"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?
Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but--
"POTTER!"
Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped.
"I just wondered if I could have my book back."
"GET OUT! OUT!"
Harry left, before Snape could take anymore points from Gryffindor. He sprinted back upstairs.
~Philosopher's Stone, Ch. 11 "Quidditch"
I just watched the Philosopher's Stone earlier today, so I felt like doing a quote from the book. And it's too bad this scene wasn't included in the movie...
You know, when you're older and read this part, it sounds dirty at first. I mean...
Snape and Flich were inside, alone.
Wait, no...
Snape was holding his robes above his knees.
OH GOD EWWWWW
One of his legs was bloody and mangled.
Oh, phew. *immensely relieved*
And speaking of which, I must advise you never to read Snape/Filch fanfiction. Or better known as Snilch. It's worse than Snagrid.
Anyway, I also noticed that Snape uses the word 'Blasted.' That just seems like more of a British slang word that I wouldn't expect to hear Snape use. Can you imagine him saying "Blimey," or "mate"?
Rather than giving you my analysis on what Snape must be feeling during this scene, I've decided to give you an exerpt of my fanfiction (with which I am rewriting the entire series from Snape's point of view). This is the same scene from Snape's POV.
On the way [to the Headmaster's office], he passed the Staff Room door, which was open. Inside, he could hear the raspy voice of Argus Filch. As he stopped, Mrs. Norris, the red-eyed Maine Coon that patrolled the hallways and acted as Filch’s usual tip-off, appeared at the base of the door and sat there.
Without waiting for the Caretaker to open it for him, he limped inside the room, where Filch was bent over a table, and muttering angrily while writing something.
“Argus, why aren’t you speaking with Dumbledore?” he asked, startling him enough that it seemed he spilled ink on whatever he was writing. “Wasn’t Peeves just harassing the House Elves?”
Bending down to pet Mrs. Norris, Filch scowled worse, screwing up his already wrinkled face. “Dumbledore said I was ‘urging for Peeve’s expulsion so frequently’ that I have to start filing written complaints.” He then made sort of a whimpering sound, and returned to writing his complaint.
“I need a favor.” said Snape as he closed the door behind him and pulled his robes above his knees, showing his mangled leg. “Could you bandage this up, please?”
Filch gaped, frightened at the bloody mess he could hardly call a leg. Afraid to offend Snape, he hesitated before asking, “What happened to your leg? …I need to know what caused it to properly fix it,” he added hastily, just in case.
“Got bitten by a giant, three-headed dog…” The caretaker started to open his mouth for another question, but Snape answered it for him. “You can’t tell anyone. But you can do something about it, can’t you?”
“Oh—yes, yes I c-can.” he stammered, still disgusted at the bloody sight. Snape pulled a chair out and sat on it, keeping his robes above his knees. Filch fumbled for something at his belt, and pulled out a strangely shaped bottle. He squirted something clear from it onto a rag, and dabbed at the wound.
“What is that stuff? Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Snape asked skeptically.
“It’s disinfectant. Not a potion—Muggles use it. But I can’t brew any potions… and it should work on bites. Saliva is saliva…”
His explanation didn’t really reassure Snape at all, and in fact made him feel like he was better off without attempting to heal it this way. But it was better than nothing. Wincing at the stinging pain the ‘disinfectant’ brought him at every dab, which was worse than the original throbbing, he tried to think of something else.
Vesperra would return to being happy with him after it was all done, so that would make the pain worth it… And he couldn’t kid himself; He couldn’t have gone on forever, just limping all the time. There was a good chance that the wound would get infected after a while, anyway. He might have died from an infection, but now he was getting it fixed and he’d be fine…
Before he knew it, the stinging was gone and Filch was wrapping a bandage around his lower leg. Coming out of his daze, his sense of pride was back.
“I think I can do this part myself…” he said curtly, but Filch showed no sign of being offended, and began to hand him bandages. As he wrapped each one around and tied it, he felt slight relief with his raw skin losing contact with air, and instead bound by the pressure of cloth.
“Blasted thing,” said Snape angrily, now feeling like venting some of the past day’s pain and frustration. “How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?”
Though he was rather angry at Dumbledore for allowing such a dangerous beast into Hogwarts, which surely could have killed him, he realized something quite relieving the moment he said these words. If it nearly killed me, what are the chances Quirrell could get past it? But then again, when he had first gotten in there, the beast wasn’t attacking him. So Quirrell actually has a lead…
His musings were interrupted by the slight creaking of the door and detected movement from his peripheral vision. Panicking, he whipped his head around, hearing his neck crack, and saw Potter standing in the doorway looking as though he were about to run away.
“POTTER!” Snape yelled, face twisted with more fury than he had felt in a long time, as he hurried to hide his leg.
The boy looked absolutely terrified. Oh, the Hell that would be wrought upon him later… but Snape’s heart pounded so hard in his chest that he could hardly focus on what punishment he’d give him—instead, it was intermingled hatred and fear that dominated him at that moment.
Apparently trying to appear innocent, Potter regained his confident look, and dared to speak. “I just wondered if I could have my book back.”
“GET OUT! OUT!” Potter’s eyes widened and he ran away, leaving Snape staring at the place where he had just been standing in pure hatred.
How DARE he? How dare that pompous little brat sneak around and spy on me, and have the nerve to ask for his book back? Not wanting to discuss it with Filch or stick around long enough to allow him to provoke a conversation, he hastened to finish bandaging the last of his exposed wound.
Without thanking Filch, he dropped his robes and started towards the door, but stopped just before reaching the doorway. Snape pulled out Potter’s book from within his robes with an evil smirk.
“Here, Argus. I know how much you love keeping things that students will never see again… Namely, Potter.” he growled, and Filch took the book from his outstretched hand with both a grateful and malicious smile. Nothing left to say, he retreated to his chambers.
If you're confused about who Vesperra is, then you haven't read my fanfiction. I suggest you do. Here, just in case: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6631189/1/Severus_Snape_and_Vesperra_DMonicas
