Another Day
Another day. Just another shitty day.
Severus Snape woke up thinking the same thing every morning. He muttered an incantation to silence the blaring alarm clock and silently slipped out of bed. He shivered as the cold air of the room hit his skin and he quickly snatched a shirt up off the floor, smelling it before pulling it over his head. Stumbling groggily towards the bathroom, he tripped over something near the foot of his bed. He reached down to find yesterday's black pants and grabbed them as well.
He didn't bother to shut the door when he got into the bathroom. Why should he waste the energy? There was no one in his bed, and he was sure that there never would be. He frowned at his reflection in the mirror and angrily shoved a toothbrush into his mouth, thinking it pointless to brush his graying teeth, but doing it anyway. He decided against combing out his greasy hair on account that no one would notice, least of all her.
He emerged from the bathroom after pulling on the slightly dirty pants and then searched his room for a pair of clean socks. Upon not finding any, he wore the pair left in his shoes from the day before. He was about to scrawl a note to whichever house-elf cleaned his room to tell it do his laundry as well when he remembered yelling at the stupid thing the previous week, telling it to get the bloody hell out of his room and leave him alone. All right, so he would have to do his own laundry.
He put on his robes, completing the black ensemble and left his empty room, making sure to magically lock it behind him.
He briefly considered skipping breakfast. The din of the Great Hall always put him in an even worse mood, but his heart leapt at the prospect of seeing her, so he headed to the stairs that lead from the dungeons up to the rest of the castle.
He had taken to thinking of her as Her. He had dropped Her name in favor of that if he did, he wouldn't be thinking so much about Her as an actual person, but as an object of his deepest desires. Okay, so, it didn't make much sense. But he didn't care.
He took his seat at the staff table between the great oaf Hagrid and Trawlaney, who reeked of cooking sherry. He arranged his face in what he hoped was an uninterested expression as the woman told him of the dream she had had about him the previous night, something about his slow and horrible death. He began to wish for death to come now, as she continued her story while encouraging him to finish his tea so she could read his leaves.
His eyes wandered the Great Hall, searching unsuccessfully for Her. Finally, when he sighed very loudly, Trawlaney moved on to her next victim, who happened to be McGonagall, and Snape was sure that the Headmistress would tell Trawlaney she was off her rocker, if not in those words.
Instead of listening for the almost guaranteed insult from McGonagall, he once again scoured the enormous room, looking for the girl. His black eyes moved up and down the Gryffindor table and on to Ravenclaw's where, once or twice, he had seen Her speaking in hushed voices with Luna Lovegood. He still could not find Her.
He sighed again. Exams were still three months away, but She was probably in the library, studying. He hoped She was studying for his class. Maybe he could drop a few hints to Her later about what material was going to be on the N.E.W.T. exam. He would have to be careful though. She was bound to pick up on what he was doing–
There! There She was! She was walking between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables with a tall, lanky boy on either side of Her. He smiled in spite of himself. She was beautiful, even with the look of exasperation on Her face.
The red-haired boy on Her left was arguing with the bespectacled boy on Her right. He could tell that they were arguing by the amount of forceful hand gestures the boys used and Her ever-growing frown. Finally She picked up Her pace and sat down next to two other girls, leaving no space for the arguing boys. Snape watched Her wipe a tear from Her cheek and his insides tingled as he realized that he was the only one in the whole Great Hall that had noticed.
She left just a few minutes later after staring at the piece of toast on Her plate. Snape left as well. He hadn't eaten, and he wasn't hungry. Plus, there was no reason to stay if She wasn't there.
Having a free period for the first hour of the day, Snape took his time in wandering back down to the dungeons. He saw Her walking up the staircase alone, ignoring the pleas of the two boys behind Her. How he longed to take Her in his arms and make Her happy again! The red-haired boy grabbed Her by the arm, forcing Her to face him. Anger flared up inside of Snape as the boy stroked Her face, and She embraced him in a hug. Then She turned to the black-haired boy and broke into sobs, hugging him as well. Snape turned on his heel and stalked off towards the dungeons, disgusted. How She could possibly keep going back to them after all they had done to Her was beyond him.
He unlocked the door to his storeroom and gathered an armful of potion ingredients. He made a few trips and made sure to take some of everything that he had. For lessons that day, he had decided to let the students chose what to make. Most, he knew, would go for the easier concoctions, but he was sure that She would go for something more difficult, or better yet, something She made up Herself.
With a flick of his wand the instructions appeared up on the large chalkboard at the front of the room. Choose a potion from the book and make it. All will be tested at the end of the class period. He wanted to do the least amount of talking as possible, but he was sure that at least one person would have some kind of pointless question that he would have to answer.
He sat down at his desk and waited.
