cold drops of sweat away - and to kiss his forehead. But, seeing that the light radiating from the man was starting to dim Dark Lord reluctantly drew away. „Ressst, sssweet...”
Whatever creature his traitorous little spy were, it’s magic was far too precious to be wasted away just for a small amusement.
XXX
When Severus Snape awoke, excruciating pain in his left forehead was gone. A strange feeling washed over him he felt both liberated and trapped, awoken to the parts of himself he knew not that existed, an stripped away from the false truths that he used to cling into. ‚The mark also gone’ he noted looking at pale forearm. In its place a silver bracelet now loosely hanged on his wrist – emitting a little bit unpleasant, but ignorable feeling. It was an simple piece of work – a stylized circlet of serpents, but it was undoubtedly magical and binding.
The man was lying on an enormous bed with a semipermeable white tester and it was the seeping rays of light that awoke him. Sneering at useless luxury Snape gathered his strength and tried to sit. Ivory silk blanket was cast aside and he noted that his body had dramatically changed, but it did not feel strange or unnatural – and that made him even more vary. Moreover, he was nude. Uncomfortable with the thought of somebody seeing his bare body the man made a look that was a cross between a frown and though he would never admit it a pout, but quickly cast that idea aside for more disturbing matters. He was weak – it had taken his all just to sit straight - and the future notion standing and walking, and somehow making his way off from wherever he was ( the possibility of this being not an enemy territory was not even worth considering ) made him blanch. Even worse , the last thing he remembered was the agony of his dark mark burning – now that he thought about it the pain was far too intense to be that of summoning - and how he pressed the tip of his wand trying to answer „ the supposed call”. The question of how he had managed to disapparate from within Hogwarts, was also pushed aside.
Straightening his back and squeezing his fists till his knuckles an fingers were white – he waited for the black spots in his vision and ringing in his ears to pass. Then holding into the edge of bed so as not to lose his footing – he surveyed the suite. The suite – for it was far too exlusive to be called anything else – was enormous. The man sneered and thought that he had probably somehow ended at Malfoy’s manor , however, room’s dominating ivory and silver colors made him rethink the idea. Soft tapestry decorated with some flowery pattern, ornate fussy maple furniture, Gold rimmed mirror on the left wall, enormous windows, canvas of landscapes, waterfalls, flowers and unicorns as well as large silver basket full of white roses in the center of the room - he could have sworn that someone was mocking him. He just hoped that someone was a deity, fate or any other obscure idea and not a living being.
Searching the room – Severus was not surprised to see, that his wand was nowhere to be found. Worrisome was the fact that there was nothing which could to be used as a weapon, not even inside the enormous bathroom , and that the doors and even windows were magically sealed - the windows revealed a landscape of teenage girl dreams, and it deepened his concern for it all being some grandiose plan to make him loose his sanity. If worse came to worst I can always break the mirror, Severus decided – then after exhausting and fruitless search he stood in front of it to examine the changes in his appearance.
“Impossible” - , he whispered shocked enough to loose the brim of a silk blanket that was tightly wrapped around his thin body. It was only his pride and years of acquaintanceship with Lucius Malfoy that kept more crude and probably far more suitable exclamations at check.
Magic and potions could indeed alter one’s appearance quite dramatically. However, one thing was not possible - and potions genius (who also was working for a crazy megalomaniac desperately trying to achieve immortality) knew that very well - it was getting younger. Potions, Charms and glamors could create that impression, but somehow man knew that this was not the case. Not somehow, In fact it was purely his logic at work. Charms and glamors would be felt by the wearer namely him, and potions worked for short enough time to be crossed out… and left aftertaste which he did not feel. Still, no matter how Severus looked at the reflection - he had to admit that he now appeared to be no older than … 25. (In fact, that was stretching it a great deal – a detached eye would not have given him more than 15-16 years). ‘At least now, after torturing me for being a traitor, the dark lord will grind me and make a concoction from my dust, to use it as a youth elixir.’ He thought.
His hairless skin and lean half-starved body was no improvement (a pity) and the height of 5’4 was definitely a huge drawback. “Dear god, I look even less matured then Potter” – scowled Snape – ‘…and probably just as imposing as a first year’ – he mentally added after observing his expression.
His complexion also underwent a change – from sickly yellowish pale to ghostly pale. In fact all over his body delicate and not so much alterations could be traced be it a little fuller lips, slightly pointed ears or straight white teeth.
Seeing that his characteristic nose – while slightly bigger looking than an average nose (the impression was probably more due to the lack of body fat than anything else) was no longer crooked or out of place looking Severus Snape suddenly felt a very strange warm tingling in his gut that distinctly reminded happiness. This particular change along with slick, steel-blue hair made the expression “greasy bat” everything but true. Unawares he suddenly felt a tinniest of smiles about to blossom on his face. Then, being a man who proudly took self denial to new heights, appalled he sneered at this supposed vanity, and with a fast step headed towards the wardrobe, hoping to find there something more covering and prudent than a white silk blanket.
