I hope those out there like this story! It is also based on Hermione's point of view, just to let you know in case you're confused.
Please be kind and review! (And don't mind me replying to them...I like letting readers know their views are known and accepted.)
Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter.
My Mid-Year Crisis
By Dear Me
"Oh, wow, look at that body!"
Ginny squeals in delight for some odd reason causing me to turn and recognize that the black, forbidding presence of Snape was in Ginny's lovesick sight. At this, I have to roll my eyes and continue to the Great Hall despite Ginny's immature squeals to draw attention to both of us. It wasn't in any way unselfish; it was just how Ginny decided to make her presence known.
Even though she was dating and having sex with Harry close to all the time, she still seems to have the ability to unleash more hormones than necessary. I suppose it is a Weasley thing.
At the mention of Weasley's, I could see Ron begin to latch his unprofessional, sloppy lips onto Lavender's face.
And to think I wanted that.
I continue to make it to the Gryffindor table with all eyes on the giggling Ginny behind me. She was obviously pleased; Snape must have spared her a glance or he must have been scowling behind her at Ron's lust-filled actions that desired to be fulfilled in public.
I didn't understand how she could like a professor like that. He haunted everyone's nightmares since our first ever Potion's class, poor Neville an example.
But I had to ignore Ginny as best I could or I'd fall into the trap of wanting to giggle with her and try to speculate how talented our Potion's Master's hands could be.
Seriously, what did years of stirring cauldrons and cutting up roots mean to how talented he was at groping women?
I sit down and try to pull a plate of toast to me before Ginny can try to devour the food in front of her and re-tell the 'sexy' position Snape found her in within Harry's arms last Tuesday night. If Snape caught me in the situation of being so close to shagging in a broom cupboard, I'm sure I'd die from embarrassment than be so keen as to try to seduce Snape in front of my lover.
I try to eat and ignore Ginny as she begins to recite the dream she had of Snape over her, making passionate love to her. Oh, lord, must she try to tell me this when I'm trying to get a decent meal into my stomach? It's bad enough seeing Ron's tongue lapping up Lavender's nostril instead of down her throat, but being told about Snape's facial features when he's orgasming? Ah, please stop this!
The fates have finally decided to be on my side this morning, and into the Great Halls come in a pleased Harry. Ginny must have finally let him put a sock into her mouth last night; to tell you the truth I didn't hear her moaning as much as I was normally accustomed to.
Oh, no, I'm starting to think perverted thoughts! Ginny, it's your entire fault! I hope Snape ignores you! And Harry as well!
When Ginny and Harry begin to discuss the next Quidditch practice, I try not to become intrigued at imaging what Snape must look like when he's about to orgasm. I settle the end of the pointless argument by looking at Snape at the Head Table to see him sneer at the flock of noisy Ravenclaw's chattering. I imagine his sneer above my naked face and body.
Yes, that stops the end of the perverted thoughts. Who wants a lover sneering at them when they're trying to enjoy what their partners are giving them?
If only I could convince Ginny of such things.
At Potion's today, I busy myself with the cauldron and ingredients assembled in front of me.
Oh, not only do I enjoy the sense of freedom Snape has been giving us so far, but also I enjoy the feel of the jars in my hands, about to be bent to my will. Sometimes it reminds of when I used to cook pies when my mother wasn't home and couldn't attempt to try to prefect my horrid cooking abilities.
But I focus on the task in front of me and quickly begin to churn the thick cream within the depths of my scarred, used cauldron. And to think six years ago I was absolutely terrified to have a mark in my cauldron.
Harry seems to be trying hard to please the stars above us and is re-reading line after line to make sure he has the direction mesmerized in his thick skull. Ron, on the other hand, seems rather dumbfounded with the rather large vocabulary within our text and is pestering Seamus on words that even McGonagall wouldn't catch herself trying to use.
I roll up the sleeves of my shirt and wipe the sweat beads with disgust from my forehead, and I continue to churn the contents of the newest ingredients into the thick cream with tremendous effort. I sometimes doubt that I would ever have the strength to do anything if it weren't for all those thick books I check out from the wonderful library.
And when I discover I have a few minutes of breathing time before I must venture back into my work, I take the time to sit down and observe the classroom around me.
