Amaranthine

Severus Snape has a secret wish…and a secret admirer. Snarry, some OOC, HBP-verse

Chapter 1

The door opened. Students spilled into the room and took their seats, laughing, shouting, and rustling. I wait for the clock to let me know it was officially time to start class. On the hour, I close the door with a loud bang. Complete silence. Complete attention. I head to the front of the room and begin the first lesson of the new term with the Gryffindor-Slytherin sixth year class.

At least with the sixth and seventh years, you have the cream of the crop in this miserable school. I did so when I taught potions. I have done so now that I teach Defense.

And I see that while some were less than extraordinary in potions, those same some excelled in Defense. I hope they aren't trigger happy…Potter could be. I glance at him.

Black hair that really needs to see a pair of shears, wiry round glasses, emerald-green eyes, the unmistakable scar…

Yep. Potter the Second.

From year one to now…no words can describe how much trouble that kid's put me through. Almost getting bucked off his broom, getting hospitalized only Merlin knows how many times, his blasted fainting spells (not that I have a right to talk, I had a similar problem with the Dementors, though I never felt so awful I actually did keel over)—the list goes on. I can't say how many times I almost died in the process of keeping him safe.

Most of which I had done reluctantly.

Until quite recently.

It'd be a lie to say he didn't grow on me over the years.

Though I kept up the pretense of being the evil teacher—wouldn't want the kid to think I liked him even if just a little—it was more a way for me to see how far I can push him.

How far can I push him until his temper gives way?

I asked myself that question several times since his fourth year, now that I think about it.

Actually, I'm starting to wonder why I dare to try pushing him to the limit of his calm. Last year, he was a short fuse which was fun for me.

For some reason I cannot explain I get a kick out of seeing him angry.

Class ended and I sent them on their way. My eyes are on Potter's back as he walks away with his posse, Granger and Weasley. Not that he'd ever call them such, but I feel they are less his friends than he believes.

After all, what were Pettigrew, Lupin, and Black to James Potter? I doubted the clout even knew what a friend really was.

Harry Potter is much different from his father. He's nothing like either parent, save for his sense of adventure and physical appearance.

I lean back in the chair behind my desk and sigh.

Why am I so obsessed with seeing Potter angry? Hell, when did I start to enjoy seeing the kid?

I stand, deciding to get a cup of tea. I step out my door and scream, slipping in a puddle outside my classroom door. A stream of water pours over my head.

"PEEVES!" I shout.

The confounded poltergeist cackles and runs off.

One of these days I'll get rid of that blasted ghost!

Of course every teacher thinks so at some time. Then Peeves pranks a particularly nasty student and it's fun not to laugh at said student, so it's all good.

It's a never-ending circle.

I stand back up, vanish the puddle and dry my robes. Not that it didn't seep through. I won't tell you which areas still feel wet, but it allowed my clothes to rub my skin in some awful ways.

I go to the kitchen and tickle the pair, desperately needing some tea if not anything else. Chamomile sounds good.

I step inside and order tea to go.

"Snape, what are you doing here?"

I look at Potter and sneer. "That's Professor Snape, Potter. Five points for disrespect."

Potter shrugged. "You don't scare me anymore, Professor, so take as many points as you like."

"Why are you here?"

"Where else are you going to go to get a sandwich made on demand without setting off any alarms?" he asks.

I nod my head, raising the cup to my lips. "Fair enough."

"I'd ask Hermione, but…" he bites into his sandwich. "Well, she isn't likely to—"

"Potter, will you not eat with your mouth full?" I ask, wrinkling my nose. "Are you a Weasley and no one ever realized it?"

He swallows. "Sorry. Ron has a habit of rubbing his bad habits off on you."

That's a bad excuse if any, but I don't call him out on it. From his own smirk, I can guess he intended to disgust me.

Cheeky brat.

I take another drink of tea. "I'll leave you to your sandwich, Potter."

