Title: The Detention

Author: Lexin

Archive: Please ask. I will be putting it on my web page at www.redrosepress.co.uk in any case.

Summary: A young Hogwarts student annoys a Professor, but thereby fulfils a long held dream.

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything and no money is being made. Anyone who sues me is going to just end up poorer, because when I say I don't own anything, I mean it.

Notes: Short and sweet.

Warnings: None

Feedback of all kinds gratefully received


The Detention

by Lexin


Thyrza Bagshawe was a really big fan of Quidditch. So was her best friend, Belinda Smallwood and though Belinda was in Hufflepuff and Thyrza in Gryffindor, they shared everything. That sharing even extended to the pre-publication copy of 'Modern Quidditch' that Thyrza's mother had sent her - Thyrza's mother freelanced for the magazine. Thyrza, turning the magazine over in her fingers, knew she couldn't bear to keep it from Belinda, or to herself, for a whole day.

As much as Thyrza Bagshawe loved Quidditch, she hated Potions. And the day the magazine arrived was Thursday. Thursday started with double Potions, and in the afternoon they had Transfiguration, which as far as she was concerned was almost as bad. The only good thing about Potions was that they were with the Hufflepuffs and she would see Belinda. It was a bummer having your best friend in another house. Thyrza hesitated only a second before putting the magazine in her bag.

They arrived at the dungeon that was Professor Snape's lair, precisely on time. As soon as they sat down Thyrza produced the magazine and Belinda squeaked with pleasure. Professor Snape was talking in the background, but that was hardly a distraction.

"Isn't he lovely?" said Belinda, ecstatically but quietly.

"Marvellous," sighed Thyrza. Somehow these things were better shared. "Fantastic eyes and look at that gorgeous bum! Ice hot!"

"Thyrza!" Belinda sounded rather shocked, Thyrza supposed it must have been her mention of bums. But he had. For a bum, it was just perfect.

Perhaps it was also that which brought Professor Snape to their desk to loom over the two of them. "What's that?" The way he said it made it sound like they were looking at a particularly noisome item of rubbish. He leaned over and took the magazine out of Thyrza's frozen hands. "I see," he said. "You would rather read - this - than pay attention to my lesson. Five points from Gryffindor, Miss Bagshawe, and a detention." He took the magazine to his desk and Thyrza watched England's best Seeker for 500 years wave at her from his picture as it disappeared up the dungeon, clasped in Professor Snape's hand.

She almost cried, but controlled herself with an effort. 'Bastard!' she thought. Everyone called him that, and though she wasn't entirely clear what it meant, the word had a fine, final sound to it.

At the end of his class, she went to his desk. "Professor?" She hoped her voice wasn't shaking too much.

"Ah, yes, Miss Bagshawe. Your detention," his pale brow furrowed slightly. "Be back here tomorrow night at six. On time. I don't tolerate lateness."


"Yes, Miss Bagshawe?" He sounded bored.

"Can I...that is...the magazine...?"

"I'll keep that. You can go, Miss Bagshawe."

She hesitated only a few seconds before turning to leave. Bastard, she thought, for a second time.

Belinda was outside, "Did he give it to you?"


"Beast! And Harry's so beautiful!"

"I'll get it back," she did her best to sound hopeful, but you never knew with Professor Snape.


Tomorrow came, and to Thyrza it passed all too quickly. She'd never had a detention before; she'd only been at Hogwarts for a little over a term and a half. At lunch, she sat opposite Lionel Tomkinson, and he told her that Professor Snape liked to hang students up by their thumbs. Lionel was a third year and so should know, but Thyrza didn't believe him. All the same, Professor Snape was scary. She thought it was the eyes.

Exactly on time, she knocked on the door to the dungeon. And then, when no-one came, she knocked again a little more loudly. The door opened and Professor Snape stood, looking down at her. In the half light of the corridor he appeared even more saturnine than usual. "Miss Bagshawe," he said. "The Quidditch enthusiast. In."

She followed him to the back of the Potions classroom where there was another door. This proved to lead to a study. It was warmer there than it had been in the dungeon; there was a fire burning in the grate, and it was lighter - there were several candles. She looked around, curious. The room was panelled, there were shelves which held lots of thick boring looking books, and as in the dungeon there were jars and bottles of what she supposed were potions ingredients. They were a bit yucky, and she looked away. There was also a big desk and a table, with attendant chairs. No windows.

"On that table over there you will find what was once a card index."

Thyrza looked at the haphazard pile of cards about a foot high, and the little cabinet.

"You will put the cards - all of them - into the cabinet in order. In order, Miss Bagshawe. I will be checking."

She stared at him in absolute horror. It would take all night. "But Professor...!"

"I suggest you start, Miss Bagshawe."

"Yes, Professor." She sat down at the table and started.

Time passed very slowly. Professor Snape didn't attempt to talk to her nor she to him. She stole a glance at him. He sat behind his desk and wrote with great speed and concentration. She wondered what on earth he could be doing for so long; surely Professors didn't have to write essays, so what did they write? The silence was deep, but somehow comfortable.


Without warning, Professor Snape got up and went out. Thyrza stretched - she hadn't dared to with him there - and went on sorting the cards, working as quickly as she could, wondering how many more hours it would take.

There was a sudden noise behind her and Thyrza turned round. She dropped a handful of cards.

Harry Potter stepped away from the fire, dusting off his dark blue robes and Thyrza caught a glimpse of the slight sparkle of used floo powder. He said, "Is my...is Professor Snape here?"

"Er...no..." She was surprised she could speak at all. "He went out," she said, hoping her voice wasn't too squeaky. He was even better looking in person than he was in the pictures she tacked to the dormitory walls, she decided, and his voice was nice, too. Quiet, and not at all what she would have expected from the man who had defeated Voldemort.