A few students are beginning to catch up to the same step as me and begin to rest for a moment. Ron and Seamus continue to struggle with another large word and begin to argue silently on it's meaning. I can spy Millicent Bullstrode excavate the depths of her hairy and boogey-infested nostrils.
I smirk in pleasure when Millicent jumps and quickly retreats her dirty hands under the wooden lab tables as Snape finally decides to begin to torture the Gryffindor's and boost the Slytherin's over-filled egos.
The stiff and black-covered man begins to sneer at Lavender's attempt at the assignment and yet quietly approves of Goyle's improving methods to finally pass the class without nonexistent bonus points. Snape is actually quiet for once, and I marvel at the level of improvement everyone's beginning to climb slowly towards.
As I notice my thick potion begins to turn into a bubbling mass of what looks like whale blubber, I quickly tune back into work mode and put my aching and peeling hands back into the stressful and unhealthy work.
I am not one to be easily disappointed in.
Only when I add the last ingredient and leave for a moment to begin to put my ingredients back into my own storage kit as well as back into Snape's student cabinets, do I notice Snape from far away in this point of perspective.
He is a solitary figure, and I watch him rather gracefully stride down the aisles almost carefully, having various students try to slide away from his long strides as if he were a contagious disease.
Sometimes I wonder why Ginny first points out his body when she sees him. He is covered in all black, what is there to see?
But I noticed the long, lean frames of his black covered legs and I realized Ginny wasn't talking primarily about the only pale skin he showed but also about the frame his body took even in the dark clothes he chose to wear.
As I decide not to let my potion burn or be the first to be teased harshly by Snape, I quickly begin to clean up my work area with my wand, careful not to hurt anyone's progression as well. It wouldn't do to have all of Harry's hard work disappear under my misaimed spell!
I carefully bottle by sample of what looked like burned, discarded fat and clearly mark my neat and underused name onto the bottle as best as I could. Right when I notice Harry begin to clean up, I make my way to Snape's desk and carefully place my vial into the little hole of the wooden tablet Snape uses to collect our in-class assignments.
I see Snape quickly glance around the room once more from the corner of my eye and wonder what is going on. He hasn't made a sarcastic comment in all of the class period we've had and I'm beginning to think maybe today he's finally had a good day. But in the sick, underused back part of my mind, Ginny's voice speaks rudely, or Snape got laid.
I try to push the imaginary Weasley from my thoughts to not contaminate them beyond repair. It really won't do to be thinking about my professor's mating habits when I myself know very little there is to the male's body.
I don't look into the Karma Sutra and I certainly don't read those mushy romance novels that barely tell you anything besides the two main characters are making love, all the time, every time they can. I barely understood when my mom was trying to explain things to me, but then again she was using all medical terms and for once had me all confused.
And when Ron and Seamus finally bottle up their potions and place them onto the wooden tablet, the loud throng of the bell releases us from Snape's torture chamber. Even without his consent, the students' bolt out, seeking to trample over the good mood we've all found Snape to be in.
But it seems the black clad man doesn't mind as he begins to finger the samples as if examining the beauty of small newborn babies. I leave only when he stops to rest his fingers on my close to perfect sample in the bottle and linger there for how long, I didn't stay to find out.
Ginny's been trying to get Harry to speak to her in a rather low, deep voice, and she explained to me that it was to give herself the illusion that he was Snape. Whether it was to give herself pleasure or to torture Harry to her will, I didn't wish to stay in her cruel presence to find out.
I myself was shocked to hear her say this and I told her that if she was so in bloody love with Snape that she should've gone to seek making love to our Potion's master instead of poor, manipulated Harry.
I was right sodding mad to hear her confess these secretive things to me. I could keep their titles as secrets, but I wasn't so sure I wanted the burden of being told such things. I myself had told Ron once to grab my buttock roughly one time when we used to snog long ago. This was only because I was still pining for Viktor and he had done the same thing, making me miss his sometimes-rough foreign side.
Now I regret ever even thinking such things, let along command Ron to do what I told him to, but I firmly force myself to just forget it. What was the point in trying to fix the past when there were lessons to be learned for the future?
And it seems that everywhere I go I am reminded of Ginny's obsessive crush and the fantasies she's told me that she made up about him. It seems that every corner I turn Snape's turning a different corner, heading towards me. And it seems every time I look up when I'm eating, I always find Snape in my line of sight, eating as well.
