Disclaimer:
I don't own the Harry Potter characters, especially not Severus Snape, even though I wish I did. I just like having them run around in my sometimes twisted little world.

A/N:
The poem is an adaptation of Shakespeare's Sonnet 130.

It Takes Two

It was the crack of dawn, when Severus woke from a light weight that suddenly settled on his right shoulder. Sleepily he roused, not at all willing to get up quite yet, not even when a faint brush ghosted over his face.
"No," he mumbled, trying to shrug off that annoying disturbance. "It's too early."
"Hoo," he perceived, persistently and alarmingly close to his ear, and, defiantly, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter.
It was to no avail, though, because after a few moments he felt sharp claws punching into his flesh and with a yelp Severus sat up in his bed.
"Are you insane?" he shouted at the black barn owl that had flown up at Severus' sudden movement. "This shirt is pure silk!"
Elegantly, the owl landed on his nightstand, not making a sound, and inclined its head as if in disbelief.
"Alright, alright," Severus admitted, miserably. "100% cotton."
He sighed and part of him genuinely regretted taking pity on this bird over a year ago on a stormy autumn evening. A retired post owl it was, dismissed from its charges because of a complaint Severus had made himself, and on a whim he had adopted the bird. Over the months they had gotten used to each other – Severus had tried to accept the owl's idiosyncrasies that it certainly had and the owl looked upon Severus with indulgence, whenever he didn't feel like sharing his evening biscuits with it. Naturally, the bird had lost a lot of weight, which Severus noticed, when his letters suddenly arrived quicker than before. Only the smooth black feathers and the amber eyes had stayed the same.
"Fine," Severus finally gave in. "What is it? What do you want? Food? There are some seeds left in your bowl, but if you feel like …"
He stopped abruptly, when he noticed the small scrolled up note on the pillow next to his head.
"Did you throw that at me?" he demanded.
"Hoo," the owl replied, matter-of-factly.
Severus inhaled deeply, picking up the scroll.
"That would be item number 57 on the list," he muttered. "No throwing of letters at me."
Dignified, the bird turned away its head.
"Yes, go ahead," Severus snorted. "Try to ignore me. See if I care."
Apparently, the owl didn't care either and shaking his head about the bird's stubbornness, Severus took a closer look at the note he had received.
"Professor S. Snape," it said on the tag, attached to the green ribbon that was holding the scroll together.
Severus frowned. The dot behind the 'S' of his first name was not actually a dot. It was a small circle, which was curious. Who would do such a thing? And who would use charcoal coloured ink? It was definitely the colour charcoal – Severus was certain about that. He knew charcoal ink, when he saw it, because when it came to different shades of ink he was an expert – *the* expert probably. He couldn't imagine anyone else, who would collect ink as a private hobby, except him.
Carefully, Severus unrolled the note and raised an astonished eyebrow, as he realized that the text the scroll contained was a poem, a sonnet actually, and it sounded strangely familiar to him.

My prince's eyes are nothing like the sun;
coral is far more red than his lips' red;
If snow be white, why then his face is wan;
if hairs be wires, black wires grow on his head.

I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
but no such roses see I in his cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
than in the breath that from my dark prince reeks.

I love to hear him speak, yet well I know
that music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a deity go;
my dark prince, when he walks, treads on the ground:

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
as any he belied with false compare.

Severus blinked a few times, until he was sure that the lines he had just read were not an illusion, but definitely there, written neatly in charcoal coloured ink on this small piece of parchment.
"Hoo?" the owl demanded, curiously, and quickly Severus rolled up the note again, afraid the bird might have learned to read after all the time it had spent here at Hogwarts.
"Er… nothing," Severus lied. "It's nothing of importance, really. No need to worry."
He attempted an innocent smile, but apparently the owl couldn't be fooled. It stared at him intently and Severus glared back, trying not to blink first. Unfortunately, the bird was well trained when it came to staring contests and after almost seven minutes, when Severus' eyes had already begun to water, he finally gave up.
"Alright, you win again," he admitted, rubbing his hurting eyes. "And if you tell me, who sent this note, I will tell you what it said."