All things considered, that quick pace of his was probably for the better rather than worse. As it was, with the sick feeling and black spots back in the game Severus’ brain actually had time to evaluate the sight that greeted him upon opening wardrobe’s door before his body rushed to action.
“That the hell…” – though, still managed to escape before a telltale frown graced his face.
The clothes - if those… things could be called that - hanging in the magically enlarged piece of furniture were neither covering nor appropriate. Robes that did not reach knees and had indecently short sleeves, if any at all, transparent robes, lacy lingerie, ribbons frilly girdles and …. something else that potions master cared not and dared not to identify. Appalled Severus yanked one of the ribbons and banged the door shut – his face and neck red with blush. The dominating color of garments was silver, green and black so she must be a Slytherin he though and blanched.
Whoever was trying to make a laugh out of him was twisted and sick beyond imagination and regrettably not an obscure idea of some sort. Rather, it was not only this idea that had a very bad taste of humor. It had a minion who was regrettably definitely very much alive. While re wrapping the blanket and tying it with the black silk ribbon, Severus played with the idea of this being some eccentric woman’s apartment – but while the possibility of someone owning clothes that were conveniently right his size was unlikely enough, combined with the fact that no woman would own “male lingerie” and lock an unconscious person (a male nonetheless) inside her living quarters it become nonexistent.
‘What a crude joke ‘… he fumed, blushed and pondered on the situation – so not like himself, but what else he could possibly do? - then suddenly a door had opened and he felt something foul enter the suite.
Cliché :P
--
A/N
I really hope you liked it. Really, isn't Sev just too cute :)
I also wanted to warn you the WIP is a very very important warning. I will try to update every two weeks, but with the upcoming term paper this semester and lab work... ( Oh, my god! Oh my god! My first term paper ! Starts running around, hits her head and bleeds to death. -I wish. )
So anyway, please enjoy!
The Awakening
In a small Spartan looking room without windows, on a single bed – that once belonged to the hospital wing, but had been discarded when 'Reparo' spell no longer worked on it – a tired pale man was laying curled in a fetus pose. Greasy black hair draped across the grey pillow like a halo, bare hairless legs and arms covered in goose bums, a worn out cotton nightwear too wide on his thin frame, and the fluttering of his thick eyelashes – all made notorious professor look so vulnerable and childish it was hardly believable.
But, stranger even than the male’s seemingly defenseless appearance, which on its’ own was rather unusual sight to witness, was the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest.
His thick grey blanket was dropped on the stone floor and the old fireplace hadn’t been used for a considerately long time. And despite his obvious discomfort the Light’s spy did not wake. That was … odd, indeed.
While Hogwarts potions master was notorious for many things, sleeping was never one of them. As often as not he would spend days, sometimes even weeks, avoiding that one necessity suspended only by energy potions and his will power. Spying for Order of the Phoenix, stalking the corridors on a night-watch, teaching brats the art of potions and then checking their essays that were at best nothing more but a repeated summaries of books, collecting ingredients in the forbidden forest or making potions for lord Voldemort and Poppy. He barely found time to eat meals, let alone sleep, was man’s usual excuse to himself and to those few that cared for his wellbeing. Empty bottles of dreamless sleep potion, would have cared to object, had any living or unliving person understood their language or dared to check potions master’s closet. Alas, no such crazy soul existed in Hogwarts.
Not that they ever worked. Regrettably, the only stronger potion was the drought of the living dead not an option for somebody, who cared little for playing the sleeping beauty. Thus, even when tired beyond reason and doused in potions – paranoid spy would usually wake up from a simple flicker of light, a sound of footsteps in the corridor or even a minor change in the room’s temperature. Not really a good nights sleep, but at least it was dreamless.
Suddenly, tall shelves full of books, potions, ingredients and strange alchemical appliances, a small desk covered with student essays and research notes, an old wardrobe, a closet, a fireplace, bare stone walls and the old blanket, the bed – all a things in the small room were illuminated by mysterious golden light radiating from man’s figure. This inner glow distorted Snape’s contour and made it seem blurred, unclear, twisted. Or was it that for once man’s true form could be truly seen, too bright to be hidden by the shell that was his body.
XXX
Severus Snape woke up form excruciating pain that was radiating from his left forehead and consuming his whole body. Delirious, he fell from the bed. Knees and palms aching form the hard impact, droplets of cold sweat glistening on his forehead like a diadem of diamonds man blindly reached for a wand lying under the pillow. Guided entirely by reflex he pressed its’ tip it across the angry red tattoo, whispered something and disapparated.
