**A/N** Aww! Poor pathetic Snapie! Hehe... who knew our calm, cool,
collected Potions Master could be such a sap? Tell me if you like it... if
you don't, let me down easy! Maybe this isn't laugh-out-loud funny, but
Snape's current emotional predicament is so out of character that I think
it's pretty amusing! Bryt: Am I following my usual updating patterns? :)
Hermione sighed irritably as she made her way down to the dungeons ten minutes early, just to be safe. She didn't want to be late and land herself with yet another detention. When she finally arrived, having managed to avoid Peeves, who was lurking about at this time of night simply to harass detention-goers such as herself, she rapped sharply on the classroom door.
When there was no reply, Hermione cracked the door open to find the room empty. Vaguely wondering where Snape was, Hermione remembered that she was early and made herself comfortable. After a few more minutes, when he didn't show up, Hermione began to pace the room, allowing her eyes to wander aimlessly over his desk. She stopped short when she read her name at the top of a piece of parchment. Curious, but also feeling that she was invading Snape's privacy, Hermione crept warily towards the parchment. Skimming the paper quickly, her eyes widened. It was a letter! To her! In Snape's handwriting! Thinking quickly, she took a blank piece of parchment and magically made a copy of the letter, which she immediately hid deep within her robes, leaving the original parchment seemingly undisturbed. She'd analyze it later,and try to act as if nothing had happened when Snape arrived. What on earth could he possibly wish to write to her about? Hermione couldn't help but feel that she was stealing, even though the letter was addressed to her.
Boot heels clicking on the stones in the hallway startled Hermione and reminded her to run frantically to her seat. Sitting and gazing at the door innocently, Hermione waited for Snape to arrive. The door opened with such an incredible bang that she jumped, knocking her bag off of the desk. Practically everything spilled from it, including her latest Robert Normans novel. Hermione blushed as she bent to pick it up, feeling Snape's scrutiny as his eyes bored into her back.
"Really, Miss Granger," he snarled. "One would think that a bright student such as yourself would never stoop to reading such trash!" He nodded towards the book. Hermione glared up at him--she might be afraid of Professor Snape, but no one insulted her reading habits without receiving Hermione's own patented death glare. The Potions Master looked slightly taken aback, but his moment of instability was too short for Hermione to be sure it had been there at all.
"I happen to appreciate the work of men who know the meaning of sensitivity, Professor Snape," she said, coolly. Snape tilted his head and regarded her carefully.
"Miss Granger, do you have any idea who actually writes those?" Hermione blushed furiously. "Of course I don't know!" she sputtered. "No one does!"
"I see," he sneered. Hermione suddenly felt extremely ashamed and shoved the book deep into her bag, trying to pretend it wasn't there anymore. "Well then, as this is your detention, I need you to make some more anti- coughing potion for Madam Pomfrey's stocks--this is, after all, cold season. The ingredients are in the first cabinet on the right. Do not leave until you have made at least two batches."
Snape sat purposefully behind his desk and attempted to grade some essays. It didn't work. He could smell Hermione from here--she smelled like the earth after a purifying rain... with a hint of peach. Rubbing his temples as he always did when he was frustrated, he closed his eyes and tried to think of other things, but instead he began to spin a plot in his mind for his next novel. In his brain there was an image of Hermione, a brilliant heroine, facing the dashing, bodice-ripping version of himself that he would create. "Severus, you're off your chump," he murmured to himself, nearly forgetting that she was actually in the room with him.
"Professor Snape?" He started slightly when he heard his name. His head shot up, and their eyes met. He instantly felt his breathing picking up, and fought valiantly to control himself. Fortunately, Hermione was completely oblivious to his predicament.
"What, Miss Granger?" he feigned irritation. If only she'd look at him that way more often... and suddenly, he was in his imaginary world again, imagining her not in her Hogwarts robes but in a corset, her bosom heaving...
"Professor Snape? Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione caused him to once again snap out of his reverie. He'd have to write this novel soon or reality and fantasy would start to merge. Shaking his head slightly, he snarled, "Miss Granger, are you quite finished?" She nodded, frowning slightly. Could she possibly be concerned for him?
"Then get out." Hermione's frown deepened, and her lips parted slightly as she drew in a breath to ask yet another question, but Snape had to stop her before he lost control of himself.
"OUT, MISS GRANGER!" he roared. Hermione grabbed her bag and dashed immediately from the room, not bothering to close the door behind her. Snape put his head in his hands as he listened to her feet hitting the stones. She was running from him, and it was all his fault. With a sigh, he magically closed the door and conjured up some black tea. He really needed to write...