The owl lowered its head and it was then that Severus realized: the bird, clever as it was, might have learned to read, but talking was definitely out of its league.
"My mistake," he said, apologetically. "Obviously, you cannot tell me, who the sender of this letter is, so forget I ever asked."
With that Severus got up and stuffed the scroll into his robes pocket. He had learned to be careful. Letting personal stuff lying around could easily become a weapon against oneself, if it got into the wrong hands and a Valentine's note – which Severus decided this was, considering today's date –, declaring openly that he was thought and cared about, would certainly pose a risk.
But to his own surprise these fourteen lines put him in a cheerful mood. Maybe it was the thrill of not knowing, who the anonymous admirer was, who had sent this letter to him that made him so unusually chipper, because it made the note even more mysterious and Severus liked mysterious.
With any luck, this was going to be a good day.

Naturally, luck was the only thing that had never been on Severus' side, especially not on Valentine's day. Sitting at the High Table for breakfast, Severus shut his eyes tightly, but that didn't prevent him from hearing what Lockhart was announcing to everyone present and for once Severus couldn't believe his own ears. Lockhart must be crazy! Wasn't the heart-shaped confetti showering down from the ceiling morale-booster enough? Did Hogwarts really need dwarves dressed as Cupids, running around the school, delivering Valentines to cheer up everybody's mood?
Severus glanced sideways at Flitwick, who was sitting right next to him. He was a dwarf and for a split second Severus tried to picture him dressed up as a Cupid, but as the mental image developed before his inner eye he quickly discarded the thought. It was not a pleasant sight at all. If anything, it was disturbing.
Disturbing was also what Lockhart was going on about. Severus seriously wished he wouldn't have to listen to this nonsense any longer, deciding, whoever designed the human body had made a huge mistake to begin with by making the eyes closable and the ears not. Severus inhaled deeply to calm himself down, clenching his hands into tight fists, so he would resist sticking his finger into his ears. The day hadn't even started properly and he already had quite enough. The moment he had entered the Great Hall he had wanted to leave again, but Dumbledore had dragged him in, before ordering him to sit down quietly and completely stunned Severus had obeyed. All of his colleagues seemed to be equally annoyed by Lockhart's performance, because whenever Severus opened his eyes for a second or two he recognized the same expression on their petrified faces, maybe without the murderous glare that Severus produced, tough.
"Just ignore him," McGonagall, who was sitting to Severus' left, whispered through clenched teeth as if she sensed that Severus was about to strangle Lockhart, until he choked on his own words.
"You first," Severus retorted, inwardly amused about McGonagall's impatient behaviour.
"I'm trying to."
"Any luck?"
"Not so far," McGonagall said, regretfully. "You?"
Instead of an answer, Severus snorted and McGonagall confirmed it with a nod. It didn't happen too often that they agreed on a matter, but when it came to Gilderoy Lockhart and his crazy ideas they curiously concurred.
Severus heaved a sigh, when Lockhart's small speech spiced with silly suggestions finally ended, but he had lost his appetite a while ago, when Flitwick had sneezed on his waffle, just as Lockhart called him a sly old dog. Severus didn't even accepted Flitwick's apology or wished him a good health and certainly didn't hold Flitwick back, when he slid from his chair and left the Great Hall, muttering angrily to himself. Sluggishly Severus helped himself to a strong cup of coffee instead, but even that was spoilt, when suddenly Lockhart approached and sat down right next to Severus in Flitwick's empty seat.
"Top of the morning, my dear colleagues," Lockhart said with a broad smile on his face, addressing both Severus and McGonagall. "Now, wasn't that the most brilliant of my idea?"
Holding up his hand he caught some heart-shaped confetti and blew them at Severus and if it hadn't been for McGonagall, who grabbed Severus' cloak just in time to restrain him, Severus would have jumped at Lockhart and wrung his neck. Lockhart must have sensed the intention – or perceived the glare of fury in Severus' eyes – for he paled a little and shrugged apologetically.
"You are in an ill mood today, Severus," he remarked, his voice a little less cheerful than before. "Any particular reason why?"
Severus squinted his eyes.
"Take a wild guess."
"Hmmm …" Lockhart mused. "I want to say it's because you haven't received at least one Valentine's card so far. Am I correct?"
