Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. (Like you don't know that =) )
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OWL POST NO.1
STATUS: SENT.
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He sealed the letter in a plain brown envelope, making sure that none of the contents showed through. But as soon as Hermione's name was written across its faded front, he picked the letter up by the tips of his long fingers, and strode over to the fireplace behind his desk. Snape dangled it above the tongues of inferno, contemplating his sanity. Am I really about to expose my horrors and desires to an infernal show-off? If this falls into the wrong hands, there will only be one word to define the outcome. Apocalypse.
The fire seemed to agree with him by leaping greedily at the edges of the letter. He stood before the incinerator, unblinking and unmoving, but his mind was very much alive. As he closed his eyes in defeat, his fingers slackened, and the letter began it journey to the heart of flames.
But something in him snapped, just before the fire's hunger was satisfied. I have suffered in silence for too long, and someone else must share my pain!
With the rare agility of the most skilful dueller, Snape whipped out his wand, and shouted, "Efflo caminusio!", causing a rush of water and air to surge through his fireplace, and the afore-said fire hissed spitefully as it passed.
With trembling fingers, Snape picked partially-burnt letter up, and laid it on his desk to dry. The night sky had now darkened, but the brightness of Hogwarts remained, assisted by the many rose-coloured lights that illuminated the haunted sky. Even the gloominess of dusk had to give way to the many scented candles burning on school grounds. He sniffed contemptuously, as a faraway giggle was emitted by a simpering girl. He reached for a goblet of Renovamus Plasm, and carefully allowed a few ounces of the pearly blue substance to drip onto letter. As it gradually restored itself, finishing with a drying trick, Snape's eyes glittered.
He walked to the owlery, wrapping a piece of thick cloth around his right arm as he went. At long last, Snape's eyes found the creature that was about to become his partner-in-crime, a ragged bird who, in its prime, was the master of the skies, triumphing even over the notorious hawks. If an owl was able of expressions, this one was downright haughty. Oscen the Great Horned Owl snapped viciously at anyone, regardless of man or animal. It only answered to the one who saved him when his right eye was ripped out, as a result of a death-fight with an equally ferocious Golden Eagle. In a way, the owl reminded Snape of Mad-Eye Moony.
Oscen fluttered to Snape, and settled its long talons on his right arm.The sword-like claws would rip his flesh out, his arm wasn't protected by the cloth. The both of them never exchanged a word, but Oscen understood what his task was, when Snape pointed his finger at a girl who was lounging lazily on the grass by the lake.
Snape watched with mixed feelings as Oscen took flight, and headed towards Hermione. His black robes camouflaged him nicely, as he witnessed the letter dropped into her lap.
Valentines Day. How I look forward to it. Maybe I will take a walk now………and blast some rose bushes. He smiled. One letter a day, Hermione. We shall see how you take it, my insufferable know-it-all.
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"So, what did Vicky say?" asked Ron nosily, as he eyed the envelope that Hermione held in her right hand. The unbreakable trio were sprawled on the grass by the lake. Dateless but happy, they joked and jeered about the other's lack of suitors. In Harry's case, it was more of choosing to be single. The girls who approached him only wanted a repeated account of a Voldemort-encounter, while others like Pansy simply came up to sneer at his scarred face. Cho was in her element, frolicking and twirling with her fifth beau in an unoccupied rose bush.
Hermione, though possessing a wonderful personality and even more exceptional brains, was finding herself unpursued, not that she minded. Ever since she made her entrance as Victor Krum's partner for the Yule Ball during her fourth year, she had become his unofficial girlfriend, although she insisted that he was only her pen-pal. Only Harry knew that the bond between Hermione and Krum was chastely platonic, at least on her part. Tired of dismissing rumours about her love life, she unwisely allowed them to circulate. Unfortunately, this meant that most boys didn't bother to pay her a glance, as they felt sure that they could not compete with the Bulgarian seeker. Of course, if they truly liked her, they would not have minded the Krum factor………
Ron neither liked Padma Patil, nor did he bothered about her sister, Parvati. Like any other teenage male, he, too, had his share of crushes, but despite that, he only carried a torch for one. Regrettably, his refusal to acknowledge the strong feelings he felt for a certain Gryffindor was his downfall.