Even through the mist of agony Severus Snape knew that something was wrong. Not that agony was good, by any case, but it was something the spy was already used to.
The air was thick with shadows of pain and residues of tainted magic. They had always been there, these echoes from the past, new was only his ability, no the awareness of being able to sense, to see with the corners of his eyes, how it was swirling, curling, condensing at the center of room bellow the throne. Not only that, in front of him there stood a human with a soul so twisted and mutilated, it made him unwittingly recoil. Then guilt washed over him, and a wish to help. But, those were simple emotions – suppressing them was something he exceeded at. It was the part where he realized that he had to prostate before the thing that made it tricky. For some reason, the thought was appalling, wrong on too many levels, something he just couldn’t do, the consequences be damned. Like a deer in headlights Snape stood in front of a pitiable soul, frozen from pain. The impurity of the place was making it hard for him to even breath, let alone move. So sickening in was, he managed to stand it only for a few seconds, before letting his consciousness go.
XXX
The experience of drinking unicorn’s blood enabled the Dark Lord to see Auras. As it was, he has indeed been pleasantly surprised when a figure of golden light suddenly appeared in front of him. It instinctively retreated from his persona stumbled and then fell on the hard marble floor.
„Sweet...warm light...Can I devour...it...massster...” Hissed Nagini, with all the immpatience a snake can express.
A sudden rage flashed through the Dark lord, so intense he reached for his wand and pointed it at Nagini, with all the intention to kill it. To kill a horcux, a part of himself. It was disturbing ...and intriguing. „...No. Ssstay Here. ”
Approaching the being lord Voldemort found himself staring at somebody that vaguely reminded him of his favorite potions master. Curious, Dark lord bent in front of him and stroked it’s pale face with his long finger. Unexpectedly, the unconcious figure trembled ant tried to get away from him. How sweet it was, this feeling of distress his caress seemed to cause for the creature. Lord Voldemort gently kissed his steel-blue hair, and was awarded with a frown. The action cleared all his doubts about creatures identity. Undoubtedly this was none other, but Severus Snape – marveled lord Voldemort. Those elegant furrowed browns and tightly pressed lips, a body tense and shivering like a string of a harp – all the delicate movements – so sweet so much like those uncountable times he had played his silent obstinate instrument with a crucios.
„As expected, you were not loyal to me...” – whispered Voldemort amused, and stroked pale almost invisible pink death mark on his ex- servant’s pale arm.
For years, He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named had not a small doubt concerning his supposed spy’s true loyalties. Had it been his any other servant, his disposal would have been immediate and gruesome. The disposable trash most of them there, anyway. However, Severus Snape was ... a special case. Not only was the man an unrivaled genius in potions making, inexhaustible source of witty remarks and exquisite spite, his failures or rather the consequences of his failures were also, if not awaited when at least ... enjoyable.
Once again had the dark lord touched young, unfamiliar face of Severus Snape – this time to sweep the cold drops of sweat away - and to kiss his forehead. But, seeing that the light radiating from the man was starting to dim Dark Lord reluctantly drew away. „Ressst, sssweet...”
Whatever creature his traitorous little spy were, it’s magic was far too precious to be wasted away just for a small amusement.
XXX
When Severus Snape awoke, excruciating pain in his left forehead was gone. A strange feeling washed over him he felt both liberated and trapped, awoken to the parts of himself he knew not that existed, an stripped away from the false truths that he used to cling into. ‚The mark also gone’ he noted looking at pale forearm. In its place a silver bracelet now loosely hanged on his wrist – emitting a little bit unpleasant, but ignorable feeling. It was an simple piece of work – a stylized circlet of serpents, but it was undoubtedly magical and binding.
The man was lying on an enormous bed with a semipermeable white tester and it was the seeping rays of light that awoke him. Sneering at useless luxury Snape gathered his strength and tried to sit. Ivory silk blanket was cast aside and he noted that his body had dramatically changed, but it did not feel strange or unnatural – and that made him even more vary. Moreover, he was nude. Uncomfortable with the thought of somebody seeing his bare body the man made a look that was a cross between a frown and though he would never admit it a pout, but quickly cast that idea aside for more disturbing matters. He was weak – it had taken his all just to sit straight - and the future notion standing and walking, and somehow making his way off from wherever he was ( the possibility of this being not an enemy territory was not even worth considering ) made him blanch. Even worse , the last thing he remembered was the agony of his dark mark burning – now that he thought about it the pain was far too intense to be that of summoning - and how he pressed the tip of his wand trying to answer „ the supposed call”. The question of how he had managed to disapparate from within Hogwarts, was also pushed aside.
