Snape was in a foul mood.
"But, Professor," squeaked that annoying little git in Gryffindor's clothing, Dennis Creevey, "wouldn't you like to see my prestidigination?"
"The term, Mr. Creevey," he said smoothly, not attempting to disguise a most fiendish and unnerving sneer, "is 'prestidigitation,' and to answer your ridiculous question, ten points will be taken from Gryffindor for assuming that sleight-of-hand card tricks could possibly take precedence over brewing Swelling Solutions."
Creevey sat back in his chair, ears bright red.
Snape swished his robes irritably. "The ingredients are written on the board. I expect no dawdling."
With that, he swept back to his chair, pushing greasy strings of hair from his face and realizing that his nose was even oilier than usual.
Perhaps I should cut back on Frogs.
But…I like chocolate.
My dearest Severus…
Ginny Weasley tore her letter up crossly, sighing with frustration.
"Wossamatter?" asked Ron, his face stuffed with Chocolate Frog.
"You couldn't help," she snapped irritably.
Ron shrugged, gulping down the chocolatey contents of his mouth. "Your turn, Harry," he said, turning to the chessboard.
"You know," said Hermione, as Harry ignored the squeaks of protest from the knight and moved it forward four paces, "Professor Snape was looking rather…lost this morning."
"So?" grunted Ron, moving his queen into position to block Harry's pawn. "Serves the greasy git right for making Harry's potion disappear. Again."
"But don't you wonder…why?" sighed Hermione.
"Because he hates the very mention of my name?" suggested Harry sourly.
"No, not that. I meant why he was looking so forlorn."
Ginny sighed. "Perhaps he's in love," she mused, "and was spurned. How…lovely…"
Hermione shot Ginny a suspicious look. "If I didn't know better," she murmured, "I'd think…"
"Oh, stuff it, Hermione," snapped Ginny, looking a tad defensive. "You're the one who makes moon-eyes at him during mealtimes."
Hermione, highly offended, decided to write her Arithmancy parchment and muse on Severus' strange moods elsewhere.
Snape, sitting stiffly at the dinner table, sniffed cautiously at a ripe-looking cucumber.
But is it certified organic?
He noticed, to his immense disquiet, that the Weasley girl and that insufferable know-it-all of a Granger were making moon-eyes at him. Again.
He glanced briefly at Madam Hooch, who was studiously ignoring him.
Thank heavens. He had never been able to keep that hawk-eyed stare for long.
"Peanuts, Professor?" squeaked Flitwick, handing him a bowl full of the crunchy yellow legumes.
"No thank you," said Snape, admiring the subtle grace of Angelina Johnson's fingers as she talked animatedly to her friends. "Peanuts are for pansies."
Flitwick gaped. "I beg your pardon?"
Snape did not respond.
Flitwick huffed a bit, snatching back the bowl of peanuts and passing them instead to Professor McGonagall, who took them eagerly.
Hermione gaped. "He's staring…at Angelina!" she whispered, putting her hands to her mouth.
"Wozzat?" said Ron, his mouth stuffed full with mashed potatoes. A glop dripped down his chin, and he wiped at it irritably.
"That's disgusting, Ron," she snapped. "Why can't you…"
"Because Ron is an unmitigated arse," said Ginny.
"Your Patronus is a bunny," shot back Ron, for lack of a better insult.
"I haven't even got a Patronus," snapped Ginny. "And what was that you said about Angelina?" she asked Hermione.
Hermione blushed scarlet. "Nothing," she said valiantly, turning back to her own plate of food and sipping daintily at her pumpkin juice.
"Hermione, what on earth's got you so upset?" Harry demanded.
"Nothing," she repeated, gnawing fiercely on a drumstick, her eyes drifting back to the teacher's table. "Nothing at all."
Ginny sighed, her eyes adopting a rather dreamy expression as she stared in the same direction.
Ron elbowed Harry. "What are they—"
"Look," whispered Harry, pointing in the direction of their gazes. Ron slowly followed the subtly pointing finger to…
"No," he said abruptly, dropping his goblet with a thud. Pumpkin juice sloshed over the edge, sprinkling the immaculately white tablecloth with specks of unsightly orange.
"It can't be…" he muttered to Harry. "Can it…?"
Harry simply sat in dumb horror. "Must be," he said.
"No," said Ron again, his face pricelessly drained of both blood and appetite. "No."
Harry shook his head. "Reality bites," he said numbly.
"We know," said Ron, back in the common room after dinner. "So you might as well stop pretending."
"Know what?" asked Ginny unconcernedly, popping a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean into her mouth and wincing when it turned out to be boogar-flavored.
Ron opened his mouth confidently, but it opened and closed helplessly with no sound whatsoever. He turned to Harry beseechingly for assistance.
"About Snape," said Harry.
Ginny blushed a shade redder than her hair. "What about Snape?" she asked defensively.
Hermione stared at her. "You too?" she asked incredulously.
When all three stared back, she quavered. "I mean…that is to say…I noticed Angelina staring at him the other day," she stammered.
