Disclaimer: I own nothing, tra-la-la.
A/n: Don't we just love Severus stories? I've read many very good ones, and sadly, many frightfully awful ones as well. Sometimes, a story takes me by surprise with its ingenuity and I admire the author's originality. Sometimes, clichés run rampant. Either way, Snape stories never fail to fascinate me. I'll share a Snape story with you, but please proceed with an open mind. If the following story resembles yours in any way, any way at all, then I am truly sorry. Otherwise, enjoy.
Summary: Imagine a man, sitting in a room. Imagine the aforementioned man living a life of clichés. Imagine how he would feel. Imagine Snape. A parody of Snape-cliches.
Angry
The black-haired man in the black robes was in a black mood.
By the impetuous age of seventeen, Severus Snape had transcended intelligence, transgressed numerous ethical laws and transmuted curses into revenge. A few decades later he remained jaded, angsty and already a legend.
Or a conniving, hated turncoat, depending on whose perspective one was looking from.
Snape could never understand what in seven hells was going on these days. His life, once purposeful and destined, had suddenly lost all sense of logic. One moment, he was plotting the next attack with the Dark Lord; the next, he felt like redeeming himself and placing flowers at Dumbledore's fancy white tomb.
And there was the messy business with his love life too.
He ground his teeth as he thought of the day he was overwhelmed by forbidden love for his thrice-dammed ex-student, Miss Insufferable Know-it-all Granger. The feelings washed over him like an unforeseen tidal wave – he had innocently woke up one morning, cursed his greasy hair (carefully, since he was a wizard and he didn't want his curses to actually work) and was in the mundane process of brushing his teeth when the explosion occurred.
Snape was commanded by the Dark Lord to seek out Potter's loyal pets, and destroy them all. He had no trouble killing the Weasleys, the Longbottoms and about to kill the Grangers when he saw her.
As a student, she was slender with horrible bushy hair, ugly teeth and bold eyes that seem to know everything there was to know. As a young woman, however, she took his breath away.
Hermione's chest rose and fell dramatically as she looked at him. Her hair was now dead straight, her teeth pearly and she eyed him boldly in a way he found he liked.
"Miss Granger, you know that I must kill you, as the Dark Lord commands. I've always wanted to kill you, actually. Each time you raised your hand in class…I still get nightmares. And you'd quote facts from textbooks, word for word, like a trained parrot. You know nothing, actually. But you look better, not that it matters, because you'll be dead anyway. A lot better, actually, so there'd be many asinine youths weeping at your pathetic funeral. Did I mention that I'll kill you? I-"
"Stop babbling and kiss me, sir," she said, and he did.
Snape shook his head and shuddered at the memory. Sometimes, he wondered if he was losing his mind. That was his worst nightmare, because his mind was all he had. He had learnt to acknowledge at an early age that he didn't have the looks, the high birth or the Galleons, but he did have his intelligence. In that, at least, the gods were kind.
He had another memory as well, one in which the entire wizarding world was coming to an end, and so the marriage law was created. This memory starred the hellcat Hermione Granger as well.
She was silent, and her eyes were red when Dumbledore told her about the Pureblood-Muggleborn marriage. She would have to marry either her Potions Master or Harry's arch-nemesis, Draco Malfoy, and none other. Ron mysteriously didn't count. After many tearful nights, some secret smirks and a lot of angst, she chose Snape, even though he was older and uglier and grumpier.
On their wedding night, however, she discovered that he was still young, lean and quite cheerful, so they lived happily ever after till the end of their days.
Snape downed a glass of Firewhisky in three huge gulps. The Marriage Law? He wondered who was the genius who came up with such a convenient way to make his life a living hell. By the grace of God, he should have been saved from marrying his student by Ron Weasley and Viktor Krum, both of whom seemed eager enough to marry Granger. He shook his head.
But even marrying Hermione wasn't the most bizarre thing that he remembered doing. There was something even worse, two weeks after the day Dumbledore died by his wand…
Harry's breath came in short ragged gasps when he reached the ramshackle building at Spinner's End. There was only one reason to seek out Snape, and that was revenge.