A few minutes later, he heard voices in the hall outside of his classroom. He knew that he should really get up and let them in, but he wanted as much quiet as he could get. And, while She was in this class, She and Her stupid friends always entered the room at the last possible second.
The bell rang and Snape grudgingly waved his wand, opening the door to let in a slow stream of students.
"Hurry up," he grumbled. "We've much to do today and I don't have time for you to waste." The students now moved at more of a jog. He smirked. They knew not to piss off Professor Snape.
When he was sure that they were all seated, he pointed to the chalkboard and returned to his desk with a swish of his robes.
"But Professor," someone complained. Snape turned to find Neville Longbottom waving his hand in the air. "What if our potions are made wrong?"
"You better hope that you don't make your potion wrong, Mr. Longbottom," he sneered. Then he added to the whole class, "You are at N.E.W.T. level now. Any potion that results differently from the text will lose your house fifteen points. Any other questions?"
Her hand went shot into the air and Her two friends rolled their eyes, but She ignored them. It was hard for Snape to keep the scowl on his face, but somehow he managed. "Yes, Miss Granger?"
Hermione kept Her hand above Her head as She asked, "Does it have to be in the book? Can I make something up out of my head? I've been wanting to try mixing wolfsbane with–"
He desperately wanted to know what She wanted to mix with wolfsbane, and it killed him to interrupt Her, but he did anyway. "Miss Granger, you may make whatever the hell you want, but you better be sure that it works."
"Yes, Professor," She said, dropping Her delicate hand into Her lap.
The students sat, staring at Snape.
"Well, get to it now. You don't have all day."
They scrambled to get started.
Snape sat at his desk and began to correct papers. Fail, fail, pass, fail. He didn't even have to read the essays; all he had to do was look at the names to give the grade. Teenagers were so predictable.
Every once in a while, he would look up to check his students' progress. He saw that Neville's potion was a sickly green color, which, judging from the array of ingredients in front of him, was supposed to be a deep lavender. Snape lifted his wand and the mess in Neville's cauldron disappeared. Neville looked up, bewildered. "Start over," Snape instructed and the boy hung his head and began the process all over.
Snape reached Malfoy's essay in the stack of papers on his desk. He looked over to where he, Crabbe, and Goyle always sat to find a haze of silver above the only cauldron, as Crabbe and Goyle were just sitting there. "Malfoy!" Snape called sharply.
"Yes, Sir?" he replied, full of confidence in his potion.
"The Memory Draft, is it not?" Snape inquired, referring to the potion Malfoy was creating, which was supposed to have a blue cloud of smoke above it, not a silver one.
"Yes, Sir!" the blond boy nodded vigorously.
Snape lifted his wand once again, this time to erase Malfoy's potion.
"But Sir…" Malfoy whined.
"Read step number seven and tell me what direction you were supposed to stir it in." demanded Snape through gritted teeth.
Malfoy mouthed the words as he read and Snape rolled his eyes. Malfoy looked to face his teacher, growing even paler than it usually was. "Counter-clockwise, Sir," he mumbled.
"And what direction did you stir it in?"
"Counter-clockwise, Sir," the ignorant boy insisted.
"No! You didn't!" Snape yelled, gaining the attention of the entire class. "Do it again!"
He sat down and returned to grading Malfoy's paper. The stupid git. Snape had been planning on passing him but now… Fail.
The next paper was Ronald Weasley's. Snape groaned as he saw the smeared and blotted ink and raised his eyes to where Ron was sitting with Harry and Hermione. He groaned again. He always had this conversation with himself. Did being friends with Her make him gain or lose points? He wasn't sure. He watched the girl whisper something to Ron and the red-haired boy added an extra ingredient, surely one that had been forgotten in an earlier step. Fail.
Harry Potter's paper was next. Snape watched as Harry read the instructions for his potion, picked up a bottle from in front of him, and read the instructions again. Snape hated to admit it, but Potter was nowhere near as arrogant as his father. Harry almost had an air of uncertainty about him, as if he was always unsure of everything that he was doing. Pass… barely.
Snape looked at his watch. There was twenty minutes left of class. He worked his way through the pile of essays, failing most of them. Finally he came to the last paper. Hers. Neat, compact handwriting filled the parchment, which was a whole two feet long instead of the required one. He skimmed the paper, knowing he wouldn't find any mistakes, but looking none the less. It was a game that he liked to play with himself. And whenever he found a mistake, he called Her up to his desk to have a little chat.
Finding no mistakes, not even in grammar, he glanced over to the table where She sat. Her bushy brown hair, which had been down when She entered the classroom, was now pulled back into a messy bun at the base of Her neck. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, and sweat covered Her forehead. She was muttering to Herself, the textbook in front of Her closed. She was perfect.