"No, that's not it," Severus growled.
"So, you *have* received a Valentine's card!"
Lockhart clapped his hands together.
"Good for you, Severus, good for you!" he praised. "Now tell me: Who is your darling Valentine? I am so curious!"
"Oh, don't be silly, Gilderoy," McGonagall intervened. "Severus? Receive a Valentine's card? That's just as likely as a student fighting a troll and live to tell the tale!"
"Indeed?" Severus sneered. "May I remind you that your Gryffindor pride and joy Potter and his friends managed to triumph over that Mountain Troll Quirrell let in last year at Halloween?"
"You're right," McGonagall admitted, miserably. "Sheer dumb luck, though …"
"But that would mean it *is* possible for Severus to receive a Valentine's card," Lockhart added for consideration and his smile broadened. "How many Valentine's cards do you expect, then?"
"Hopefully none from you, Lockhart, especially if it going to be delivered by one of your stupid Cupids."
Lockhart made a dismissive gesture.
"Rest assured, Severus, you will not receive a Valentine's card from me," he said, casually. "That would be humiliating, wouldn't it? For you rather than for me."
"Interesting," Severus replied. "How so?"
"Because everyone would know that I had done it out of pity," Lockhart answered. "They would applaud me for my generosity, of course, but imagine what it would do to your reputation."
"Don't you worry about my reputation, Lockhart," Severus snapped. "I have been at this school for over a decade, however, I doubt that you will last longer than your predecessor."
"We will see, Severus," Lockhart said, boastfully. "The students seem to like me. At least forty-six of them do. And here's another one!"
His eyes flashed up, when an owl swooped in and dropped a letter right in front of Lockhart.
"See," he said, glancing at Severus, apparently in the hope of receiving applause, which, of course, he did not. "Everyone fancies me."
"Not everyone," McGonagall muttered under her breath, but so silently that only Severus could perceive it.
"Well, then," Lockhart said, pocketing his Valentine's card as he rose from his chair. "I need to go now. Lots to do, lots to do …"
He smiled.
"I'll be seeing you," he then added, before he turned to McGonagall. "Minerva …"
He inclined his head, just so his wavy hair wouldn't get messed up, and strode away.
"Peacock," McGonagall remarked, bitterly, as Lockhart's flamboyant robes swooshed out of the door.
"There is no need for insults, Minerva," Severus smirked. "Peacocks are beautiful animals. Calling Lockhart a peacock would be a disgrace for any peacock, who ever walked this earth."
And without waiting for McGonagall to reply, he got up and walked away, but he was almost sure that he had heard her calling him an overgrown bat.

Severus' mood didn't improve at all after breakfast for the day turned out to be a complete disaster and when lunch time came, Severus decided not to frequent the Great Hall. Firstly, because he didn't feel particularly hungry and secondly, who knew what crazy stunt Lockhart would pull this time? Even after hours Severus still found heart-shaped confetti in his robes and it itched terribly, but much worse than that were the dwarves. Those were exceptionally hard to bear and when one of them eventually stopped just in front of Severus' classroom, delivering a Valentine to a fourth year Hufflepuff student in a annoyingly squeaky voice, Severus allowed himself to kick the dwarf out of his dungeons – literally. He didn't care that there might be consequences – like a verbal slap on the wrist from Flitwick, who was concerned about his kin, a 'tut, tut' from McGonagall, who disapproved of violence entirely, and a frown from Dumbledore, who would have to defend Severus' actions before the Ministry of Magic in order to protect him – he just wouldn't stand for this sort of silly celebration of a feast that was certainly invented by a flower, candy and card store.
Severus sighed exhaustedly as he leaned back in his chair, totally stressed out, and rubbed his temples.
"Attack of migraine, I assume."
The voice made Severus sit up straight again and startled he looked at the office door. A girl, most likely a seventh year considering her age and height, was standing there, a heap of books clutched to her chest and a crooked smile on her face.
Severus cleared his throat.
"Most students knock before they enter my office," he admonished.
"Most teachers close their doors if they want to work uninterrupted," the girl retorted.
Severus took a deep breath. That was all he needed right now – another student, trying to be clever.