"And you are?" He put his head on one side, looking, she thought, quite devastating.

"Thyrza Bagshawe," she said, sure she was scarlet, then added, "I'm...I'm in detention." She felt she should offer some explanation for her presence.

"Oh dear," his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled as she had seen them do in the photos she treasured. "What desperate sin did you commit?"

"There was a magazine..." she said, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her. Somehow it made her feel very small and silly, having to tell Harry Potter what she had done.

"I see," he said, gravely. "A criminal indeed. And what has he given you to do?"

"Sort these," she waved at the pile of cards on the table.

He looked at them, "That's going to take some time. Would you like some help?"

"Er...the Professor didn't say anything about help."

"Then we won't tell him." Harry went over to the desk, shuffled through papers for a moment, and picked up a wand she hadn't before noticed. He pointed it at the cards and said, "Sabelio!"

The cards rose up from the desk and there was a confused few moments of scrabbling and flapping while they put themselves in order. Then they flipped themselves into the cabinet and the drawers closed.

"Much easier," he said. "Now, how long have you been here?"

"Oh...a while..."

"Did you miss dinner?"

Her stomach gave a loud rumble and she giggled, "Yes."

"In that case..." He tapped the desk and murmured something she didn't quite hear. Suddenly there was a tray with tea, sandwiches, a jug of pumpkin juice and some little cakes on doilies. "I could do with something to eat, too," he said.

He moved Professor Snape's papers out of the way and she wondered what the Professor would say. He didn't seem to her like the kind of man who would enjoy having his belongings shifted about, even by an international Quidditch player. In fact, Snape didn't seem to her like the kind of man who would be visited by an international Quidditch player.

"Sit down," Harry said.

"Thank you."

"Here," he handed her a three sandwiches on a small plate, and a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Lovely," she said. "Chicken. My favourite."

"Mine too. How long have you been at Hogwarts?"

"It's only my first year," she said, trying to swallow enough sandwich to be able to speak. "It's great!"

"I thought so, too. Got a favourite lesson?"

"Defence Against the Dark Arts," she replied immediately. "Professor Lupin is ice hot! D'you know what he said?"

"No?" Harry smiled at her and his eyes crinkled again. "What?"

"'I'm Professor Lupin. And I'm a werewolf.' Just like that! It was great! And when he's ill we get Mr Black, and he's pretty good too. Great voice, like chocolate with sand in it. Lionel Tomkinson says Mr Black really works for the Ministry and only helps out here, but nobody's really sure and Lionel tells such lies."


"They're hard...hard to understand and Professor Snape's really strict. Did you have a favourite?"

"It varied." He smiled again, but as if at something that wasn't there. "Depending on the teacher."

"I bet you never got detention."

"Oh, I did. Several times. Some of them even from Professor Snape."

"Really?" She knew she sounded awed. "Ice hot!"

"Which doesn't mean that it's a good idea," he added with a twinkle. "But as a grown up, I have to say that."

"Is it true you..." She stopped.


"In that match against Switzerland you caught the snitch in your mouth."

"Quite true," he said, solemnly.


"Well...I first did that here at school..."

They were deep in a Quidditch discussion when the door opened. Thyrza almost jumped a mile to find Professor Snape's black eyes on her again. She'd completely forgotten about him. She stood as Harry did, and Harry said, "Ah, Severus."

"Harry." To Thyrza's surprise Professor Snape sounded almost...happy. It seemed he was the sort of man who knew international Quidditch players after all. Very well, by the sound of it. And his first name, too. Severus. Well, it couldn't be Professor.

"I see you have completed your task, Miss Bagshawe." She tensed in case he asked how she'd done it, but he just said, "Off you go."

She was halfway the Gryffindor common room before she remembered the magazine. Too late now. She smiled, couldn't help it, she knew she must look like a loon. She'd met Harry Potter. Belinda would be so extremely jealous she'd probably burst.


Tuesday afternoon and the Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs had Potions again. Thyrza thought that somehow Professor Snape was less intimidating than he had been before. He was as miserable and as snide as always, but she couldn't help remembering what his voice sounded like when he was pleased to see someone.

At the end of the lesson, as the others streamed past her on their way to their common rooms and dinner, she went up to his desk.

"Miss Bagshawe?"

"Er...Professor..." she swallowed. This was it. "Can... Can I have my magazine back? Please?"

"Miss Bagshawe. I understand that Quidditch seems much more important to you than my classes. You would be a very odd young lady indeed if it were not so. But do understand that if I ever see anything like that magazine in my classroom again it will be the last you will see of it. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor. I understand." Some imp made her add, "It's not so much Quidditch as him. Harry Potter. He's ice hot!"

The Professor sighed and unlocked his desk. "Here you are." His lips twitched, just once. "Enjoy."


Thyrza went back to the Gryffindor common room, and settled down in a corner; the pleasure of sharing with Belinda would have wait until tomorrow. Like any true fan, she turned to the big picture poster first. She nearly dropped the magazine, she was so surprised. It was signed. The big poster of the England squad, the one which had met Switzerland and won against all the odds, had been signed by every member of the team...Ron Weasley, Dickon Dean, Harry Potter...all of them. She looked at it for a long time.

Then she turned to the article. Underneath the main picture by the article header was a small picture insert.

It couldn't be...but it was. The notes under the picture read: 'Harry Potter and his husband Severus Snape at their recent handfasting. "I've never been so happy," confessed the Seeker. "He's a wonderful man."'

Well, she thought. Wow! It was inadequate, but there were not words.

She looked closely at the picture. Harry was smiling and waving; he looked joyful...and relieved. Snape didn't move much and he looked just as he always did. Ice hot.