~~
Hermione ran straight to her room, almost slamming the door behind her. Locking it, she flopped onto her bed and lay still for a long time. What had come over Professor Snape? His eyes had looked so distant, and then they had fixed on her, and she'd seen an expression in them that both unnerved and excited her. Remembering the copy of the letter she'd slipped into her robes, Hermione drew it out and timidly unfolded it.
~~
*Dearest Hermione,
Even as I write this, I know this letter will never be sent. Instead, it will join the countless other missives I have addressed to you, but that your gaze will never touch. I cannot imagine your reaction were you to read one of these many confessions, but it breaks my heart to even remotely ponder your thoughts were my emotions regarding you to be revealed. Sometimes I dream of telling you someday of my true feelings, but I know I never will.
Hermione, no matter how hard I try I cannot escape the thought of you. When you are near me, I watch you, wanting only to speak with you, but knowing that I never can. You are always so close to me, and yet I cannot touch you for fear of tainting your perfection. I am jealous of your friends as you smile at them, wishing that even a ghost of a smile could be directed at me.
When I wake in the morning, the last image that I dream of before I open my eyes is your face, though I know that I will never awake to see you next to me. It is true that absence makes the heart grow fonder, for I long for you more with each day that passes. Often I have prayed to be released from your hold over me, but deep down I know I do not mean it. It is better to suffer for my admiration of you than to lack appreciation for you, than to see you as anything less than the flawless being you are.
I love you Hermione, though I know I shouldn't, and though I know you can never love me in return. But worry not, Hermione, you will never hear this confession from my lips, never read it in one of these pathetic letters of mine. It is better that way. However, no matter what happens, I remain hopelessly, completely,
Yours,
Severus Snape *
~~
Hermione nearly choked as she finished the letter, utterly shocked at its implications. Snape? In love? With her? The thought would have disgusted her, if she could believe it at all, in a normal situation. But this letter... who would have guessed that Professor Snape had such a sensitive (ahem... sappy) side? Hermione wasn't sure whether she should laugh, cry, or run down to the dungeons and kiss the poor man senseless. His writing style seemed oddly familiar, but Hermione couldn't quite place it. It didn't matter to her at the moment.
Snape's tragic, unrequited love for her was so... romantic! The thought that someone could pine for her so desperately made her heart flutter. Gently folding the letter and placing it under her pillow, Hermione changed into her pajamas and snuggled up next to Crookshanks, who had already taken his usual spot on her bed. As her eyes closed for the night, she smiled as she thought of this newly discovered side of Professor Snape.
Hermione sighed irritably as she made her way down to the dungeons ten minutes early, just to be safe. She didn't want to be late and land herself with yet another detention. When she finally arrived, having managed to avoid Peeves, who was lurking about at this time of night simply to harass detention-goers such as herself, she rapped sharply on the classroom door.
When there was no reply, Hermione cracked the door open to find the room empty. Vaguely wondering where Snape was, Hermione remembered that she was early and made herself comfortable. After a few more minutes, when he didn't show up, Hermione began to pace the room, allowing her eyes to wander aimlessly over his desk. She stopped short when she read her name at the top of a piece of parchment. Curious, but also feeling that she was invading Snape's privacy, Hermione crept warily towards the parchment. Skimming the paper quickly, her eyes widened. It was a letter! To her! In Snape's handwriting! Thinking quickly, she took a blank piece of parchment and magically made a copy of the letter, which she immediately hid deep within her robes, leaving the original parchment seemingly undisturbed. She'd analyze it later,and try to act as if nothing had happened when Snape arrived. What on earth could he possibly wish to write to her about? Hermione couldn't help but feel that she was stealing, even though the letter was addressed to her.
Boot heels clicking on the stones in the hallway startled Hermione and reminded her to run frantically to her seat. Sitting and gazing at the door innocently, Hermione waited for Snape to arrive. The door opened with such an incredible bang that she jumped, knocking her bag off of the desk. Practically everything spilled from it, including her latest Robert Normans novel. Hermione blushed as she bent to pick it up, feeling Snape's scrutiny as his eyes bored into her back.
"Really, Miss Granger," he snarled. "One would think that a bright student such as yourself would never stoop to reading such trash!" He nodded towards the book. Hermione glared up at him--she might be afraid of Professor Snape, but no one insulted her reading habits without receiving Hermione's own patented death glare. The Potions Master looked slightly taken aback, but his moment of instability was too short for Hermione to be sure it had been there at all.
"I happen to appreciate the work of men who know the meaning of sensitivity, Professor Snape," she said, coolly. Snape tilted his head and regarded her carefully.
