Random Harry Potter One-shots Sickfics

Snape - Deaf - 12k words

Hey, fun little fact about this chapter: I wrote it in 2019 while I was in college when I had decent hearing. However, four years later I had a slight incident (tripped on some pants, cracked my skull on a paving slab, brain fluid leaked out my ears and ended up with meningitis) which resulted in me losing 55 and 75% of my hearing, big oopsie. The photo at the top is of me (well, my ears and a bitmoji, but close enough). Anyway, sorry for the narcissism, I just thought it was funny that I preemptively wrote about myself Imao, shoutout to Oticon.

A flash of bright orange, cast by a woman, hiding behind a death eater mask. The traitor amongst them gasped and curled his fingers around his head, in so much pain he could barely speak.

"Please" he whimpered, dropping to his knees and folding in on himself, still supporting his head. He could feel that he was bleeding- his fingers were wet and there was a bloody trail on the cobblestone. "Please, don't kill me."

She used the same spell on the other side of his head, making him curl up on himself like a hedgehog. Snape dimly recognized her voice, having heard a similar one in Lucius Malfoy's drawing-room. His questions were answered when she lifted up her hood, throwing back her mane of thick, dark hair, revealing high cheekbones and a mad glint in her eyes. She hit him again with something and suddenly there was nothing- a fogginess in his head, a white light in front of his eyes and he couldn't hear anything, except a deafening ring in his ears. Bellatrix muttered something, but he didn't hear her.

Feeling the fingers clamped to the side of his head grow wet, Snape gasped in pain as the woman and her partner disapparated silently, which seemed impossible. There were bright flashes in the distance and the floor beneath him began to feel warm, but he had to go. He was in danger if he stayed here any longer.

(~~~)

"Mr Longbottom, I have told you before and I will not tell you again, stop your incessant mumbling and look up when you talk!"

Neville, terrified, proceeded to do just that, saying "I'm sorry, sir, can I have another rat spleen?" slightly more clearly. The potions teacher took one look at his potion and realised what was wrong and rolled his eyes, but nodded. He gave him another out of his cupboard, docking a good five points for carelessness, in the hope that it would make him learn, though he had his doubts. 

Truthfully, he didn't hate Longbottom- he didn't hate anyone, he was a grown man who could control his emotions, thank you very much. Even Potter, and his loathsome face, he knew deep down was not his father, not that he'd ever let him know that. Yes, he didn't hate anyone. But he sure as hell didn't like many people either. And Longbottom was far down his list of favourite people: not only was the boy a blundering fool, but if the Dark Lord had believed him, that the prophecy could have been about him, and not Potter, then Lily would still be alive. 

"You have ten minutes left. Your potion should be a light blue by now," he announced, standing up and starting to prowl around the aisles to make sure no one had it right. He smiled to himself when he saw Longbottom and Weasley's... concoction (it was an insult to call it a potion) was not even liquid, but a solid grey sludge at the bottom of their cauldron. Irritably, he waved his hand and turned the heat up, wordlessly docking another ten points for stupidity.

He didn't dare go near Granger and Potter. He knew, despite Potters lack of talent for the noble art of potion-making, Granger had annoyingly nimble fingers, a careful mind and quick reactions, and was a fairly decent potions brewer, way beyond the level of the rest of the children in the room. He may have even liked her if it wasn't for the insufferable questions. Clearly, the news that she was a talented pupil had reached that great head of hers from a young age, but the young lady loved the sound of her own voice. And Potter- he had his own reasons for not wanting to go near Potter.