"I am not having an attack migraine, even though you are doing your best to cause one and I'd appreciate it if you stopped enquiring about my health."
"I didn't," the girl replied. "I was merely stating the obvious."
"My health is none of your business," Severus established.
"But it is," the girl contradicted. "If I am the possible cause for a migraine attack then it certainly is my business."
"Merlin help us, another know-it-all," Severus muttered under his breath, before he rubbed his face and gave the girl a consternated glare. "Alright, let's get this over with! What do you want from me, except disturbing my peace of mind, which, by the way, you are doing?"
"Actually," the girl began, hesitantly. "I was only wondering if you received the essays that I sent to you."
"Essays?" Severus repeated. "I didn't demand any essays from my seventh year classes lately, so what are you talking about?"
"That is a long story …"
"Do me a favour, then, and try to make it as quickly as possible."
The girl inhaled deeply.
"I got transferred from another school to Hogwarts and since my N.E.W.T.s are coming up soon, I didn't want to fall behind, so I wrote all the essays you have ordered your seventh year classes to write so far."
"Are you some sort of swot?" Severus asked, suspiciously.
"Yeah, maybe …"
The girl smiled again.
"Knowledge is power and since I am not exactly the sharpest quill in the ink pot, I have to put in a bit of an effort to get good grades," she explained. "Do some extra work, study a little harder, the usual stuff. I want to do great in my exams, so I can get a well-paid job and earn some serious money, you know."
"Yes, I do know."
"Well, of course you do," the girl agreed. "You are quite brainy yourself, professor. I noticed."
"When did you notice?" Severus asked, sharply. "I cannot recall you attending my classes."
"That's probably because I was always sitting in the back of the room," she admitted. "All the other seats were already taken when I arrived. But even from the last row I could see right away that you have great knowledge about potions."
"As a potions teacher it is expected."
"Not necessarily," the girl contradicted. "The school I was attending before I came to Hogwarts was not so lucky in their choice of teachers. They would let things slide. We were allowed to eat and drink during classes, we could even get up and leave if we wanted to …"
"What kind of school did you attend?"
"The worst of all, I presume," the girl said, bitterly. "I am so happy to be here at last. I wrote a dozen appeals to get transferred to another school, but they were always refused, so I wrote directly to Professor Dumbledore and he invited me for an interview, which I passed, curiously only because I accepted a Sherbert Lemon, and now … here I am."
"So, I see," Severus remarked. "What I do not remember seeing is your essays. I cannot recall receiving any."
"But I did send them to you," the girl said, miserably. "It was quite a bunch. Please, tell me you haven't lost them."
"I most certainly did not lose them," Severus insisted. "I never received them in the first place."
"Damn," the girl cursed under her breath. "Damn, damn, and double damn."
"Language, please," Severus warned. "You don't want me to take points from your house, do you?"
He frowned.
"What house are you in, anyway?"
Smirking, the girl lowered the books, which had hidden the badge and tie of her uniform and it was then that Severus realized that she was indeed a Slytherin.
No, he couldn't possibly take away point from his own house! This year he intended to win the House cup, no matter what.
"I am very sorry, sir," the girl apologized. "It's just that I put so much effort in my work …"
She paused, when Severus made a dismissive gesture.
"Please, spare me the details," he demanded. "I suggest that you either re-write your essays and possibly receive a good grade or you just drop the matter and content yourself with a mediocre grade."
The girl sighed.
"Actually I was hoping on a brilliant grade in potions."
"Well, good luck with re-writing your essays then!" Severus retorted, folding his arms in front of his chest. "Anything else?"
"No," the girl said, dully. "That's all."
"Then what are you still doing here?"
"I'm thinking."
"Can you do that somewhere else, please?" Severus said, losing his patience. "I have a lot of stupid work to do and an annoying owl to feed."
"I understand," the girl said with a smile, turning to leave. "I won't keep you from your work then."
"Most kind of you," Severus said, sarcastically, before he turned his attention back to the essays he had been marking.
There were loads and they were all overdue.
"It's a beautiful animal, by the way," the girl added and Severus looked up again.
"Thank you," he answered, baffled.
The girl smiled.
"Good bye, sir."
And with that she slipped out of Severus' office.

