Come Together

4. karma chameleon - culture club

November 1984

"Shit shit shit shit," you mumbled, nearly spilling the potion you were working on. The current distraction, though certainly not the first nor would it be the last, was your musical quill. One of your clever Ravenclaw friends decided that the appropriate and suitable 14th birthday gift to you would be a quill that sang when it felt the writer's hand perspire in trying to write quickly/under pressure. Magic really has come far.

You were quite pleased by the gift, not only because you loved music, but because it let you play muggle music. Some Slytherins liked to make fun of Hufflepuffs, and you being a muggle born put you at 2x the risk, but you couldn't help that you loved muggle bands like The Beatles and Beach Boys. You were nearly convinced that the Wilson brothers were wizards anyway, especially Brian. He must have had a lyric charmed quill to compose Pet Sounds. Either way, when you played Bohemian Rhapsody for your pure blood friends, most of them became quite reluctant to tease you for your muggle preferences. In fact, two pure bloods frequently asked to borrow your record player and newest records on the weekends.

But, the quill. That horrible, wonderful, dastardly quill. While trying to concoct a Dizziness Draught, and take notes, with only five minutes left in class, you broke off the tip of one of your eagle feathered quills. In attempt to hurry and keep going, you reached into your satchel for a new quill, and in not paying attention, you reached for the musical one.

It was fine at first. You knew you would finish in time, and even if you didn't, Snape tended to consider the quality rather than just who finished or not. But, of course, one of the annoying Gryffindors next to you had to be passing notes over your table. You ignored the first flying plane, looked to Snape after the second nearly hit you in the head, and finally made eye contact at the third. You gestured with your eyes to the student to your left, who was about to launch another plane.

He rolled his eyes. "Mr. Hummer, Mr. Jacobsen. Whether or not you have completed the assignment, you must refrain from passing notes in my class, especially over likely the only student who will successfully produce a Dizziness Draught. Twenty points from Gryffindor," he commanded, looking back to you after his speech. You gave him a wide grin, and a thumbs up. He responded with another roll of his eyes and a small smile.

That would help you finish, but the ordeal took three minutes of your time, and you still needed the fern leaves to finish steeping, and gradually lower the heat to a simmer while adding porcupine quills. And finish your written observations. With time stamps.

"Please complete your potions and bring them to the my desk. Class will be over very soon," he called to the class, most students having completed already, but a few, like yourself, were waiting for the leaves.

You hurriedly picked up your quill to complete your lab report. Two more students turn their potions in, leaving just you, Professor Snape, and twenty seconds. You quickly turn down the heat and add the quills, then transfer the potion to a vial.

Quickly, you picked up your own quill to write down the final color and aroma of the potion, when you heard Sting's voice erupt from your hand.

"Every little thing she does is magic
Everything she do just turns me on
Even though my life before was tragic
Now I know my love for her goes on..."

You stared at your quill, horrified. Slowly, you looked up to meet your eyes to Snape's.

"The Police?" he asked, with a glint of humor in his eyes.

"Yes, sir," you said, cheeks turning red, while fighting a smile. It was embarrassing, sure, but it could've been McGonagall, or, even worse, Duran Duran. Snape and you had a friendly mentor/student relationship, you tending to come to his class for more experimentation time with potions, detention, and the occasional help in other classes like Charms and D.A.D.A.

"Alright," he said, holding out his palm.

This could be for three possible things: the potion (most likely), the quill (very possibly), or a high five (absolutely not). You quickly brought your hand down to meet his in a high five.

A short laugh escaped his mouth. "The potion, Miss Knight. I'll let the high five slide this time."

You smiled, and pass him the potion and report, rolled and combined with twine.

"Did you enchant it yourself?" he asked, resting his hand against the table to talk as you clean up, one hand reaching for the quill.

"No, no. A friend gave it to me. You know I'm dreadful with Charms, and the only class I'm somewhat competent in is Potions." You looked at him jokingly, with a slight eyebrow raise. He had a small smile, and inspects the quill.

"That's quite a spellar gift," he said, turning back around and walking in long strides back to his desk.

You laughed loudly, causing him to look at you again. "Did you finally make a pun?" you exclaimed, holding a hand to your heart. "About time!"

He groaned, "Knight. You nearly beg me everyday to laugh at your jokes, I had to return one for once. This will not become a common occurrence, however, so do not expect my excellent humor everyday."

"I'll only expect it when I have detention," you said, him giving you a reproachful look in response. "Kidding! Jeez. I will say, however, you do have a great im-magic-nation. Get it? Like imagin-" you began to cheekily reply when he cut you off.

"That's quite enough, Knight."

"Got it."

"I will see you tonight for your detention." 

You groaned, opening the door and walking out. You hear another faint laugh as you leave, causing the corners of your mouth to slightly upturn. Who would've thought that grumpy Snape had a soft spot for muggle music, especially The Police?