Out To Get Snape
It had all started when Snape found a mangled tree stump in his bed.
The next day it was a bushel of pixies tied up outside his door.
Every single day, for as long as a month now, some new horror would find its way into his life. Poisonous weeds had been put in his water, long crude rope strung across his clothing, and some wild beast had been set on him with piece of paper strewn with some form of ancient writing, no doubt a deadly curse if read or some kind of death threat.
Someone was out to get him.
The first natural suspect was Potter, but some of the traps were too clever, even for him. And if one put aside the fact that he was too stupid to come up with the ideas (Miss Granger might be helping him, after all) there never appeared to be any form of magic being used. No, the villain out to get him was undoubtedly of a much more sadistic nature, wishing to prolong the agony, than Potter, who did, after all, have some childish notions of honour and fair play.
Was it one of the death eaters? Had they figured out that he was spying on them at last, and decided to play with him for a while before putting an end to his life? But this was both too crude for Voldemort's tastes, and too subtle. He would either kill Snape outright, or toy with him in much nastier ways. And any of the followers, even the redoubtable Lucius, would surely tell Voldemort before deciding on such a course.
He was close to pulling out his hair in frustration. Whoever was out to kill him was the most skilful torturer he had ever encountered!
Down in his hut, Hagrid wondered whether Snape was enjoying his presents, and when he would agree to go out with him.