Tired and exhausted and haunted by a terrible headache, Severus slumped into the armchair in front of the fireplace in his sitting room. This has been the most horrible day in weeks, with the exception of the arrival of the Valentine's note this morning, which was still well hidden inside his robes.
Leaning back his head, Severus closed his eyes and only the faint draught on his face told him that his owl had left its perch in his bedroom to keep Severus company.
"And how was your day?" he asked, without opening his eyes. "Eventful?"
"Hoo," the owl responded evenly and judging from the sound it must have settled on the arm of Severus' chair.
"So we had pretty much the same day," Severus established, before he carefully reached out to tickle the owls head.
It was quiet and peaceful – the perfect evening. Severus was glad that this day was almost over, merely three and a half hours were left and he was just thinking about making himself a cup of coffee to get rid of his headache, when he heard a loud and very demanding knock on his door.
Startled the owl flew up and Severus jerked open his eyes, cursing under his breath, but since the knocking wouldn't stop, he got up and opened the door, only to find Lockhart leaning casually against the doorframe.
"Good evening, Severus," Lockhart greeted him, pleasantly. "May I come in?"
He didn't even wait for a reply, but walked straight past Severus and looked around in his sitting room.
"How tedious you decorate your accommodations," Lockhart mused. "Then again, not everyone can be as tasteful as I am."
Severus raised an astonished eyebrow. Lockhart didn't have taste. He lost it with a marble or two a while ago. That cloak alone was resentful. Severus had never seen so many different colours on one human being.
"Why are you here, Lockhart?" he enquired. "Not to rebuke me for the lack of decoration in my private chambers, I presume."
"No, no …"
Lockhart made a dismissive gesture.
"I have a problem of sorts."
Severus rolled his eyes.
"Another colleague with a problem," he mumbled. "Just what I was looking for today!"
"Maybe you want to close that door," Lockhart suggested. "Or do you wish anyone to overhear our conversation?"
"That depends on the subject of our conversation."
"The subject of our conversation is my latest book," Lockhart explained.
"'Magical Me'?"
Severus grimaced, slamming the door shut.
"If you think that I bought that stupid thing …"
"You haven't bought it yet?" Lockhart interrupted astonished. "But it's a bestseller!"
"Well, people like trash, apparently."
"It's not trash, it's my autobiography," Lockhart insisted. "People are interested in me. They want to know the real me. So I gave it to them."
"Just what the world needed," Severus replied, dryly. "Another tome that will be sold off on the rummage table at Flourish & Blotts for a sickle next year."
"No, it won't!" Lockhart contradicted. "Maybe you haven't realized, but I am quite popular. Why do you think I received 64 Valentine's cards today?"
"This morning at breakfast it was only 46."
"This morning at breakfast, yes," Lockhart answered. "But meanwhile, I have received 64."
"All from some hormone driven teenagers, I assume," Severus smirked.
"No," Lockhart said, a bit too quickly. "Not at all. I have fans worldwide."
"And surely they all wanted to send you a card," Severus remarked, mockingly. "How lovely!"
"It is lovely, indeed," Lockhart agreed, oblivious to the sarcasm. "That's why I want to reward my fans with a special book that I have just started writing."
With that he pulled out a huge manuscript from under his colourful robes and flapped it on the small coffee table between the two armchairs in front of the fireplace.
"So?" Severus demanded, regarding the book with a disgusted frown.
"I want you to take a look at it," Lockhart demanded, plunging himself into the left of the two armchairs. "I need an opinion of someone, who is concerned. You can make suggestions, of course."
"I suggest you throw that thing into the fire," Severus said, promptly. "Do you want me to help you with that? I happen to have a nice fire right here …"
"Don't you dare!" Lockhart exclaimed as Severus pointed at the fireplace. "It took me two months to write it."
"Time well spent, I'm sure," Severus supposed, but again the sarcasm prominent in his voice was lost on Lockhart.
"Indeed," he answered, seriously. "Best two months of my life. Now, will you please read it?"
Severus took a deep breath. Part of him wanted to know what sort of nonsense Lockhart's mind was really able to produce and this was the opportunity. With a sigh he picked up the manuscript and sat down in the other armchair, thumping through the closely written pages, until he eventually noticed the title of the work on the top of every page.
