Rickman, Snape. Snape, Rickman.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is my first real fan fiction piece ever...and it's not really fan ficiton, not completely anyway.
It's not finished...which you'll obviously be able to tell, but I'm working on it, so hopefully there will be more soon. :)

Submitted: July 14, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 14, 2008



“This,” he grimaced. “This is what I look like to the world?”

He ran his hand through greasy hair, rubbing his fingers together.


He surveyed his surroundings, a sneer making its way onto his face. “Lovely,” he repeated once more.

Returning his eyes to the mirror, he looked down at his feet.

“This?” He mumbled silently.

He sighed into the damp, empty dungeons.

“…of all…that daft fucker,” he cursed, turning sideways to examine himself. Of everything that could have been, why this? Why this? Why this?

He’d expected muscles, he’d expected looks, and this is what he was stuck with. If this was the case, he’d of rather stayed on paper.

“Bloody casting director,” snaked from his lips.

“You are loved, or rather hated, around the world. What are you complaining about?”

Startled he whirled around, facing his twin who occupied a chair in the sitting room.

“It’s really no wonder why I’m hated throughout the world. Look at you.”

He swung back towards the mirror, his robes flowing about him.

The other man appeared behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. His body stiffened, ebony eyes glaring into ebony eyes.

“Kindly remove your hand from my person, Mr. Rickman, unless you intend to endure a painful end.”

The words rang stony in their steely tone.

Mr. Rickman removed his hand, “…and you say it’s me that has warranted the dislike.”

He swung around, wand in hand, to Mr. Rickman.

“Say those words again.”

“You heard me, Severus.”

“I wasn’t aware we were cordial, Alan,” His mouth curved into a sneer.

“I wasn’t aware we weren’t.”

Alan titled his head slightly, calmly gazing at the agitated man before him. “May I ask what you intend to do about that?”

A smile threatened to overtake the smooth line of his lips.

Severus took a deep breath. He couldn’t very well curse the man, Albus would not have it. A change to Rickman’s physical appearance, in the negative, would effect Severus himself.


Severus approached the man slowly, placing his wand back in the pockets of his robe. This is how it was going to be, wasn’t it? He thrust out his right hand.

“Severus Snape, Potions Master.”

“Alan Rickman, actor.”

They shook hands for a brief moment, one angry and one amused.

“It’s nice to finally meet you professor.”

Severus said nothing in return, disappearing into his kitchen. A moment later he reemerged with two cups of tea and sat down grumpily in the chair opposite Alan.

Alan settled back against the chair, pushing back against the plush cotton within. Loosely, his fingers looped around the glass, his gaze holding steady just above the rim.

“This is quite an interesting flavour, Severus. May I ask what it is?”

Settling back himself, Severus set his cup and saucer down on the coffee table between the two.

“It’s a special flavour, of my own making. A bit of a family secret.”

Alan stared lazily toward Severus, making to speak, but making eye contact with the man across from him, he could just barely make out a glint of amusement sparkling in the other man’s eyes.

Sip by sip, consciousness began to waver, his eyes lids dropping heavily giving into the forces of drowsiness and gravity.

“What did you –” Alan started, his voice breathy and soft in the stillness of the dungeons, “ – put in this?”

Severus sneered slightly, his fingers clasping lightly in his lap.

Alan’s head slumped forward, his body going slack and falling against the side cushions. His breathing evened out, deep and even from his chest.

“Lovely.” Severus muttered, standing from his chair, levitating Alan from his place. With another flick of his wand, the doors to the professor’s private quarters swung open swiftly. Alan’s prone form floated through the open doorway.

Turning sharply, Severus swiveled in place, marching in a swirling mass of billowing robes.

As the door closed, the wards resealed the across the entrance, Alan’s body dropping with an echoing crack on the cold stone floor.

© Copyright 2018 Aislin Kane. All rights reserved.

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