Something to Worry About
Disclaimer: I don't own, never will own, can only dream of owning Harry Potter or any other affiliates. I'm not making any money from this endeavor; I'm only attempting to alleviate my boredom.
A/N can be found at the end of each chapter.
~
All around the world, people are the same. Very little in this world changes. Whether it be love, or war, or something as mundane as choice of bedtime reading material, you can always count on people.
Or so Severus Snape thought.
In all his life, he'd never come across a more annoying person. Never. It wasn't possible. And that made her different. There was no one else on the planet who could make him want to hex himself out of sheer frustration.
No one else but Hermione Jane Granger.
Yes, he knew her middle name. He'd looked it up in her file. He knew her birthday. He knew that her mother's name was Adelaide and that her father was George. And that she had a sister named Emma. Non-magical. Quite bright though.
She'd first showed signs of magical ability in the cradle. And it had most definitely cemented itself at the age of five, when she accidentally started a kitchen fire from a temper tantrum.
Oh yes, he knew almost everything about her.
But for the love of God, he did not want to know why her hand was waving frantically in the air.
"Yes Miss Granger?" He said it with snappish sarcasm, but inwardly, he cringed. What now? What question did he not want to answer today?
She put her frantically waving arm to rest and pointed at the blackboard. "Sir? Are you sure about the directions on line five? It says in the text that mixing powdered Aberfoyle with iron filings in this kind of mixture could cause an-"
BOOM.
Neville Longbottom.
Go figure.
He winced, eyes shut. Then opened them slowly, suddenly afraid.
"I'm okay!"
A whooshing sigh of relief escaped his lips. Hermione Granger blinked a few times, staring at the mess of Longbottom's former cauldron. This one hadn't melted. Oph no, this one had disintegrated. A soot-faced Neville blinked owlishly. "I'm okay," he repeated.
"Evanesco." He said it tiredly, proof of his irritation. The disaster of ingredients that laid around Longbottom in a ten-foot radius disappeared, and a muttered "Reparo" charm put the powdered cauldron back to rights.
"I was going to say, before I was so rudely interrupted by Longbottom's explosion, that had the brewer treated the Aberfoyle with Hippogriff saliva as instructed on page nine hundred twelve, the explosive effect would have been negated. Longbottom, get out. Class, finish your draughts, bottle them and leave them on my desk, and then dismiss yourselves."
Thirteen pairs of eyes stared blankly at his retreating back as he walked to his office and slammed the door behind him.
He was wrong. That idiot Longbottom was every bit as maddening as Granger. But on an entirely different scale. How the boy had gotten into his N.E.W.T.s level Potions class, the man would never know. He'd begged an pleaded with Albus not to let the boy in, but his scores had somehow been worthy.
Severus plopped into his desk chair and threw his arm over his eyes. It was just one of those days. Sighing, he rummaged around in his bottom desk drawer until his hand closed over what he was looking for. Old Faithful.
The bottle of scotch uncorked with a muffled thunk. He admired the amber liquid in the bottle, then took a swig. If there was one thing in this world that Muggles excelled at, it was the making of spirits. The slow, sweet burn of twenty year old Glenlivet burned its way to his gut. No Ogden's here. Only the best.
A knock on his office door made him groan yet again.
"Go away."
Hermione Granger poked her head through the door.
"Professor, are you all right?"
"No," he growled, staring at her. "I said go away, Miss Granger. I meant it."
"Actually, sir, I wanted to ask you something." She barreled on. His mouth was open at her audacity.
"You are being disrespectful to a professor. Twenty points from Gryffindor."
"You see, sir, I've noticed that you seem tired lately. I know that you're under a lot of stress and-"
He cut her off. "Get to the point or I'll Stun you and throw you out on your arse."
She stomped her foot in frustration. "Professor Snape! Kindly let me finish!"
When he said nothing, she continued.
"Do you need an assistant?"
~
A/N: Ha! My first posted work of fanfic. Have been reading for years, but am just getting around to working on my own. Accepting of constructive criticism, but flames will be used to light a fire under your arse. Got it? Good.
/Gavin\
:o)