"Who Am I?" he read, half aloud. "10 steps to find the real you and share it with others."
Lockhart smiled broadly.
"Great title, isn't it?" he raved. "177 sizzling pages full of good advice and great tips for …"
"So, this is basically a self-help book?" Severus interrupted.
"Yes," Lockhart confirmed. "I thought I should try something new."
"Hmmm," Severus replied, unconvinced. "And you are absolutely sure that I am the right person to … review it?"
Lockhart smiled, mildly.
"Why, Severus, I thought, you of all people would appreciate a little guidance, seeing that you neither have a partner nor any relationship, currently," he explained. "If I didn't know any better, which I actually don't, I would say, you never had a girlfriend before at all."
Severus inhaled, deeply, forcing himself to stay calm, then he produced a menacing smile.
"Who says I was interested in *girls*?" he replied.
For a second, Lockhart was stunned. His rosy cheeks became pale, even his cloak seemed to have lost a little colour and Severus enjoyed the moment of seeing Lockhart speechless for once. Unfortunately, it didn't last for long.
"You … er…"
Lockhart coughed uncomfortably.
"Are you telling me … that you are …"
He cleared his throat, apparently unable to speak the word.
"I am not telling you anything … Gilderoy," Severus said, emphasising Lockhart's first name, and simply couldn't resist patting Lockhart's right hand that was resting on the arm of his chair.
Lockhart froze instantly and Severus cherished the funny expression on his face.
"So, are you …?" Lockhart asked, coughing embarrassed as he slowly retrieved his hand. "Or are you not …?"
Severus shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, partly to hide his smirk and partly because he couldn't believe how stupid Lockhart was. He actually wondered how Lockhart had made it into Ravenclaw or into becoming a Hogwarts teacher.
"Relax, Lockhart," Severus said instead. "I am not hitting on you. Although … I do feel like punching your face every time that you speak, especially, when you are addressing me."
Lockhart chuckled, nervously. Apparently, he wasn't buying it yet. He didn't even objected the insult and Severus knew that it didn't matter, how strongly he would insist that this had not been a cheap come-on, the news would be all over Hogwarts the next day – unless of course, he would put a memory charm on Lockhart, which, unfortunately, was highly forbidden.
"Well, anyway," Lockhart finally said, glancing at the longcase clock in the left hand corner. "I am tremendously late and I have classes very early next morning."
With that he quickly jumped out of his seat and stood, smoothing down his flamboyant robes.
"You may keep the manuscript if you like," Lockhart said, generously. "I have a copy."
It was a lie, so much could Severus tell, but he didn't comment on it.
"I shall be eternally grateful for it," he said instead, mockingly. "Maybe it will give me some inspiration for *my* next book."
Lockhart frowned.
"Come again?"
"I said, I might pick up some ideas for the next book I intend to write," Severus answered.
"So you …"
Lockhart gulped.
"You wrote a book?" he asked, incredulously.
"I most certainly did."
"You actually wrote a real book?"
"Yep."
"About what?" Lockhart demanded, his face blushing.
"Nothing that would take your fancy."
"I still want to know."
"Why?"
"Because."
There was definitely a hint of anger in Lockhart's voice – anger and jealously.
"Are you afraid, my work could be a success?" Severus asked, amused. "Do you fear I could suddenly become more popular than you?"
Apparently, he hit the nail right on its head.
"Afraid?" Lockhart exclaimed. "I? Afraid of you?"
He threw out a laugh.
"If they put your ugly mug on the book cover it will certainly become a shelf hugger," Lockhart suspected. "Have you ever cared about taking a look in the mirror lately?"
Severus swallowed hard. He knew he didn't have the looks of the famous Gilderoy Lockhart, but that didn't give Lockhart reason to turn on Severus in that manner.
"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Severus," Lockhart continued. "But you look like someone who has been dragged from the gutters. I have seen Mountain Trolls better looking than you are, monsters even, and let's not forget about that hag I met. You do run a very close second to that vampire I encountered, though, but unlike you it had charisma and style and a sense of good humour."
"Are you quite finished?" Severus hissed.