Sometimes our eyes meet and I feel my stomach drop. It makes me feel as if his eyes were trying to betray the mask he put up to hide his emotions. I usually turn away first, fearful my blush would cause him to label me as a worthless and unteachable student.
I am rather tired of telling Ginny to leave me alone whenever she and Snape are near me.
Doesn't she ever learn that he might actually obtain the information that she fancies a man twice her age? I personally didn't understand her and didn't wish to.
But it intrigues me as to wonder why she found his taunt, pale skin favorable to touch. I sometimes wonder why she wants to run her freckled fingers through his greasy, slicked back hair. It just irks me to see the grays forming in his deep, dark hair, let alone want to touch them.
And now the generic color of black begins to remind me that Ginny wants to rip Snape's black clothes from his body and proceed to ravish him with the lust only a teenaged Weasley could hold. And I am constantly reminded by Ron's public snogging sessions that Ginny wants to plant sloppy kisses onto Snape's protruding forehead where I'm sure there's still active pores filled with overflowing grease.
It all makes me so desperate to want to write an anonymous note to Snape and apologize for Ginny and her odd behavior, whether he noticed it or not. And sometimes I become so stressed, I just wish to track Snape down and blurt everything out to him just to get Ginny away from me and to relieve my stress and me.
Only when I went back to Potion's class the next week with Ron and Harry do I just wish to have Snape back to the way he is: rude, sarcastic, and nasty.
I don't get my wish fulfilled and I wonder what is going on in Snape's mind.
He makes us do another assignment by ourselves, and I do not want to be the one to disturb the class just because Snape seems to be wandering around in another realm. I'm sure he'd be mighty ticked if some cocky child felt like overriding his throne just because he was faced with a weak spot.
I do my assignment like I'm told to, because hey, it's my weak spot, and I try to ignore the other students as they begin to goof off only slightly.
They throw around pieces of parchment at each other and proceed to chat quietly amongst themselves.
When we all are expected to be finished, do I notice a few didn't turn their samples in? Did they decide to dare be in defiance towards the brutal and harsh Potion's Master of the forbiddingly dark dungeon?
I can only hope for their welfare, but it seems my attempts are in vein.
Snape doesn't even move a muscle when the bells rings and the students excuse themselves out without a second glance at Snape. I myself feel guilty and stay planted into my seat, feeling quite stupid as Snape begins to once again finger the bottles in front of him almost quietly.
Before I can point out to him that the class is over or he must be ill or something, he speaks.
"Leave."
All I can do is nod and begin to leave. If Snape proved to be somewhat still himself, it seemed that his command still held his dominating figure in my mind in tact.
Only when I spare him one last glance before I leave do I see he's touching my bottle with a…caress? My body shivers at seeing his spidery fingers touch the glass carefully with love.
During the next Potion's class do I become most concerned?
Snape is even more lenient and doesn't mind as the students begin to go out of control. He seems still trapped in his personal and private world and I become very worried. I am the only one to care as others begin to raid the student's Potion's cupboard with ease and steal the ingredients for who-knows what. If Snape were like this in our second year, making the Polyjuice Potion would have been much easier for Harry, Ron, and I.
It seems the males are starting to get randy when the females begin to flaunt their buttocks' out into the air now that Snape was developing what seemed like a medical relative cousin of a coma. And I realize just how immature boys get when they decide to try to get pieces of rolled up parchment down the girl's skirts or shirts. The students then begin to proceed to waste pieces of parchment after pieces of parchment over absolutely nothing. Didn't they have their Potion's assignment or even Charms homework to do or something?
And this time, I was the only person mature enough to hand in a vial.
When the bell rings, I stay planted into my seat as the others leave and look at my defiance oddly. Only when Snape stands up and leaves I in the classroom did I guess that mean that I was free to go. He didn't even spare me a second glance, acting instead as if I didn't existent. I knew this was nothing new, but his behavior was not only new, it was scarier than his regular behavior.
I had to do something.
I quickly went to Madame Pomfrey to tell her of my concern for our ill Potion's Master. Right when I was done confessing that I was concerned for him, her face smoothed out to look as motherly as I had ever seen it. She told me that she was very proud to learn of my feelings of care for the least cared about professor and confessed to me that he was going through a mid-life crisis, feeling that he was beginning to fall in love.
