In which Snape thieves from people.
It was pouring. Of course it was. How could he have expected any different?
He wanted a smoke, though, and he was bloody well going to have one.
Just as he lit the cigarette, he heard the footsteps.
Light, almost silent, but decidedly behind him and walking directly towards him.
Harry sighed and took a drag, forcing himself to relax into it.
“Potter,” said the voice belonging to the footsteps: his boss.
“Professor Snape,” he responded.
“Those things will kill you, you know,” Snape informed him.
“So will alcohol and fast cars. Think anyone stops doing things with those?” Harry returned.
Snape hesitated for just a moment. “Could I bum one from you?” he inquired.
Harry silently held out the pack, then flicked his lighter under the other man’s cigarette.
“Hypocrite,” he accused.
“You saw the freshmen, Potter. And we all have our vices for dealing with the terror of people.” Snape rejoined.
“I’ve been your TA for six months, Snape. They are far more likely to come out of this scarred than you.” Harry said.
“Vices, Potter, are what keep good teachers sane, and good students in fear.” his boss replied.
“And yours is, Professor?”Harry asked.
“Stealing cigarettes off my Teaching Assistant. Now come on, we can’t catch them being late if we aren’t there ourselves.” Snape snapped back.