"Bye, Snape."

"That's another five points on your head, Boy," I say, closing the door behind me.

Really: is it so hard for him to have a little respect for his teacher?

He seems to have adjusted over the last few months since summer and the beginning of the new school year. That will make my past time of riling him a little more difficult. I'll need to take on some new tactics in that case.

Well, I've got patience, even if time is running out.

Entering my room again, I collapse in the seat and begin to grade today's stack of essays which, in all honesty, I do not want to do.

But then again, who does like grading homework? It's as tedious as doing the real assignment.

However, it won't do itself, no matter how much I wish it would.

#

"How nice of you to join us tonight, Severus," Albus greeted as I entered the hall and slumped in my spot at the teacher's table. "We just reached into the STC and pulled out an interesting rendition of Mr. Tolkein's The Hobbit. The director, it seems, is dividing it into three parts and I've gotten my paws on the first part, titled An Unexpected Journey."

I sit up and look at him. The STC? Again?

(The STC, or the Space-Time Continuum, is a wormhole that allows us to jump a few years in either direction. It's under the school beneath the dungeons. No one but the teachers know about it and it seems to not construe the natural order of things. Most headmasters won't allow anyone near it. But then again, Dumbledore isn't like most headmasters, is he? You can't fit your whole self in though. All you can do is reach in and see what you get. Once I got Joan of Arc's gauntlet.)

"The Hobbit?"

"I thought that'd catch your attention."

Yes, I am a fan. Shoot me.

"It will not be out until 2013…"

"Albus, stop goading him," Minerva snapped. I turn back to the headmaster, glaring. I want to see it.

"Can I…"

"I think it'd be wise if Harry resumed occlumency," he said, peeling an orange.

"Albus!"

Shit! It's a bribe!

I turn away, quite disappointed. Not that I wouldn't like to spend time with Potter, but the last time I tried to teach him occlumency, I also got a few buttons pushed until my top blew up after he saw…

Let's just say I don't want something like that getting out. Normally, I probably would have thought it a little ingenious. Not the point of the lesson, but not bad.

But he saw…that.

It's one of many bad memories, though still rather bad even for bad. Not that I want anyone to know about it, but…

Well…

"Headmaster, I will do anything but that."

Albus smiles, his eyes twinkling. "And I thought you'd like to see The Hobbit, Severus."

"I do. I really, really do. But I won't teach Potter occlumency again. The last time was a disaster."

"Well, I suppose the time wasn't ideal, but as we are not under the ministry's hand anymore, I thought it'd be good to take another crack at it."

"Anything but teach him occlumency again. Please!"

"Says the one who was willing to wear pink if it meant owning the Lord of the Rings movies when Sybil managed to get them two years ago," Minerva muttered. I had actually charmed my clothes and hair pink on Sybil's demand. That's how bad I wanted them. She was too shocked not to fork them over.

"They were special edition!" I hissed. "It was necessary!" I wasn't lying when I said that I'm a hard-core Ringer. I've been a fan since I got the books from Lily's dad before we started school at Hogwarts. (Granted it did take a little time to get used to the style, but then the 70's movies came out and I read them again in fourth year and…well, you get the idea. Love at first sentence.)

"Ask me again when a special edition of all three Hobbit movies are plucked out. I'm not—"

"Well, then I could watch it alone," Albus said, finishing his orange. "And I'm afraid I might spoil it for others…you know my memory."

"Old Man, if you give out spoilers, I will wring your neck."

"I might forget that threat, you know. After all, Severus, I am an old man."

Shit. Dumbledore grins.

I look over at Potter at the Gryffindor Table.

"Fine."

"Excellent. I'll give you the movie once Harry masters occlumency."

"Burn in Mount Doom, Dumbledore," I mutter.

Minerva overhears and slaps my head. A few first years, who were watching us interestedly, giggle. I make a note to take points from Hufflepuff next time I had class with them.