Suddenly She looked to him, meeting his gaze. She smiled timidly. Snape realized that She must have noticed that someone had been watching Her. He quickly glanced back down to Her paper. Pass.
Students were now coming up to his desk and taking empty vials back to their places, where they filled them with a sample of their potion and placed them back on the desk in front of Snape, careful not to disturb their professor.
With only five minutes left, Hermione was the last to turn in her potion. Snape watched as She carefully corked the vial and placed it in front of him.
"As there is not enough time left, we will have to test these tomorrow. Mr. Longbottom, I believe we will be needing the assistance of your toad." Neville gulped visibly.
Snape examined the contents of Her vial. It was a metallic purple, with swirls of blue and green. Small shapes floated throughout it, reminding him of a Pensive. He uncorked it and smelled it and swirled it around, but he could not figure out what it was.
"Miss Granger?" She looked to him nervously. "Come up here."
Harry gave Her hand a reassuring squeeze and Snape scowled. She made Her way up to his desk and stood in front of him. "Yes, Professor?"
"What is this exactly?" he asked, holding up the vial.
She looked relieved. "It's a Memory Draft that contains my own memories."
Snape just stared at Her, waiting for Her to continue.
"As you know, a Memory Draft brings your own memories into your consciousness." Of course Snape already knew this, but he let Her continue. "My potion lets you live through my own memories."
"So, I could take this and see things that you remember?" Snape asked, amazed.
"Well, yes," Hermione said uncertainly. Snape realized that he needed to think a little more before he started talking.
"It sounds a bit like what happens with a Pensive," he said critically.
"That's where I got the idea, actually," She answered shyly. "Mine differs in that, even though the person that makes the potion takes the memory out of their brain, they can still remember it. It's a whole new–"
Snape let Her continue talking, thought he was not listening to what She was saying. Instead, he was watching Her lips. He wanted to stand up and press his own down onto Hers. Then his eyes slowly wandered to Her chest, which was rising and falling evenly as She spoke. She was too busy describing Her potion to notice that he was staring appreciatively.
The bell rang, cutting through the fantasy that was beginning to form in Snape's mind. She looked to Her friends and back to Snape.
"Yes, I understand it now. You may go," Snape dismissed Her.
She smiled and ran towards Her friends, leaving Snape all alone.
His next class was for the first years. There really was no point in teaching them. They didn't listen, for one thing. He hated them, for another. And, oh yeah, they hated him, as well.
After repairing a singed eyebrow and putting out a fire, the class was over. Snape stomped up the stairs for lunch. Having arrived late due to the fire, he was the last to sit down, and taking his seat next to Hagrid, he found that the only food left on his end of the table was bowl of kidney beans. Yum.
"Sorry, Professor," Hagrid acknowledged Snape's lack of food. "Dint think you was comin' up." Hagrid's own plate was piled high with chicken and potatoes. "But you can have some of mine, if ya like," he offered.
"No, thanks," declined Snape, and he left the Great Hall, passing behind the girl and Her friends.
He returned to his classroom and set up for the next batch of students. His afternoon was filled with one uneventful class after another.
Finally, the day was over. He was tidying up his desk when a timid looking second year entered the room.
"Yes?" Snape asked, not caring how rude he sounded.
"I have a detention. Remember?" he boy reminded him while looking at the floor.
Damn. Snape did remember giving the boy a detention for possession of a Fanged Frisbee, he had just forgotten that it was to be served that night. He hadn't even thought out what to have the boy do yet…
"Of course I remember," he snapped. "You're to sort out these Flubberworms for tomorrows lesson. No gloves and no magic." Yes, it was very unoriginal, but he had nothing else. He returned to his desk and unloaded a pile of papers from his bag. He settled in for another long, boring evening of mindless correcting.
At ten to eight, he let the boy stop. Snape was in a rotten mood and he just wanted to go to bed. The boy gratefully ran out of the room and out of Snape's mind, which was back on Her. Once again, he loaded up his bags. He wondered what She was doing at this very moment. Showering? Getting ready for bed? Doing homework? The last one was the most likely. Actually, She was probably doing Ron and Harry's homework.
He returned to his room, threw his shirt and pants on the floor, and fell backwards onto his bed, praying that tomorrow would be better, but knowing it was worthless to even wish it.
A/N: I really enjoyed writing this. Man, if all of Snape's days are like this I would really hate to be him. Actually, I would hate to be him anyway.
One question, though. Does it get annoying how I kept capitalizing 'Her' and 'She' when I was referring to Hermione? Should I just not do that? Any other suggestions? Please review! Please!! Even if you didn't like it, I just want some feedback. And if you did like it, maybe I will write a Snape/Hermione, not like a sequel or anything. Or maybe… let me know. Thanks!
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