She was beautiful.
It wasn't the sort of beauty the other girls tried for; the sort that he was proud to see caused a barely contained sneer of disgust to mar her soft features whenever Lavender Brown flitted into sight.
It wasn't the sort that required frivolous make up, dresses both too short and too tight, and a simpering disposition. It required no perfume; the soft aroma of old paper and potion ingredients suited her perfectly.
It was the sort of beauty found only in genius.
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He watched her closely as she prepared the potion, her mind already completely focused upon the task. He wasn't surprised to realise she'd already memorised the instructions.
She tilted her head suddenly, and then, without warning, raised her hand. It wasn't the desperate waving to answer a question, it was… Merlin help him, it was as though the girl was confused.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
He'd arrived at her table within moments, shooting a glare of threat to the rest of the class, who were now more interested in her raised hand than the potions threatening to implode in their cauldrons. As one, they turned back to their work.
"Sir, I was wondering, what would happen if, instead of adder tongue, there was essence of merhair added instead?"
He paused, shocked. Could it be that she'd actually bested him?
"Add it and find out, Miss Granger." She did as instructed, and he watched, fascinated, as she delicately prepared to add the liquid to the shimmering silver in her cauldron. She squared her shoulders as though nervous, shot him a final look of questioning, and added the essence of merhair and stirred the potion.
Three times clockwise. A pause of three seconds. Three times clockwise. Once anticlockwise.
Utterly spellbinding.
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Severus Snape had been many things as a teacher. He'd been agonised by stupidity, wrathful and cruel, snarky, vile tempered and cold hearted. But now, he felt what could almost pass as pride as he watched the potion before him shimmer a more vibrant blue than he'd ever seen.
Damn her, she'd done it. Quietly, he strode from the room, returning with a toad, which, with a flick of his wand, showed all the signs of the cruciatus without feeling any of the pain. Wordlessly, she filled a dropper with her potion and fed it to the toad, sparing the creature a pity filled glance.
"It cannot feel any pain, Miss Granger. They have not had the Unforgiveable cast upon them, merely a charm that shows the side effects. If your potion works, in a moment, it shall be fine." He didn't know why he'd felt the need to reassure her, but when she smiled up at him in gratitude, he knew he'd never regret the gesture.
Her gaze moved back to the toad, and he watched her for her reaction.
He knew it would work. The blue… the way she'd prepared it, there was no way it would fail. Sure enough, a moment later the toad cheerfully leapt out of his grasp and onto the table, where she scooped it up kindly and moved it from harm's way.
"See me after class, Miss Granger."
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She was beautiful as she prepared the dosage and, with soothing words, coaxed the Longbottom's to drink. Neville watched on, terrified, his grandmother holding the rail of the bed as though about to faint.
She was… divine as the pair awoke, as though from a long sleep before, with a hug and kiss to Neville, she vanished from the room.
"Nervous?"
"No, it worked. I know it worked. But after so many years, they deserve some privacy. Neville deserves to meet them without an audience." The sounds of joyful crying echoed through the stillness, and he placed his hand upon the small of her back and led her towards the exit.
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She was beautiful on the day of her graduation. Dressed in muggle garb, a loose flowing skirt and peasant top, she softly knocked on his door, awaiting his answer before daring to enter.
"Professor, I wanted to say goodbye." In all his years of teaching, not one of the brats had done this. He was shocked.
"If it weren't for you, Neville would be without his parents…"
"Miss Granger, it was your potion."
"I'd never have thought of it if I'd had a lesser teacher. Had you not driven me to excel, to learn as much as I could, I'd never have asked. Of all the teachers here, you were the only one who ever challenged me. Thank you."
"You… you're welcome, Miss Granger." She beamed, and he felt the warmth of her smile wash over him like summer sunshine. She hesitated a moment, as though unsure of herself, then threw herself at him, embracing him warmly. Reluctantly, almost nervously, he embraced her back. Grinning widely, she leaned up and kissed his cheek.
"I'm sure I'll see you again, Professor, hopefully soon." With a subtle lowering of her head in respect, she moved from his arms and wandered away, her skirt floating, not billowing, behind her.
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She was beautiful as she fought. Both hands moving (when had she learned to duel with two wands? He was unsure, but made a mental note to ask) to curse and protect, even as her lithe form danced effortlessly out of the way.
Bellatrix Lestrange tried to curse her while her back was turned, but as though seeing it coming, she spun, already dancing from harm's way, shooting off the killing curse with a cruel smirk flitting across her features when the older witch fell. Seeming to feel his gaze, she turned to him, smiling and winking, before felling the Death Eater creeping behind him. When next he had a chance to look, she was playfully taunting Feir Greyback before, with perfect aim, throwing a silver dagger at his heart. A hideous scream, and even Voldemort paused in shock. She waved to the Dark Lord innocently, her eyes blazing with cold humour.
Still, it was that distraction that left him unable to deflect Harry's curse, even if he did manage to take the boy into death alongside him.
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She was beautiful as her fury unfurled around the remaining Death Eaters. As she interrogated and destroyed every last masked person in the grounds, grinning wickedly as she crushed spirit and body in vengeance for those she'd lost.
For her parents, slaughtered even though she'd hidden them well.
For the Weasley's, who lost almost their entire family.
For Harry, who, while the hero, still fell to save an unconcerned populous.
But also for herself. For the soft, sweet girl who'd never thought herself capable of such brutality. Of manipulating and torturing her captives so thoroughly that, if she didn't kill them, they'd find a way to do it for her. More often than not she let them kill themselves, as the only methods open to them were horrific and undignified; and left them dying with mud and grime sullying their pure blood.
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She was beautiful when, once all who required death were gone, she crept into the dungeons, into his chambers, and curled up beside him, whimpering and finally feeling. He held her tenderly, whispered comfort and brushed away each tear before her lips found his in the darkness, and she began to take her comfort in far more active ways.
She was beautiful in the morning, curled around him, her face peacefully resting on his chest even as her mane of hair obscured her from view. Slowly, she awoke, eyeing him almost nervously before shrugging and kissing him passionately.
"It's always been you, Severus. Always will be."
She was most beautiful of all when she told him she loved him.