At this, I left puzzled but I felt utter fear when I wondered who Snape was 'falling in love' with.
What if he began to finally interpret Ginny's actions and was beginning to feel lust for her, not knowing that he wasn't in love?
My heart ached at thinking those thoughts and began to grow even more concerned. I knew Ginny was kind-hearted, but I knew if she could get a grip on Snape, she would and would even take a rather large chunk out of his heart and leave him once she was done fooling around with him.
I knew I should not worry about it; it wasn't any of my business, but I was fearful. Why, I didn't know.
At dinner, I was relieved to hear from Ginny herself that she had gotten over Snape now that his attitude had changed completely, making him most unlike the Snape she 'loved'. But I was still fearful that this could somehow hurt Snape, if he did indeed love Ginny somehow.
I knew the thought of such nonsense was ludicrous, but maybe it was because I knew a thirty-seven-year-old man shouldn't lust over a sixteen-year-old girl.
Hopefully Snape would feel better, and from the way everyone was beginning to spit on his name even more, I could only wish it was true. I really wanted the other Snape back and have him still be able manage to hold his reputation in tact while he could.
It seemed I was growing fond of the greasy git of the dungeons.
The next week when we had Potions, I had prayed to the fates to help Snape get back onto his feet. It didn't matter if the class needed his nasty personality back; I needed him back.
I didn't know why and at this point in my frustrated life I didn't care. Maybe if he would become in character again, I would have the time to think without the pressure of others around me taking advantage of such a cunning and dark man. I'm sure I would feel better somehow.
And it seemed the fates were against me again for Snape was being limp and lame once more.
As usual, I was the only one to do the assignment since it seemed no one bothered to even care in the least bit. They were all too busy wrapped around in their social issues to understand that our Potion's Master was facing a mid-life crisis. That in itself should be deemed as a major deal to worry about!
They were at their normal activities: flirting and showing-off. I sometimes wondered if there was something more to teenage-hood than what I could see in front of me. But as I shove Ron's groping hand away from my much-needed personal space, I beg to differ. I guess that being smarter than those around you had its disadvantages.
Everyone left five minutes before the bell could even begin to warm up for its daily ring.
My peers didn't even bother to care and worry, as I stay rooted in my seat. I was stubborn and defiant and watch Snape as he watches everyone but I leave him to his rather melancholy mood and behavior.
I decide to see if Snape even notices my presence this time. My heart stops momentarily as he watches me watch him with his odd, black eyes. I wasn't so sure what to do and shyly look away as I feel my cheeks begin to heat up considerably.
A few minutes later, after trying to busy myself and distract my thoughts from following the tracks of Ginny's, I look back at him.
He was still looking at me.
Before I could work up the nerve to stare defiantly back at him, he stands up abruptly, startling me, and beckons me closer to his towering form. Feeling nervous, I did as I was instructed to and follow his graceful form to his private office filled with jars of unknown things.
As he turns to halt suddenly, I back up, feeling my cheeks redden at almost crashing into the chest Ginny used to fantasize about. I try to repel the thoughts from my mind, but the thought of unbuttoning the millions of rows of buttons to see his pale chest excites me. I want to run my nimble fingers down his form and maybe even inspect his darker colored nipples.
Oh, Merlin, this was my Potion's professor I was thinking about here!
I could feel my face heat up considerably as I turn to look up towards his unhandsome face and see his dark eyes peer over his large nose.
Before anything else perverted could run amuck in my odd mind, I see him bend over towards me as if in a trance. And I watch his black eyes as they watch my shock expression. But shock could not describe my feelings as his thin, pale lips touch my dry lips with tenderness.
My mind went blank as I couldn't help but close my eyes and feel his long, spidery fingers work their way onto the base of my shivering throat and up to run over the curve of my trembling chin. I feel my body betray me as I feel him kiss me again at a different, tempting angle.
My whole figure decides to tremble as his body touches my much smaller and frailer one almost awkwardly, as if he was a teenager as well. This eases me somehow and makes me feel much more open to him and makes me feel better as he decides to kiss me tenderly once more.
But my mind stops me, screaming out uncertainties and déjà vu that I did not wish to hear of previous, failed relationships. I grab onto his black, button-filled outfit and push him roughly away, which was hard considering he was at least sixty pound heavier than I and his lips were still attached to my still wanting ones.