"Not by a long chalk," Lockhart replied. "I could go on for hours, but as I said, I am running out of time. I need to look my best for tomorrow's classes."
Severus pursed his lips.
"I may not look as good as you do, but at least I can write properly."
He opened the manuscript and pointed at the first page.
"Here," he said, plainly. "Five spelling mistakes, three grammatical errors and seven split infinitives, all in one paragraph. Seriously, Lockhart, are you sure, English is your first language?"
All of a sudden Lockhart's smile had disappeared and was replaced by an expression of fury.
"Oh, you are sooo clever, aren't you, Severus!" he mocked, his nostrils flaring. "Sooo clever that you don't even notice what is going on in the world. Only you and your stinking potions, that's all you care about. No wonder you didn't receive a single Valentine's card today!"
"I …" Severus began, but stopped just in time.
No. That note, even though it might have been written on an impulse, was precious to him. He wouldn't tell Lockhart about it. Lockhart would only make fun of it. It was best not to argue.
"Oh, I know what you want to say," Lockhart huffed. "You want to tell me that you didn't care for Valentines, that you can well live without them and that being liked would only pose a risk to you. Well, I have got news for you: It's for the best you don't care about Valentines, because you will have to live without them, because, believe it or not, no one likes you – not your colleagues, not your students, not even that stupid bird over there."
He pointed at the owl that sat huddled in the window frame, as if it didn't want to be seen. Obviously it had been listening to the whole conversation and now, being noticed after all, the bird ruffled its feathers and glared at Lockhart, angrily.
"I have never seen an uglier animal," Lockhart continued. "It is just sitting there, all dull and boring with its filthy black feathers and yellow eyes …"
"Amber eyes," Severus improved.
"Amber eyes, yellow eyes – even if its eyes were made of pure gold it would still be an ugly boring bird."
"You forgot to mention 'dull' and 'filthy'!"
"I wonder why you chose it," Lockhart went on, ignoring Severus' interjection. "Maybe because you are just as dull and boring as that stupid animal is with that ugly gob of yours and your filthy hair. I dare say you two deserve each other."
With that Lockhart strode to the door, where he stopped.
"You are such a sad little man, Severus," he said, thoughtfully. "A sad little man with a boring bird. I really pity you."
He pressed the handle and opened the door, but before he left he hesitated.
"Actually, I do not."
Determined he walked out and slammed the door behind him, leaving Severus to himself.
The quiet noise of swift wings broke the silence and a moment later the owl landed, softly on Severus' shoulder.
"Funny," he mused. "The last time you did this you weighed twice of what you weigh now."
"Hoo," said the owl, proudly.
"We did good together, didn't we?"
"Hoo," the owl confirmed.
"So, what do we do about the pretty boy that just left, hm?"
"Hoo," the owl suggested.
"Right you are," Severus agreed with a nod. "We ignore him. He may be handsome on the outside, but on the inside he is quite ugly."
Instead of an answer the owl began nibbling at Severus' earlobes and making an exception, Severus didn't object.

It was way after curfew when a quiet knock on the door disturbed Severus once more.
"If this is Lockhart again, having a laugh, I swear I poke his eyes out," Severus mumbled, but for once he was wrong.
When Severus opened the door he recognized the girl from this afternoon, the seventh year, who had asked him about the essays he never received. But how did she look? All messed up, her mousy hair untidy and her cloak covered in dust as if she had spent the whole day cleaning the attic of the castle.
"I am so sorry to disturb you, sir," she apologized. "I know it's late, but …"
She stopped abruptly, her face scrunching up, and sneezed, loudly.
Disgusted, Severus took a step back from her. A bad cold was the last thing he could use right now and if he did indeed catch one, he would certainly have this girl have detention for a month.
"Dust bunnies," she explained. "I have been rummaging through my entire trunk all day to find my …"
"Is there a particular reason, why you are here?" Severus interrupted.
"Well, I told you before, sir," the girl replied. "I applied to come to Hogwarts, because my old school was rubbish."
"Are you having a laugh?" Severus asked.
"No!"
"Because if you are, I will give you detention that will make your head spin, no matter what house you are in, do you understand?"
The girl nodded.
"Perfectly, sir."