Severus jumped when his front door blasted open. Hurriedly, he spat out the Sugar Quill he was sucking on and put on his best sour glare.
"Traitor!" yelled Harry the instant he saw Snape. "You killed the grandfather I never had! You made millions of readers cry! You will die!"
Snape sighed, and then remembered himself, so he scowled instead. Truth be told, he was starting to rue the day he killed Dumbledore. Voldemort had given him no end of grief, Draco the Ungrateful had scolded him for stealing his glory and Narcissa did not so much as divorce Lucius, like she secretly promised him.
Suddenly, Lupin stepped into the scene.
"You shouldn't kill him," he told Harry. "He is your true father."
"James is my true father! Why else would I look like him? Where's my ugly hook nose then? Where's my dandruffy greasy hair?"
"Potter…I put a spell on you so that you wouldn't look like me," explained Snape, trying not to sound insulted, as he was sensitive when it came to his hair. "I loved Lily when we were younger, but it never worked out, but I now know what I have lost."
Harry stared at Snape, teary-eyed. Snape stared back, misty-eyed.
They hugged and lived happily ever after.
Snape's mood darkened as he thought about how he had come to become Harry Potter's father. He would never have believed it himself, but he remembered the mushy reunion, so it must be true. As if it wasn't bad enough, he had to remember sucking on Sugar Quills as well. Maybe all the sugar's causing the hallucinations, he thought hopefully. Maybe I dreamt it all.
He brushed back a strand of drooping hair from his eyes, and surveyed his little house. His hair was growing too unmanageable, so he tied it carelessly in a ponytail. Maybe I'll grow it long, like a robe, he thought. Maybe when it's long enough I'll accidentally strangle myself in my sleep. Then I wouldn't have to become a double agent for the Order, Granger's husband, Potter's father, Draco's step-father, misunderstood Death Eater, closet Sugar Quill fan, et cetera, et cetera.
"There's somebody here to see you," he heard Peter Pettigrew's voice call out. Snape cursed, and hoped fervently that it wasn't another random character coming to claim parentage or something. His will was already strained, as it was.
Instead, he found the ghost of Dumbledore waiting for him.
Dumbledore…was ethereal. Snape always knew that the late Head of Hogwarts would reign eternal, but he never thought that a wizard like Dumbledore would become choose this path. Heck, even Sirius Black passed on, assuming that he was truly dead. But Dumbledore…?
"Sir," Snape said. Old habits died hard, and the scowls that he tried to form melted on his face. Guilt did that to you.
"My dear Severus," greeted Dumbledore amiably. "How are you doing?"
Snape wanted to grasp the ghost's wrinkled neck and shake him, shouting, "OF COURSE I AM FINE! NEVER BETTER! CAN'T YOU SEE HOW WELL-FURNISHED MY HOUSE IS? SEE HOW HANDSOME I LOOK, HOW FAT I HAVE BECOME ON MEAT AND MEAD? CAN'T YOU GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME TO COUNT MY THOUSANDS OF GALLEONS IN PEACE?"
Instead, he said, "I'm afraid my humble dwelling is quite dilapidated, and even if you could drink, I cannot offer you any Firewhisky as I have just finished the last bottle."
"You haven't been eating well, Severus, as I feared. And living on Firewhisky alone is rather detrimental to health and sanity."
He gave Dumbledore a hard stare, but he was the first to look away. "You were always too concerned for your own good," he snarled.
"And now you should be thankful, because I am here to offer explanations, like the old, kindly Gandalf-y person that I am. We will first assess your situation, and then we'll address the silly way you killed me. Haven't anyone told you before that I want to die while taking at least fifty Death Eaters with me? Now nobody will make any songs about my unheroic death."
Snape started to speak, but Dumbledore held up a hand imperiously. "I heard that you have been leading an eventful life lately. Tell me about it."
Snape glowered, but he was desperate to put an end to the nonsense. "I'll tell you about the day I time-traveled back to my Sixth Year…"
A/n: Please review, I'll appreciate it lots…