But he did stumble back, watching me with his wide black eyes as he ungracefully crashes and grabs onto his desk for the support he desperately needed. And all of a sudden my lightheadedness begins to make me most inarticulate and unable to stand on my own two feet. I myself stumble into the shelves lined with eerie things and try to breathe correctly.
We still looked at each other, awkwardness creeping around us, and I feel my breath continuously begin to get trapped within my windpipes.
I try not to examine his frame, spread out as he tries to maintain a grip on the desk he held with dear life. I never saw him look like such a wreck but so beautiful at the same time. And then it hit me as I began to think such corny things about him:
My Potion's Master just kissed me.
And I liked it.
He did try to open his thin mouth – I kissed that! – But I didn't give him the chance to explain. I didn't want to hear an excuse that I was the wrong person to have kissed or the apology that he was just so horny he'd even be as desperate as to kiss the Minister's arse.
I stumble from his private office, tripping as I tried to regain my dignity and scramble away from the mistake he presented to me. I was silently hoping he would try to come after me and try to explain, but he never came out of his office or the dungeons.
I gather my stuff as best as I could and, in a rush, race as fast as I could out of the memory and mistake.
Snape didn't mean it, and I certainly didn't mean it when I thought I liked it when he kissed me.
I'm sure I was starving for attention from him and that by having him actually kiss me was the only reason I liked it and felt so satisfied. And I'm sure he was just so eager to shut my mouth and scare me off that he went as far as to kiss me.
It wasn't as if I was the one he might have actually been falling in love with. As if! I must have looked like the woman or something, for there was no way Snape would stoop to the level of kissing a little, naïve girl like me.
In a hurry, I decide not to show my face for dinner and hear Ginny's feelings for some other boy. I didn't need any more déjà vu, thank you.
But I shamelessly blame her. Her telling me all her thoughts and fantasies was beginning to have an effect on me. Maybe I might have actually been starting to develop a rather odd crush on our dreaded Potion's Master because of the new light she was trying to make me see him in.
Fates, why must you be so stubborn to be against me?
That night I did cry, knowing I wanted Snape to kiss me over and over again until I couldn't breathe anymore. I wish that everything wasn't so complicated and that Snape hadn't have kissed me. Why did I have to be such a goody-two-shoes to be concerned for the welfare of my professors? Why?
I wish that Snape wasn't using me to find some sort of release. Whether it is emotional or sexual release, I really wouldn't care, as long as he wouldn't be trying to blackmail me or even worse, use me.
I ignore everything but the melancholy tears running down my face and the situation I should have known I would happen to stumble into. I'm sure he was just so…lonely in the dungeons by himself; he would have kissed any other seventh year girl as well.
I just had to be the one he had to kiss.
The next Potion's class, I was absolutely mortified in his presence and above all, terrified.
But it wasn't because Snape was back to his normal self like he was before. He was stalking around us like a hungry vulture, making rude and unnecessary comments about everyone's potion, whether it deserved to be criticized or not.
I'm not sure why I had to feel so special in his presence. I felt as if I was shoved into the spotlight, his nonexistent gaze. I think it might have been because he didn't criticize my potion. But then again, to tell you the truth, he totally ignored me all throughout the class.
No one was foolish enough to fool around, and it seemed Snape was getting his revenge on everyone by treating them twice as worse as he normally would. But I wish I were one of the ones to have been such a naïve, lust-filled teenager so I could be thrown in the pot of disappointment. Instead, I had to be good and wind up getting my feelings and heart infected with the dreaded teenage love and lust. I really wouldn't have minded by ego to be bruised, bent, and stepped upon, and I'm sure Snape wouldn't mind hearing my plea and crushing all the hope I was filled with.
All I still wish to do is cry as I finish my potion and begin to put the ingredients back into my old and running dry kit.
I did not dare to let myself borrow anything from him. I was terribly afraid I would get attached to him in some other way or another, whether it be stealing a container with his fingerprints on them or finding one of his hairs on a miscellaneous shelf.
I knew I would feel much better if I would just stop thinking about him, but it seems it wasn't going to likely happen. It seems the perverted Ginny made a nest within my head and is now hatching and squawking from the depths of her new protective home.
I try not to think about the feel of his lips on mine or the feel of his black clad figure on my much smaller and petite one. I try hard not to feel so bloody stupid or get so emotional over Snape's kiss. Oh, but it's so hard now that I've fallen into that pit of obsession and artificial desire!
