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| Standard Anti-Litigation
Charm: Harry Potter and all related characters are the property
of J. K. Rowling, Scholastic, Warner Brothers, Main Entry: 1pros·trate Pronunciation: 'prä-"strAt Function: adjective Etymology: Middle English prostrat, from Latin prostratus, past participle of prosternere, from pro- before + sternere to spread out, throw down -- more at STREW Date: 14th century 1 : stretched out with face on the ground in adoration or submission; also : lying flat 2 : completely overcome and lacking vitality, will, or power to rise 3 : trailing on the ground : PROCUMBENT synonym see PRONE certain that his lover would never forgive him. He was headed to the dungeons, ignoring the stares of his former teachers and classmates. He hoped to ebb the flow of scorn that would inevitably proceed from this. Severus was, after all, terribly talented at laying on the guilt. He could only hope to be forgiven for his actions, and even then the forgiveness would only come after weeks of begging. It hadn't been his fault, really. He'd been rather caught up in the moment. It had been a good game. He was expected to go out to celebrate with his teammates. He was expected to imbibe large quantities of certain beverages. Wood had thrust the first drink into his hand, those damnable chocolate eyes dancing at the young Seeker. The others had encouraged the pair to get out and dance together, as neither had their partner with them that night. Harry had never even noticed the cameras flashing. He'd been a bit too drunk by that point. Harry ran into Snape's office, not failing to notice the paper that lay unfolded on the Professor's desk, with the headline "Love for England's Finest?" sprawled above a photograph of him gyrating in tandem with Oliver Wood. Severus simply continued to grade essays and ignored him completely. Harry threw himself down, prostrate on the floor, and clutched at Snape's robes. "I'm so sorry, Severus. It didn't mean anything, I swear," Harry said. "We were just having fun. Nothing happened. We just danced, that's all! It'll never happen again." Snape suppressed a snicker behind an indifferent grunt. Harry's begging was terribly amusing, in light of the circumstances. "Get up you idiot boy," he said. "I know you did nothing wrong. It's not your fault that the damn paparazzi like to read between lines that aren't there. You are, after all, the Man-Who-Killed-Voldemort. But . . ." "What?" Harry asked, standing up. "If you would like to beg for something else." Snape drawled. Harry grinned and collapsed back onto his knees. |
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