Sloth

The Seven Deadly Sins: Sloth

Epitome

The Potions master swirled the tea in his cup as Dumbledore happily chattered by his side at the Head Table. He glanced toward the Gryffindor area and watched the dynamics unfold between Boy Wonder and his two cohorts. An ever-indulgent cynic, he often contemplated how in the hell that particular rag-tag trio of youthful blunder would manage to somehow defeat the Dark Lord. It was no small wonder they had managed to survive thus far – despite their careless antics and unwavering need to foolishly rush headlong into any fray without forethought. Merlin only knew he rescued their ungrateful hides more times than he could count.

Despite his misgivings he had to admit that at least Potter made an effort to prepare for the task ahead. It was a good thing he managed to befriend the school’s resident know-it-all or he would surely be lost. At least she had a decent head upon her shoulders and could steer him in the proper direction lest he wander astray. He needed to remain focused, and she would undoubtedly play a vital part in his success.

Then there was Weasley. The boy was nothing more than a nuisance. There was no doubt that his approach to life was half-arsed at best. If he would only make the effort to apply himself – even a fraction as much as he expended in pursuit of Quidditch or skirt chasing – he might actually become an asset to the Light. As it was he was an indolent, slovenly and borderline imbecilic petty little whelp.

Dunderhead.

“I do believe your confidence in Potter’s choice of companions is sorely overrated, Albus,” Severus stated nonchalantly. “Take Weasley, for instance. He’s much like a worn quill – shabby, unreliable and utterly pointless.”

A/N: Originally written for the LJ "Snape Last Drabble Writer Standing" challenge.