I tell myself I would let myself cry after I was in the safety of my room. I'm sure if I were to begin to cry now, I would not stop. And the last thing I wished for was to draw attention upon my sorrow-filled self and my grief and make myself an obvious target for Snape's harsh teasing.
How could I want such a cruel, hated man? I have heard the saying 'opposites attract', but this is just ridiculous! How could two very, very different people learn to ignore the differences they hold just to be with one another? To me, it seems rare, if not impossible.
My body begins to quiver at the sound of his deep voice cutting up Seamus' excuse of not being able to go to detention with his sharp tongue. And to think that if I was likely to not have let Snape stop before, I would have had the pleasure and displeasure to have the feeling of his tongue in my wanting mouth.
I try so hard to repel the nasty man and his kiss from my mind, and I try so hard not to look at him.
I'm getting obsessed over nothing, I tell myself. It was a mistake and you're turning it into something it isn't.
I guess that was something I want it to be.
But my thoughts were cut off when Snape slams a greasy fist onto the table, which shut Seamus up in the middle of his excuse. I jump sky-high as well as everyone else in the desolate, solemn classroom. It cut off the brief moment of the hard, grueling work we didn't favor or miss.
Besides his impromptu class interruption, it is a huge shock to see Snape staring straight at me, finally realizing that I actually exist.
Maybe if I got lucky, he'd remember that he nicknamed me the 'Insufferable Know-It-All.' And if I was truly hitting the jackpot, he might actually remember we kissed. And then he could remember my name is Miss Granger.
Whatever order works, really.
Before anyone could try to formulate what was going on, Snape hisses out a command dangerously.
"Miss Granger, in my office."
I could feel my spine shiver beneath my skin, and being the goody-two-shoes that I am, I directly obey his orders, heading straight for the private office I was in before…when we kissed. My head hangs in shame as if I was being lead to my execution. Right now I hate the way irony seems to make my situation worse than it really is.
I was tingling with anticipation as I wait quietly in Snape's office. I could hear him continue to yell at Seamus for what, I'm not sure, but I am positive in knowing that Snape wasn't really as limp and lame as we all interpreted him to be before. I'm sure he kept track of all the wrongdoing's everyone did with his cunning mind.
And to think I didn't even consider such a notion until now. I think it's because I had the mastermind behind such a devious plot on my mind.
I begin to grow irritated with myself, but before I can mentally scold myself, Snape enters his private office full of jars infested with what looked like forms of Dark Creatures and their intestines.
I stand still in place in front of his dark wooden desk as if in ready for inspection and criticism. Maybe this was his way of getting back at for me.
As I try to understand what is really wrong with Snape's mind, he draws my attention to him by standing rather close in front of me. At this, I do hope we do not repeat what we did before. I'm sure my heart is in shambles on the floor somewhere around here, and I'm sure they're all dusty and swept into the corner. I really do not want to have him squeeze the rest of my short life and soul out of me.
Before anything else can happen, he begins to speak.
"I'm sorry about before."
Now this has me totally in shock and I spare a glance at him to see he was looking rather vulnerable so close to me. All I want to do now is brush away the greasy locks hiding his dark eyes, but I refrain myself from doing so and from asking him irritating, obvious questions.
"I didn't mean to do such things," he continues on. "But I couldn't refrain myself."
All I want to do is ask him if it's because he'd lonely, but he looks into my eyes and answers the question hanging on my lips.
"I'm not lonely; I just prefer solitude to social activities. And it seems I was facing some rough times in my life when I began questioning my importance."
At this, I'm most definitely in shock at hearing him confess such deep and personal things to me.
"I'm in love."
It is rather silent for a moment, and I am rather fearful.
It's Ginny all over again, isn't it? Now this time, I'm supposed to hear what Snape has to say on his mind, and I'm not so sure whether I want to be here anymore to hear him. I don't want to hold in Ginny's secrets anymore, and I certainly don't want to have to keep Snape's.
As I wish to ask him who he's 'in love' with, he seems to understand what I want to ask. If I wasn't such a coward in his towering presence, I would be a noble Gryffindor and just cockily ask him myself. But it seems words tend to fail me when I'm nervous.
"You. I'm in love with you."
