Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter, Hogwarts, or Severus Snape. I do own Miss Brennan, but since she's just a nobody-character, and I randomly picked her name off a list, I'm not sure that's something to be particularly proud of XD
A/N: Yes, this is my first-ever published story, and I'll probably take it down in a fit of embarrassment someday, but I actually think I did pretty well with it. It's not anything special, but since I usually suck at introspection, this is quite impressive. This just sort of gradually formed in my head, and the basic plot (not that there's much of one) literally spent years floating about in there. I finally got sick of it, chose a setting and wrote it down.
I appreciate constructive criticism, but no flames, please; I'm insecure enough as-is D:
Edit 5/14/10: Changed the wording of the first sentence to eliminate repetition; while it was intentional at the time, looking back on it, it seems amateurish. (Which I am, but still.) Original wording was "...curled up in a random window in a random hallway, drawing yet another sketch of yet another classmate." Also, I realized that the second paragraph made it sound as though Ron is a seventh-year, and although I suppose this could be AU, that's not what I was going for.
The girl was quite comfortable in her little nook, curled up in a window in her favorite corridor, drawing a sketch of one of her classmates. The sun shone over her shoulder, illuminating her sketchbook and making shadows dance over the floor whenever she shifted her position. Her hair was escaping from the low ponytail she had put it in just before Potions, and she kept tucking the stray strands behind her ears, but they seemed to insist on irritating her.
Her hobby of drawing nearly every person she met was unknown to most; before she had come to Hogwarts, she had suffered embarrassment several times for it, and had long ago decided to keep it a secret if possible. As a matter of fact, the only reason the people who knew did know was because they had found her book--she'd had to explain herself to Ron Weasley in front of him, his friends, and half of the Seventh-Year Gryffindors because he had mistaken it for a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. Which she couldn't blame him for, she thought wryly, considering she'd Charmed it to look that way. She'd been careful not to make that mistake again, instead making it look like an old, well-worn diary.
She had completed a sketch of Lavender Brown, and was beginning on one of a Ravenclaw boy she had passed on her way to Transfiguration earlier that day, when her sketchbook was suddenly pulled from her hands. She blinked at the spot where it had been, then looked up to see who had taken it. It was with a sharp intake of breath that she realized it was none other than her oh-so-beloved Potions professor, Severus Snape. Well, it wasn't like she hated him, she corrected mentally, it was just that he was known for his cutting remarks, and it was for this reason that she would rather he not flip through her book, especially considering she had drawn all the professors…including him. And especially considering he was one of the few that she had bothered to draw full-body, rather than simply a headshot. His billowing robes cut a far too impressive figure to omit.
She watched silently as Professor Snape flicked backwards through the pages, glancing at each sketch before moving to the next.
"Do you have an obsession with your classmates, Miss Brennan?" he murmured, not even glancing up at her.
"N-No, sir," the girl replied, clearing her throat. "It's just…a hobby. Something to remember my time here by, I suppose."
He showed no signs that he had heard her, but a few minutes later, an eyebrow rose as he finally stopped flipping through her book. She swallowed, knowing exactly which picture he was looking at. A long moment passed, and then he looked up at her. She wished fervently that he wasn't such a master at hiding his emotions; maybe then she would know how to expect him to react. Would he shout at her? Doubtful, else he would have done it already. Would he belittle her as he had a knack for doing, voice deceptively quiet? Quite possibly, and she'd come out feeling worse than if he had shouted at her. Would he simply dock ten points and confiscate her book? She hoped not, though if he happened to be in a bad mood…
The different possibilities (none of them particularly pleasant) were still presenting themselves to her several moments later, so she was shocked when he simply said, "You draw quite well, Miss Brennan," and handed her book back to her before walking away.
The girl stared after him, barely regaining her voice in time to say, "T-Thank you, Professor."
So, what'd you think? It's probably infuriatingly confusing, since my logic usually doesn't make any sense to anyone else. And don't ask why I'm talking about logic, it just seemed like the logical thing to do XP