I slid into consciousness unwillingly, groping for the source of the jarring buzzing sound that was rattling my brain so thoroughly. Hitting the snooze button, I sighed and silently cursed my mother. When I moved to my own flat after Hogwarts, she felt that a Muggle alarm clock was the best way to remember my heritage.
Speaking of remembering…I sank into my pillow, closing my eyes again. What a dream. I could still taste the mystery man's lips, feel his body. No, that's not entirely true. His identity is certainly not a mystery to me.
The man in my dreams is my former potions master, Severus Snape. I don't usually admit this, even to myself, but I know it's true. I sighed again. It doesn't do to dwell on fantasies. I clicked the alarm clock off before it decided I had snoozed enough and willed myself to sit upright.
I really did not want to go to work. I worked at the Ministry of Magic, then, doing some horrible clerical job to keep the cat food in Crookshanks' bowl and the potions ingredients in my private stores. I know I could have asked Snape to provide me with bits of the rarer ones, but I was just too proud.
If you have met Professor Snape, or know of him, you are probably scratching your head, wondering at this seemingly incongruous mention of his generosity. He isn't a bad man. Not nice, definitely, but once you get to know him, once you make it past those first outer defenses…he's really not bad at all.
How did I, Hermione Granger, make it past those outer defenses? Well, it started in my sixth year. NEWT-level potions class…. Harry, who at that point still absolutely despised Professor Snape, blaming him for Sirius' death and all, marched into the common room one night and announced to all of Gryffindor what he had seen in the Pensieve during his Occlumency lessons. I was absolutely floored. Having read my share of Muggle psychology books and the like, it became quite clear to me why Snape was Snape.
Abandoning SPEW immediately (in my mind, anyway), I decided to make Professor Snape my private project. Even though I told Harry off for spilling an obviously private memory, I secretly rejoiced at the chance to improve someone's life.
Now, I know what it's like to be teased for my looks, shunned for my brains, picked on for being different. Maybe that's what inspired me to reach out to someone I felt was a soul mate; if not in the romantic sense, then as someone with similar experiences and background.
Only a few students had been selected for NEWT-level potions. Unfortunately, those few included quite a proportion of Slytherins. At least some Ravenclaws were in there as well, so the tension between me and the Slytherins was not too intolerable. The day after Harry's outburst, however, Draco and Pansy might as well have been on the Moon. All my attention was focused on Professor Snape.
I sat extra straight in my chair, double checked all my measurements, and made a gorgeous Nerve-Steeling Solution. I felt that this potion was particularly appropriate for that day, considering my plan for after class. I managed to drink a bit of the potion when Snape wasn't looking, and by the time he passed my cauldron with the hint of a nod, I was feeling braver than ever.
My plan for that day wasn't drastic; no notes or invitations to tea, not on the first day of my new project. No, that day I simply took meticulous care in bottling and labeling my potion, cleaning out my cauldron, and scrubbing my workspace.
By the time I was finished, Professor Snape and I were the only ones left in the room. He was engrossed in a pile of essays, and didn't look up when I crept to his desk and set my bottle of perfect Nerve-Steeling Solution next to the others, making a dull thump on the desk.
Then he did look up, the acid already on his tongue and the annoyance creeping onto his face. I had expected this, though, and got my say in first:
"Have a good day, Professor Snape," I said, and flashed him my brightest Gryffindor grin.
He was certainly shocked, if not overtly pleased at my first attempts to reach out to him, and I left him looking rather puzzled at my back, as though trying to decide whether I had done anything worth taking points for.
The grin on my face lasted the rest of the day.
I continued this measure for at least two weeks; carefully and slowly bottling and cleaning, leaving the two of us in the classroom alone. Snape had stopped glancing up at the belated thunk of my bottle, but I always gave him my best and brightest smile. I fancied that he sometimes glanced up from whatever paper he was buried in just to see my smile.
No, I wasn't imagining that my Professor was in love with me or anything. The whole idea of love honestly never crossed my mind for at least a few months. I simply wanted to be a bright spot in his day. A constant, positive force that would perhaps at least give the surly man something to think about.
After a month, even Gryffindors can get discouraged, though. Snape was not responding to my smiles or greetings at all. I decided to skip it for a day, just to gauge his reactions.
I bottled my Fingernail Strengthener (don't ask, it's on the NEWT syllabus) with my usual care, and was, of course, the last one to set my bottle on the desk next to the others. This time, however, I said not a word, and headed for the door, my footsteps seeming almost conspicuously loud. My hand was on the classroom doorknob when I was stopped.
"Miss Granger?"
Did he just address me? I turned to look at my Professor, who looked shocked that he had spoken, his expression twisted as though he had just eaten something nasty.
"Yes, Professor Snape?"
He hesitated, as though he didn't want to say anything more, but I suppose he decided that not speaking would be almost as awkward as continuing.
"Well done today." He quickly looked back down into his stack of essays, but not before I caught the barest hint of flush creeping onto his pale cheeks.
"Thank you, sir." I slipped out of the room before it got any more embarrassing in the dungeons, either for Snape or me. I didn't think too much about the blush. I guessed that he just wasn't used to making outbursts like that. I know he had certainly never complimented me before, and it's not exactly as though Fingernail Strengthener is the toughest potion out there. If I hadn't been in the midst of my crusade, I would probably have gone ballistic at that comment, wondering why he hadn't ever complimented any of my difficult potions.