Straightening his back and squeezing his fists till his knuckles an fingers were white – he waited for the black spots in his vision and ringing in his ears to pass. Then holding into the edge of bed so as not to lose his footing – he surveyed the suite. The suite – for it was far too exlusive to be called anything else – was enormous. The man sneered and thought that he had probably somehow ended at Malfoy’s manor , however, room’s dominating ivory and silver colors made him rethink the idea. Soft tapestry decorated with some flowery pattern, ornate fussy maple furniture, Gold rimmed mirror on the left wall, enormous windows, canvas of landscapes, waterfalls, flowers and unicorns as well as large silver basket full of white roses in the center of the room - he could have sworn that someone was mocking him. He just hoped that someone was a deity, fate or any other obscure idea and not a living being.
Searching the room – Severus was not surprised to see, that his wand was nowhere to be found. Worrisome was the fact that there was nothing which could to be used as a weapon, not even inside the enormous bathroom , and that the doors and even windows were magically sealed - the windows revealed a landscape of teenage girl dreams, and it deepened his concern for it all being some grandiose plan to make him loose his sanity. If worse came to worst I can always break the mirror, Severus decided – then after exhausting and fruitless search he stood in front of it to examine the changes in his appearance.
“Impossible” - , he whispered shocked enough to loose the brim of a silk blanket that was tightly wrapped around his thin body. It was only his pride and years of acquaintanceship with Lucius Malfoy that kept more crude and probably far more suitable exclamations at check.
Magic and potions could indeed alter one’s appearance quite dramatically. However, one thing was not possible - and potions genius (who also was working for a crazy megalomaniac desperately trying to achieve immortality) knew that very well - it was getting younger. Potions, Charms and glamors could create that impression, but somehow man knew that this was not the case. Not somehow, In fact it was purely his logic at work. Charms and glamors would be felt by the wearer namely him, and potions worked for short enough time to be crossed out… and left aftertaste which he did not feel. Still, no matter how Severus looked at the reflection - he had to admit that he now appeared to be no older than … 25. (In fact, that was stretching it a great deal – a detached eye would not have given him more than 15-16 years). ‘At least now, after torturing me for being a traitor, the dark lord will grind me and make a concoction from my dust, to use it as a youth elixir.’ He thought.
His hairless skin and lean half-starved body was no improvement (a pity) and the height of 5’4 was definitely a huge drawback. “Dear god, I look even less matured then Potter” – scowled Snape – ‘…and probably just as imposing as a first year’ – he mentally added after observing his expression.
His complexion also underwent a change – from sickly yellowish pale to ghostly pale. In fact all over his body delicate and not so much alterations could be traced be it a little fuller lips, slightly pointed ears or straight white teeth.
Seeing that his characteristic nose – while slightly bigger looking than an average nose (the impression was probably more due to the lack of body fat than anything else) was no longer crooked or out of place looking Severus Snape suddenly felt a very strange warm tingling in his gut that distinctly reminded happiness. This particular change along with slick, steel-blue hair made the expression “greasy bat” everything but true. Unawares he suddenly felt a tinniest of smiles about to blossom on his face. Then, being a man who proudly took self denial to new heights, appalled he sneered at this supposed vanity, and with a fast step headed towards the wardrobe, hoping to find there something more covering and prudent than a white silk blanket.
All things considered, that quick pace of his was probably for the better rather than worse. As it was, with the sick feeling and black spots back in the game Severus’ brain actually had time to evaluate the sight that greeted him upon opening wardrobe’s door before his body rushed to action.
“That the hell…” – though, still managed to escape before a telltale frown graced his face.
The clothes - if those… things could be called that - hanging in the magically enlarged piece of furniture were neither covering nor appropriate. Robes that did not reach knees and had indecently short sleeves, if any at all, transparent robes, lacy lingerie, ribbons frilly girdles and …. something else that potions master cared not and dared not to identify. Appalled Severus yanked one of the ribbons and banged the door shut – his face and neck red with blush. The dominating color of garments was silver, green and black so she must be a Slytherin he though and blanched.
Whoever was trying to make a laugh out of him was twisted and sick beyond imagination and regrettably not an obscure idea of some sort. Rather, it was not only this idea that had a very bad taste of humor. It had a minion who was regrettably definitely very much alive. While re wrapping the blanket and tying it with the black silk ribbon, Severus played with the idea of this being some eccentric woman’s apartment – but while the possibility of someone owning clothes that were conveniently right his size was unlikely enough, combined with the fact that no woman would own “male lingerie” and lock an unconscious person (a male nonetheless) inside her living quarters it become nonexistent.
‘What a crude joke ‘… he fumed, blushed and pondered on the situation – so not like himself, but what else he could possibly do? - then suddenly a door had opened and he felt something foul enter the suite.
Cliché :P
--
A/N
I really hope you liked it. Really, isn't Sev just too cute :)