Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.
__________________________________________________________________
Dear Stranger: A Severus Snape Tale.
__________________________________________________________________
The tall, raw-boned, dark-haired man buried his head in his arms. The black sleeves of his flowing robes crinkled as his head made contact with his elbows. His mouth was not displaying its usual sneer, but instead, it was twisted into a smile of anguish. It is Valentines Day, but the company that I'm having right now invokes no warmness within me. Alone in his chilly, dungeon-like office, Professor Severus Snape was visited by his banes. Memories of childhood tormentors, an abusive parent and a certain quartet of Marauders brought snarls of agony to his thin lips. I smile for the happiness that I've never felt. I laugh at the bleakness of my empty life. Cheers, for the lost wizard, Severus Snape, myself
******************.
It was Harry, Ron and Hermione's seventh year at Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, remained an unassuming, bespectacled boy who had grown even more over the summer. Mrs Weasley had smiled delightedly, when he visited the Weasleys at The Burrow, for he was not as pitifully underweight as before. The Order's members were constantly sneaking 'edible mail' to him, leaving Uncle Vernon perplexed over how Harry could've grown, considering that they only fed him Brussels sprouts. Mad Eyed Moony was the worst, with his cakes, Exploding Chocolate Frogs, and Sugar Mice. Tonks came in a close second by mailing boxes of candy that would horrify Hermione's dentists parents.
Ronald Weasley, on the other hand, became even ganglier than before, if it was possible. His lankiness made him the constant target for the nickname 'flamingo', by his sister Ginny. But as Fred and George sagely put it, 'Trelawney' would be a better name. Understandably, Ron protested till his neck was flushed scarlet.
Hermione Granger neither lost her bushy brown hair or her hunger for knowledge. And she was never shy about flaunting her superior intelligence in Harry and Ron's blank faces. Her teeth might be smaller, and more aligned, and she had grown into an admirable young lady, but she remained Hermione Granger. No jaw-dropping gorgeousness that would turn heads or cause temporary loss of words like Fleur Delacour the half Veela, of course, but pleasant to look at, nonetheless. That was Hermione Granger.
Before the tale proceeds, a little background should be painted, about the events that took place in the past year since the death of Sirius. The year after, while Harry was in his sixth year, Voldemort's attacks became bolder, more constant. Snape, a Death Eater shielded by his skilfulness at Occlumency, was able to pass invaluable information to Dumbledore and The Order of The Phoenix. But recently, the fallen wizard's plans were foiled too frequently, and such carelessness by the Order had aroused suspicions that there might be an insider among the Death Eaters. Currently, the situation was extremely critical, and Snape believed that it was only a matter of time before Voldemort questioned his loyalty.
Caught between his job as Potions Master at Hogwarts, and a member of the Death Eaters' meetings, Snape's perseverance was crumbling. He was torn between his allegiance to Dumbledore, the man who gave him a second chance, and his hatred and fear of being an undercover ally to Voldemort. Complaining or any hint of refusal to serve as a spy would result in the dreaded disappointment from Hogwart's Head.
*******************
Snape threw his head back, and felt his greasy mane swish through the air. Valentine's Day is overrated, he thought sadistically. His father never once showed his mother any affection, whether on Valentine's Day or any other day. The shouts, bellows and pleas still raged in Snape's head during unguarded moments.
He glanced down, and his ebony eyes fell on a pile of parchments that was the finished homework of his class. A particularly lengthy one caught his orbs, and he recognised the neat handwriting in a second. It belonged to a girl who knew everything. Everything but how Severus Snape was feeling, the mask of his sour expression.
She knows about the Order, he thought pensively. His bony hand was halfway across his desk, about to grasp a roll of spare parchment. She has annoyed me for so long……she and her long, snooping nose. Doesn't she ever get tired of raising that arm of hers? That insufferable know-it-all.
But the fact that she knew about the Order, and their works, stayed in his mind. Even more prominent was that Hermione was undeniably a brainy student, with remarkable logic and level-headedness. For a while, Snape idly toyed with the idea of telling her how he felt, how he was imprisoned in a world of double-crossing, how he put his forsaken life on the line each time he responded to the Dark Lord's summoning. Dumbledore thinks that I am the perfect wizard for the job. A highly skilled Legilimen, he said. But we both know that it is because I have nothing to lose. It would give her nightmares, to know what I am caught in. She deserves it, after all the headache she gave me. How dare she use a disarming spell on me during her Third Year? She will wake up sweating, if, for a moment, she was allowed into my mind. For a strange reason, the visualization brought a rare, amused smile to his gaunt face. He reached for a quill, and took a deep breath.
Dear Hermione Granger,
I am a friend. Do not be afraid, but if you doubt my honour, the password is "Xineohp Eht Fo Redro". Being the intelligent person that you are, I have no doubt that you will understand what it means. You owe me my peace, and so, I have come to claim the debt. What I am about to tell you, may either satisfy your gluttony, or reduce you to the broken figure that I now am. It is not yours to decide. Oh no. It is mine. You will be hearing from me……..soon.
A Stranger
____________________________________________________________
Em: Hello there! If you've read this, you simply MUST tell me what you think about it. But one thing, I ask of you. No flames, okay? I've had enough of those to last me two and a half lifetimes. =P