But I was glad that I was making an impression. Obviously one he had gotten used to. That thought heartened me, so I was ready to tackle phase two of Project Snape.
That night after dinner, I hunted down Professor McGonagall in Gryffindor Tower. I knew that she would understand my project, and now I needed some help in deciding how to carry out phase two. She invited me into her office for some tea, and soon I was curled in a newly-transfigured armchair by the fire. McGonagall preferred hard wooden chairs.
I told her all about what I had been doing for the past month, and what Professor Snape had said to me today (but leaving out the blush).
"So, what do you think the next step is? Do you think I'll be able to get to know Professor Snape?" She gazed at me over her glasses for a long moment.
"What exactly are your intentions here, Miss Granger?" Now it was my turn to blush.
"I…oh, I never…I just wanted…. Well, Harry told us about the Pensieve and how rotten his dad was to Professor Snape, and I just thought…I wonder if I can make him smile!" I grew increasingly nervous under McGonagall's stare. I couldn't believe that she thought I was trying to seduce Professor Snape or something!! Finally, she smiled and took a sip of her Earl Gray.
"Hermione," she began, her voice sounding softer than I had ever heard it, "Professor Snape is a very complicated man. What you heard from Harry is a part of the picture, but not the whole of him. For every memory he might have of being tortured by James and Sirius, there is another of him doing the same. I'm not going to pretend that I always knew what was going on between those three, but I can assure you that Severus was not so weak as to let it be so one-sided."
I nodded, sipping my own tea. I smiled at the peppermint flavour, and at McGonagall's mothering touch of not letting me have caffeine before bed.
"Severus…has a past, Hermione, and not a nice one. He is, of course, a changed man, and very much so. He has gained many things since I taught him, confidence especially. The Dark Mark especially." She paused, scrutinizing me with those hawkish eyes, sipping from her cup again. I was very tempted to interrupt and re-explain my motives and goals, but I realized that I was being treated to a very adult conversation, and I decided not to speak.
"This is not to say, my dear, that I think you should discontinue your plan. I just want you to know what you are getting into with a man like Severus Snape. Don't expect him to be nice to you. Don't expect more compliments. If you are serious about this mission to befriend him, don't expect it to be easy." I nodded slowly, taking a gulp of peppermint tea and ready to give up this project.
"You will, of course, have help behind the scenes. I happen to think it is a wonderful idea, and I daresay Albus will be delighted to see Severus smile again, if you can accomplish it." She reached out and patted my hand. "And the two of you are two of the most intelligent and driven students I've ever had the pleasure of teaching. Severus may not have had the aptitude for Transfiguration that you have, but you could always see the intelligence in his eyes…. I think you'll be good for each other…." McGonagall got all misty-eyed, presumably thinking back to the days when Professor Snape was a student. I was a little puzzled by her statements, but happy to know that there would be others working with me to soften Professor Snape.
"Would you like to see a picture of him when he was your age?" McGonagall suddenly had that hawkish look around her eyes. She seemed very determined about something. She can be a frighteningly powerful woman.
"Um, OK," I agreed, ready to get back to the safety of my dorms. Before I had really answered, however, she was up, moving toward her bookcases with the same determination that I could see in her eyes.
"Here we are," she announced, sliding a dusty red-and-gold photo album off the shelves. "I saved a lot of pictures from that year, what with James winning us the House Cup. I'm sure there are a few of Severus in here." She thrust it toward me proudly, and I took it, flipping through the pages. There were lots of blank pockets, and I looked up at McGonagall to ask why.
"I gave all of the pictures of Lily and James to Hagrid for Harry's album. If you find any more, you may give them to him. Now off to bed." She took my half-full teacup and pulled out her wand to Transfigure the chair back to match her office décor. I scurried out of the way, clutching the album. "I'll see you in class tomorrow, Miss Granger."
I headed back to my dorms, ready to pore through the thick album. Luckily, Ron and Harry were not in the Common Room, so I was able to make it up to my bed without any trouble. Lavender and Parvati were giggling together about something, but I flopped onto my four-poster and pulled the curtains round.
Carefully, as though it were some kind of holy relic, I opened the photo album McGonagall had given me. The first handful of pages was mostly empty from where pictures of Harry's parents had once been. Soon, though, I found pictures of other students playing Quidditch, waving at the camera, flipping through books. I kept an eye out for greasy black hair, and soon, I spotted Professor Snape. He was very skinny, very tall, and not very attractive as a sixteen-year-old. In the picture he was shuffling his feet, glancing up at a group of Slytherins every so often. He looked so sad, like such an outsider.
Continuing to pore over every picture, I soon found a better one. This one was a much closer angle, showing Professor Snape in near-profile, his hooked nose standing out sharply. What struck me about this one was that he was smiling. Well, maybe not grinning, but his mouth was definitely perking up at the corners as the magical photograph moved. His hair was swinging forward a bit, the collar of his robes also slightly ruffled by the slight wind. I couldn't tell what he was smiling at, or even if it was a friendly smile, or a mischievous one, but it softened his features, made him almost…attractive?
At that thought, I decided that it was way past my bedtime, and that I was sleepy to the point of delusion. But before I turned off the lights and crawled under the covers, I slid the photograph of young Snape out of the album and under my pillow.