Ron snorted. "Not likely," he said. "'Fess up, Hermione…"
Hermione's face crumpled. "Oh, all right," she whispered. "I…fancy Snape. There. Happy?"
Harry looked as though he were going to be sick.
Ginny stared at Hermione. "I fancy Snape," she snapped. "You can't have him. He's mine."
Ron's face had turned an odd shade of greenish-white.
"Both too late," said Angelina, tossing her jet-black hair as she walked by. "He was staring at me during dinner."
Hermione gave a strangled noise and Ginny looked as though she were about to leap at Angelina's throat. Which, considering that the three of them usually got on quite famously, was not a very typical situation at all.
"I'm writing him a letter," sobbed Ginny, finally breaking down into tears, "to tell him how much I adore him…and…and….feel sorry for him…"
Hermione attempted to placate her. "Ginny, you can't be serious about…"
"Well, I am," snapped Ginny. "So there."
Angelina sat blissfully in a chair. "He's so…unconventionally handsome," she said. "In an older, slightly oily sort of way."
Ginny wailed.
Hermione gritted her teeth.
Ron and Harry bolted upstairs, unable to stomach any more.
"Ginny," said Hermione nervously, "you're not really planning on writing him that letter, are you?"
Ginny held her head up proudly. "An army of snorkblasts couldn't stop me," she declared.
Snape looked up from grading parchments at his desk. "Ah," he said. "Angelina."
"Professor," she said politely.
The fact that he had not called her Miss Johnson hit him like a ton of bricks. He let the matter drop, however. It wouldn't do to let the guilty expression show on his greasy face.
"Is there something you wanted?" he asked smoothly.
"The homework," said Angelina. "I was working on my potion and didn't hear the assignment."
"Two scrolls of parchment on the healing properties of kingsfort," he said without missing a beat, although his expression flickered the tiniest fraction.
Angelina smiled brilliantly. "Thanks, Professor…" she called, sailing out the door.
Snape swallowed. Damn 40-year-old virginity.
He got up from his desk to check the supply of boomslang skin, when Angelina suddenly called out, as if she had remembered something, "Oh, Professor!" and walked back through the door.
He turned so suddenly that his foot caught on one of the desks and he lost his balance entirely.
As he fell toward the unforgiving stone his last thought was about how nice it would have been to have shag-carpeted floors.
Snape awoke, groggily, his head spinning.
His nice, clean, un-greasy head.
Snape clapped a hand to his temple. The strings hanging there were not oily, nor were they strings. They were in fact, one lovely black mass of healthy-looking hairs.
Someone was leaning over him…
"Who are you," he demanded, "and what have you done with my hair?"
The features of Madame Pomfrey blurred into focus.
"Quiet," she said, and handed him a Chocolate Frog.
Snape took it greedily.
"Miss Johnson's awfully worried about you, you know," remarked Madame Pomfrey off-handedly. "But I sent her off to class. She was late as it was…"
Snape sat up, the room spinning. "She…" he began.
"Shush," said Madame Pomfrey. "Lie back down before you fall off the bed."
Snape sat back reluctantly. "Worried?" he asked incredulously. "In what way?"
"Oh, she was so frantic, fluttering around like a mother pigeon," Madame Pomfrey clucked disbelievingly. "Would you believe it, she dragged you all the way from the dungeons to the hospital wing?"
Snape thought he must have had his ears damaged.
"Used magic, of course, most of the way," said Madame Pomfrey. "Made you float. She would have gotten into a spot of trouble for it, too, if it hadn't been an emergency."
The Potions master shook his head, wondering if he was dreaming.
"She left you a note," said Madame Pomfrey, eyeing the envelope with scrutiny. "I can't imagine why."
She handed it to him, which he took nonchalantly. "I have no idea, myself," he said calmly.
Madame Pomfrey nodded. "Well, you'll be right as rain in a few minutes," she said, "so I'll leave you to read your note and get back to the dungeons. Mind you, though," she said, "you're not to leave that bed until four minutes have gone by. You need a bit of recovery period."
"Agreed," said Snape absently.
Madame Pomfrey looked at him curiously, shrugged, and went to tend to Ernie MacMillan, who had had his ears blown half-off during a badly executed attempt at Expelliarmus.
"I'm giving it to him today," said Ginny to Hermione. "The letter. Didn't you hear? He hit his head and had to go to the hospital wing!"
"Angelina dragged him the whole way," said Fred, grinning. "With magic," he added.
"Got a thing for Snape, she has," said George, shivering. "Can't imagine why."
Ginny and Hermione glared at them.
"Old Snape was humming in the corridor when we passed him," said Fred. "Humming!"
George shook his head. "Never thought we'd see the day…" he muttered. "Even got his hair washed by Madame Pomfrey, so we heard…"
Ginny began wailing again.
Hermione went to comfort herself with Hogwarts, A History.
Angelina, sitting by the fire, smiled dizzily and began to write a poem.
Finis