"Miss Granger, do you have any idea who actually writes those?" Hermione blushed furiously. "Of course I don't know!" she sputtered. "No one does!"
"I see," he sneered. Hermione suddenly felt extremely ashamed and shoved the book deep into her bag, trying to pretend it wasn't there anymore. "Well then, as this is your detention, I need you to make some more anti- coughing potion for Madam Pomfrey's stocks--this is, after all, cold season. The ingredients are in the first cabinet on the right. Do not leave until you have made at least two batches."
Snape sat purposefully behind his desk and attempted to grade some essays. It didn't work. He could smell Hermione from here--she smelled like the earth after a purifying rain... with a hint of peach. Rubbing his temples as he always did when he was frustrated, he closed his eyes and tried to think of other things, but instead he began to spin a plot in his mind for his next novel. In his brain there was an image of Hermione, a brilliant heroine, facing the dashing, bodice-ripping version of himself that he would create. "Severus, you're off your chump," he murmured to himself, nearly forgetting that she was actually in the room with him.
"Professor Snape?" He started slightly when he heard his name. His head shot up, and their eyes met. He instantly felt his breathing picking up, and fought valiantly to control himself. Fortunately, Hermione was completely oblivious to his predicament.
"What, Miss Granger?" he feigned irritation. If only she'd look at him that way more often... and suddenly, he was in his imaginary world again, imagining her not in her Hogwarts robes but in a corset, her bosom heaving...
"Professor Snape? Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione caused him to once again snap out of his reverie. He'd have to write this novel soon or reality and fantasy would start to merge. Shaking his head slightly, he snarled, "Miss Granger, are you quite finished?" She nodded, frowning slightly. Could she possibly be concerned for him?
"Then get out." Hermione's frown deepened, and her lips parted slightly as she drew in a breath to ask yet another question, but Snape had to stop her before he lost control of himself.
"OUT, MISS GRANGER!" he roared. Hermione grabbed her bag and dashed immediately from the room, not bothering to close the door behind her. Snape put his head in his hands as he listened to her feet hitting the stones. She was running from him, and it was all his fault. With a sigh, he magically closed the door and conjured up some black tea. He really needed to write...
~~
Hermione ran straight to her room, almost slamming the door behind her. Locking it, she flopped onto her bed and lay still for a long time. What had come over Professor Snape? His eyes had looked so distant, and then they had fixed on her, and she'd seen an expression in them that both unnerved and excited her. Remembering the copy of the letter she'd slipped into her robes, Hermione drew it out and timidly unfolded it.
~~
*Dearest Hermione,
Even as I write this, I know this letter will never be sent. Instead, it will join the countless other missives I have addressed to you, but that your gaze will never touch. I cannot imagine your reaction were you to read one of these many confessions, but it breaks my heart to even remotely ponder your thoughts were my emotions regarding you to be revealed. Sometimes I dream of telling you someday of my true feelings, but I know I never will.
Hermione, no matter how hard I try I cannot escape the thought of you. When you are near me, I watch you, wanting only to speak with you, but knowing that I never can. You are always so close to me, and yet I cannot touch you for fear of tainting your perfection. I am jealous of your friends as you smile at them, wishing that even a ghost of a smile could be directed at me.
When I wake in the morning, the last image that I dream of before I open my eyes is your face, though I know that I will never awake to see you next to me. It is true that absence makes the heart grow fonder, for I long for you more with each day that passes. Often I have prayed to be released from your hold over me, but deep down I know I do not mean it. It is better to suffer for my admiration of you than to lack appreciation for you, than to see you as anything less than the flawless being you are.
I love you Hermione, though I know I shouldn't, and though I know you can never love me in return. But worry not, Hermione, you will never hear this confession from my lips, never read it in one of these pathetic letters of mine. It is better that way. However, no matter what happens, I remain hopelessly, completely,
Yours,
Severus Snape *
~~
Hermione nearly choked as she finished the letter, utterly shocked at its implications. Snape? In love? With her? The thought would have disgusted her, if she could believe it at all, in a normal situation. But this letter... who would have guessed that Professor Snape had such a sensitive (ahem... sappy) side? Hermione wasn't sure whether she should laugh, cry, or run down to the dungeons and kiss the poor man senseless. His writing style seemed oddly familiar, but Hermione couldn't quite place it. It didn't matter to her at the moment.
Snape's tragic, unrequited love for her was so... romantic! The thought that someone could pine for her so desperately made her heart flutter. Gently folding the letter and placing it under her pillow, Hermione changed into her pajamas and snuggled up next to Crookshanks, who had already taken his usual spot on her bed. As her eyes closed for the night, she smiled as she thought of this newly discovered side of Professor Snape.