"So, again," Severus said, impatiently. "Why are you here? And I mean here, at my doorstep, looking like you have been living on the street for a week. Are you rehearsing the drama class' re-enactment of 'Little Match Girl'?"
The girl bit her lips.
"I'm afraid, I don't follow," she said, confused. "Who is the little match girl? And what drama class are you talking about?"
Severus inhaled deeply.
"It doesn't matter," he answered. "Just ignore me, alright?"
"I couldn't possibly do that, sir," the girl gasped. "You my head of house, so your word is gospel."
"Then why don't you answer my question?" Severus demanded. "What are you doing here at this time of night?"
The girl suddenly looked embarrassed.
"You remember that I asked you earlier if you received my essays …"
"No, it totally slipped my mind," Severus snapped, sarcastically.
"Really?"
"No!" Severus said annoyed. "Of course I remember! Do you think I am demented?"
"I certainly hope you are not!" the girl replied. "It would be a shame, really. A brilliant mind like yours going to waste … I hate even to think about it."
She shook her head as if to shake off a bad memory and a few dust particles fell out from her hair.
"Anyway," she then continued. "I asked you earlier, if you received my essays, which I said I had sent you, but when I checked my notes, I realized that there was a mix-up."
"Mix-up?"
"I did send you something, but it wasn't my essays …"
She lowered her head.
"It was … something else."
"And what was it, may I ask?"
"Some sort of letter."
Suddenly it dawned on Severus. The Valentine's note from this morning! So she sent it to him …
"A letter?" he repeated, trying to gain time to contemplate his options.
"Well, a note, more likely," the girl improved. "Do you still have it, sir?"
Instead of an answer Severus reached into his pocket and produced the scroll.
"That's it," the girl said, nodding. "May I … may I have it back, please?"
"Why do you want it back?" Severus enquired. "You sent it to me."
"Yes, but it was a mistake," the girl admitted. "A mix-up, as I said before. I am so confused lately."
"So was I when I received this … note."
The girl's eyes widened.
"You haven't read it, sir?" she asked, alarmed. "Have you?"
"What if I did?" Severus replied.
"Then I would feel most embarrassed, sir," the girl admitted. "It was only a silly joke. You were never meant to see it."
Severus was stunned. From all the possible situations he had considered happening from this moment on, this one had never crossed his mind.
"A joke," he repeated, flatly. "I understand."
"Tell me you didn't read it," the girl begged. "Please."
"I didn't read it," Severus lied. "Didn't have the time."
"Oh, good!"
The girl sighed in relief.
"Here," Severus added, holding out the scroll. "You can have it back, if you want … since it wasn't meant for me."
"I never said it wasn't meant for you," the girl corrected, quickly pocketing the scrolled up note. "I only said you were not meant to read it. That's a difference."
"I don't see any difference," Severus maintained.
"You are a clever man, sir," the girl replied. "You will figure it out."
She grinned.
"Oh, and before I forget again," she added, producing another scroll, a much thicker one, from the insides of her robes. "Here are my essays at last. I hope they comply with your scientific standards."
"I am sure they will be fit for a king," Severus said, sarcastically.
"Not for a king, no," the girl supposed. "For a prince, yes."
She gave him a look that Severus couldn't quite decipher and he noticed that for the second time she had referred to him as a prince.
How could she possibly know that in a streak of teenage pride he had labelled himself as the Half-Blood Prince?
No, he then decided, she couldn't know. She couldn't even guess! She didn't do this on purpose. It was only a coincidence, nothing more.
"Well, then," the girl dragged him out of his thoughts. "It is late and I don't want to receive a detention for being out of bed after hours, so … I bid you good night."
She didn't wait for a reply but turned on her heel and strode off and it was then that Severus realized that she never mentioned her name, but he couldn't call after her and ask for her name now, could he?
It was too late anyway, she had already disappeared and thoughtfully, Severus closed the door. Then he ripped off the green ribbon from the scroll and looked at the top of the first essay. And there is was – in charcoal coloured ink and a little circle instead of a dot – her name.
"Cathy Hamilton."
Severus smiled to himself.
"Maybe not fit for a queen," he mused. "But certainly fit for a princess."