I began to laugh, almost weep in hysterical gladness and humiliation. The little wench wanted me to grovel at her feet for a week and try to have me make up her ever-changing mind; the worst part was, I was willing to do it.

I could have said no, refused, point blank and seen her wilt. I could have spat in her face for her presumptuousness, I could have even slapped her, pretentious weasel she was. But I did none of these things because, honestly, the thought of her leaving mashed my coherency and my mind into a pulp.

Besides from going about gnashing my teeth in regret, there was a new tirade of problems to face: how, exactly, to win her heart back.

I freely admit that I wasn't exactly charming to her, and that my manners bordered on savage, and my constant disparaging did little to her sense of self worth. But could she not see that I was gifted in the art of ruining another? That I was quickest on my feet when it resulted in injuring someone else? That tearing down egos, pretensions, confidence were all part of my job, let alone my personality? If the girl didn't want to accept me as is, then I was afraid that she would have to go flying into the remainder of her terrible trio's arms.

If I had contained the energy and zeal of the bitterness I felt in her first year, the thought of my trying to go about prostrating myself to Granger would have undoubtedly sickened me. And it still did, for I was muchly used to exerting absolutism on my less fortunate pupils and confidantes.

I bit down upon my nail, wanting to find something to vent frustration, rage, hatred and blissful, contradictory relief. Soon, I found myself gnawing my hands into an unattractive frenzy, ready to tear out my hair, strand by strand.

A shadow was cast upon the floor, and I hoped fervently, for the unfortunate intruder's sake, that it was not a student.

I should have known better, for Dumbledore came in looking vexed in a very sated way, if there is such a thing.

, was my intonation, for I had no wish to converse with the most infuriatingly equivocal person ever dropped upon this earth. I was expecting amusement, but instead I found sympathy in his features.

Oh, Severus, I am afraid that the first dollop of pride swallowed is most assuredly the hardest, he said mournfully, coming over to give me a grand fatherly pat upon my shoulder. I wanted to shrug him off, but I had the overwhelming feeling he would merely prop it there again.

Are you always such a cheerful sadist?, I snapped, removing my finger from my mouth. It was a very un-Snapeish thing to do. He chuckled quietly, thinking that humor was not what I was trying to serve him with.

Flexibility is key, professor. It's something, unfortunately, you were not endowed with, he sighed. I rolled my eyes, and pointedly tapped my foot in the direction of the door.

Well...I don't even understand the bloody point if she's leaving for the term anyway, I blurted angrily, wanting to incite more than a melancholy reaction from Dumbledore.

Don't ever say that! You strike me as very stunted for an extremely intelligent man, Severus. You may as well speak of why bother living if you can't have all the gold in Gringotts, Dumbledore replied, still furiously calm, but with something unsettlingly malicious glittering behind his glasses.

I shrugged, My point, Dumbledore, is the girl obviously wants me to perform some life changing feat or something in seven days or do something heroic, like slay one of Charlie Weasley's dragons for her. I have no idea what sickly romantic ideas brew in her head, but I am quite sure that I am capable of none. I'm a potions master, not a bloody saint.

There is no miracle in kindness, Dumbledore said quietly, and began to twiddle his thumbs in such a distractingly giddy manner, that what was said was lost on me.

Wait....oh, for Merlin's bloody sake, stop that! What about kindness?, I barked. He looked up and gave a remarkably childlike smile.

Kindness, Severus, a bit of kindness would not kill either of you. A comment that is neither hurtful nor at her expense, perhaps a clue that you actually do take some form of joy from her companionship, he said timidly.

Because I am not particularly fond of deceit, however ironic it may sound, I said nothing. But because pridefulness is also something that comes shackled with my personality, I did not hang my head.

If Granger is so thick that she cannot perceive that I indeed enjoy her company, well....then...I cannot help her, I blustered.

You are an entirely impossible man to read, Professor, I myself sometimes wonder at you, Dumbledore replied, looking at me over his spectacles.

Yes, yes and what of it? Perhaps I do not wish to be read like an open bloody book. Perhaps my secrets are not things which I wish to be painted around the school, I said angrily, twisting my robes between my fingers.

I am not saying to go round and divulge your secrets, Severus. Treat her as an equal, not a child, he said calmly.

This answer not only silenced me, it sent such a wave of guilt over me that I failed to respond. Obviously, he had taken this as a sign of resignation, for he left my chambers, a rainbow spectrum of silvery blue.






A/N: Oh my gods! I have just seen the new Harry Potter, and I insist that everyone must immediately stampede to go and witness this miracle. Alan Rickman is delectable, as is Jason Isaacs who portrays Lucius Malfoy. But back to Rickman, the man was born in black, ne c'est pas? He is spitting, scowling, glowering and oh-so-godly Severus Snape. He plays him to a tee, and he is certainly much more subtle than the first movie, and his mannerisms and makeup and hair are not as silly. Anyways, just to conclude, I cannot imagine a more fitting actor to play the part, and I would certainly kiss the ground both Severus and Rickman walk upon. Title from the famous AC/DC song.