At this, I pronounce myself insane. I must have gotten in some fight with Buckbeak and Hagrid must have punched me in the head or something so he could protect his hippogriff. I still must be in my coma and my sick mind is conjuring up this insane story just to pass the time away. What's going to happen next? Is Snape going to shag me and be sent to Azkaban for being a pedophile?
But I then reface my dilemma: Snape.
What am I to do? I'm only eighteen, and he's thirty-seven. How could this have happened?
"I don't know how or when this happened," Snape continued, making me wonder if he must have been reading my mind or my face.
I look up at him to see that he's not done explaining himself just yet.
"But please understand that I am not a pervert. I didn't really notice this until recently, whether it is because I understood how much you'd make a great Potion's Mistress or how much you've intellectually grown. I just had a feeling that you'd be by my side.
"And it led me to question whether the relationship that would tend to form was a good idea or not. I have been a loner most of my life, and to have a girl shoved to my side may lead me to question my bachelorhood. I'm sure along those lines something clicked in my mind: I loved you.
"I know you must be accustomed to the whole dating thing and everything else, but to me that wouldn't be necessary or right."
I'm not sure how to handle this and all I wish to do is bolt from the door once more. The second times the charm and he'll leave me alone forever, right? Maybe he'll decide to fall in love with Ginny. He's got strange understandings and reasoning's for being in love, so I'm sure him and Ginny would get along fine.
They're both insane when it comes to love!
But my feet stay planted to the stone cold ground as he continues to talk to me. I silently curse the fates for giving me such a horrid month. Why me? I plead
I receive no answer in reply, except for more of Snape's explanations.
"I wanted to tell you after…before, but you left before I could, and I also wanted to tell you that I was seeking for your apprenticeship. Even if you say no to me, I just wish for things to not be awkward between us, as if there was anything between us. I did not wish for you to feel insulted by my behavior."
I'm not sure what to do, and neither does he for he seems to have been finally finished.
But I then begin to see his face fall, and I realize that time is of the essence. He must be thinking, as time goes on and I do not say anything, that I wish to never be in his presence again, let alone the same room or country.
And I force myself to talk no matter how embarrassed I'm bound to feel.
"I do not feel insulted by you. Quite honestly, I'm flattered. Very. Flattered."
"Flattered?" he questions, and I begin to feel my face heat up considerably.
"Flattered."
At this, I see his face begin to lift and I wonder if I'm the only one who has truly seen him look so content with the world and see him look so handsome in his own marvelous way. I'm not sure what to say next, remember, I'm inarticulate when facing nervous situations. And I'm sure if I say the wrong thing everything between us will wilt up and die like some sort of rare, under cared for flower.
"And I'm very…content to know you share obvious affections for me."
"Obvious?"
"Well, not…obvious, but well…" I'm beginning to falter with my word choice that seems to displease him. But he can sense my discomfort of finally failing to do something right and correctly and tries to correct his tone.
"I understand," he says, making me feel much more embarrassed in his much older and wiser presence. "So, do you choose to take my offer of apprenticeship?"
"Yes, sir, I do, sir," I reply, feeling quite giddy at the idea. An apprenticeship with Snape? Not only would it give me a chance to start a career and forget all of the other topics and careers I was good at and eligible for, but also it would be great to be able to smear the idea into Ginny's shocked face.
It would make me feel so much better and would make me feel much less stressed out. Maybe then I could get the chance to blackmail her or something just to let her know that kind of mental damage she's passed over to me. And if something evolves between my professor and me, I could mention it every now and then in her presence just to aggravate her.
Or I could maybe pass the cruel thoughts and torturing mental images to nose-picking Millicent Bullstrode. I'm sure she wouldn't mind; she's got nothing to do with her mind but see if she could shove her finger so far up her nose so she can touch her withering brain.
It seems the life of a Neanderthal isn't as interesting as Muggle scientists try to make it out to be.
Before my thoughts can continue to get even nastier in my small plans for my cold, malevolent revenge, Snape lays a hand onto my shoulder. This startles me momentarily, but before I can question him innocently he says, "I'm looking forward to it."
"Me, too."
And this time I let my conscience get smothered into the mental drawer saved for later thoughts as Snape leans down tenderly and kisses me.
Please review! I'd like to hear your opinions, plus I need someone to be my beta as well!
Thanks.