I sympathise with my classes held that day, for even I had no inkling as to the extent of my fury. I positively bristled when anyone breathed louder than the soft whisperings their cauldrons made whilst simmering over a flame.

London. She was doomed for London, possibly the largest, filthiest, most degrading place that he could have sent her her to, and she was willfully going. I balled my hands in anger, and the students glanced nervously at me. I was unusually silent that class, failing to make snide remarks or breathe over shoulders, so I suppose my repressive quiet was the signaling of a very forceful gale to come.

But I had brought this load upon my own shoulders, and I was determined to bear it. It had been me, after all, who had begrudged her my affections; but at the same time, I had warned the silly woman to take heed of everyone else's warnings and leave when the ocean was calm, for Merlin knows a tiny vessel cannot survive a massive tempest.

I flexed my hands, eyes roaming almost reproachfully over the students struggling to create mixtures more complicated than they could dream of. At the sound of my knuckles cracking, several winced, and I heard the unmistakable tinkle of glass as it came into contact with unforgiving stone.

Class dismissed, I called, not caring who or how they had done it. It was annoying enough to be certain that a particularly large flask of Malandy bile would have to be scraped from my floors, let alone trying to seek out the perpetrator.

No one moved for minutes, unable to bring themselves to heed my uncharacteristically merciful orders. The children (and this was a humorous sight, I admit) were all eyes and ears for once, listening with every tendon and fibre to my words. I rose up in impatience.

Do you fools not understand English? I told you to leave; that is, unless all of you want detention for a week straight and twelve points deducted per student. This caused a scamper and clamor of the likes which I had never seen, each body trying to swarm to the door in the same instant, creating a massive carpet of offensively effusive teenagers.

I bent my head over my desk, and for one very brief second, allowed my composure to shatter and let out a feral, angry cry. Not having control was an issue in itself, but knowing that it would result in one of the arguably finest minds from departing from Hogwarts made this so much worse. I squeezed my temples in a grip I didn't know I was still strong enough for. In that moment, I felt as if I could crush the world between my hands, damn the consequences.

I was acutely aware of another's presence, suddenly, and raised my head. Because of the light pouring in from behind them, I could only see the outline of the head. Unfortunately, it was neither Hermione Granger nor Dumbledore.

Remus Lupin, a man with a muder-inducing habit of popping up where he was least wanted gave me what he must have deemed a thoughtful glance.

Catch you at a bad time, Severus?, he asked lightly, not stepping any further into the dungeons. My mood had soured even more, and my hands itched to come into ruthlessly violent contact with his face.

Take. What. You. Need. And. Get. The. Hell. Out, each syllable felt like someone was driving unadultured acid through my tongue. Cursing is something I resort only when my mettle has been hammered so thin.

Even Lupin, one of the most common men at which my most deadly verbal assaults are aimed, looked taken aback. In fact, he looked positively furious.

You've no right to speak to me like that, Severus. I admit, and freely so, that I was almost all the way out of line before, lecturing you on how to conduct your personal life. Hermione Granger is a delicate and rare kind of woman, Snape, and although I see none of what she must envision in you, I will not permit you to go stomping on her heart, he hissed in a tone venomous enough to match my own.

I raised an eyebrow, impressed, Lupin, I would have never once believed, in all these fond memories I cherish so dearly of you, that you had either the testosterone nor the courage.

My voice was mechanical and limp to my own ears, for ammunition was nil and my weariness was high. He looked flustered, clearly expecting something far more odious to roll off my well practiced tongue.

Why are you here, Remus?, I asked again, burrowing my face in my hands, a headache so severe, it made the room pulsate to unheard music. He stepped forward, voluntarily entering my lair of self hate and destruction.

Because Hermione tearfully confessed that's she's leaving for muggle London when this term is over, his voice was prying, and I was determined to see that his lupine snout found none of the bones.

Perhaps, dear colleague, that is between Granger and myself, I responded blandly, picking up my quill and lightly brushing oft' used scathing remarks upon the paper.

Snape, just know that Hermione Granger has many allies, myself included, and it would pain us to see her in anguish over such a prat as you, he said, almost mildly, but with a surge of hot anger. It suddenly occurred to me that he might have a fondness for Granger as well, and besides feeling utterly disgusted at myself for even considering her a pawn in her juvenile masculinity competition, it gave me an oddly warm feeling of dominance.

Don't fool yourself, Lupin. Nothing lay between Granger and myself. It was a momentary, one sided attraction, and unfortunately, she found her ardor couldn't withstand painful memories of myself, nor my wounding tongue. In fact, it's rather a relief she's leaving for London. Perhaps, dear friend, she will gain time to improve upon her social skills, I replied in a deftly cool tone. Lupin looked nauseous, as did I.

A frightened, angry, painfully muffled scream brought both of our attention's to the door. Granger stood there, looking stricken, blighted, and absolutely lurid with rage. Her jaw unclenched, and a scream of such uncouth fury spilled forth, I had an inkling as to what Odysseus had heard when his beloved sea sirens had undergone their transformation.





















A/N: Oooooh! I know Snape is suuuch a syphilitic bastard, but I'm desperately trying to keep this from becoming meaningless, stupid fluff. Anyway, I would say that Lupin is OOC, but he's very hard to grasp, even when reading the real books. Hoped you liked. Responses appreciated.