Hermione pursed her lips angrily, and tucked it into her pocket without so much as giving Ron a glance. "It's Victor, not Vicky," she snapped impatiently, causing Harry to hide a smile at the look on Ron's face. "Get that piece of elementary information into that head of yours, would you?"
"Whatever," replied Ron, as he flushed scarlet. "Aren't you going to open it now? Maybe it's a special edition or something, you know, it's Valentines today, so maybe this one's extra mushy."
To his surprise, Hermione broke into tears. She had always been emotional, but crying because of a little teasing was unheard of. Naturally, the two boys immediately pasted expressions of bewilderedness on their faces.
"What the-" began Ron, as he hastily fumbled for a handkerchief, only to find a wad of used tissues. He offered it to her, nonetheless. Harry sprang to his feet and took out a woolly rag, a gift from Dobby. Hermione accepted that one.
"Victor is sick," she mumbled thickly. "He fell off his broom during practice, and can you believe the impact? Broken ribs, but he survived. But the worst is," she sniffed, as she shook with sobs. "They're covering it up. He begged me not to tell anyone, and only those who attended that practice knew. Do you know that Victor felt as though he was hit by something before he fell? But everyone's saying that his incompetence caused it. How stupid," she wept.
Ron frowned, as he patted her back awkwardly. "Blimey, that IS stupidity! What for? What hit him? Hey, maybe he just wants attention…"
Harry was deep in thought, and when he finally spoke, his voice reeked of bitterness. "I don't think Krum imagined it. It might be Voldemort's intervention. He was close to us, kind of. Maybe, it's like a warning. The Triwizard Champions? Cedric was the first to die. Now Krum almost saw Death and his Scythe. Voldemort might be trying to say something."
Hermione brushed the tears away from her eyes, and her hand quivered as she took out the letter. "I haven't thought of that," she breathed, with a touch of envy. "Perhaps you're right, Harry. This letter," she threw the letter on the ground, frightened. "This didn't come from Victor."
Ron poked a tentative finger at the letter, and Harry noticed that he was a shade lighter. "Do you really think that You-Know-Who sent this?"
Hermione's voice trembled, but she said, "Of course not, silly. The sender is He Who Must Not Be Named."
Harry had to smile at her words. Even such moments cannot suppress Hermione's annoying cynicism, but that was one of the many reasons why he liked her. Ron rolled his eyes, and tried to act unconcerned. "Oh, well," he said loudly, "maybe it's a chain letter. We should throw it away, really."
"No!" gasped Hermione and she gave Ron a look that would silence even the most vocal baby mandrake. "Are you mad? You're over-reacting, because for all you know, this might be from my parents or something."
"Yeah, right," muttered Ron. "As if they'd use such creepy envelopes," But he did not argue after that.
Harry handed the letter to Hermione, his emerald eyes shining with defiance. "It's yours, so it's up to you," he said. Ron snorted, but he consented.
Hermione nodded, and flicked a strand of hair away from her face with an impatient gesture. "Mine," she repeated. Her eyes trailed the foreign, unrecognized handwriting that spelled her very name. A faint scent of burnt paper wafted treacherously in the air, but it showed no signs of any contact with fire. Snape never did things by halves. "It's mine."
Her eyes widened, as she read its frank, blunt contents. "It-it's from a Stranger! And he knows about The Order Of The Phoenix!"
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Snape returned to his office, but he did not bother to relight the fire. The dark Mark on his arm stung, but he ignored it. When the pain became too intense to overlook, he ripped the sleeves of his robes away from his arm, and his eyes became hard and fearful. It was glowing like a sinister reminder of what would befall him, should he break his allegiance to the Dark Lord. Sometimes, he thought, his face livid with fear, I would prefer to tear this limb away from my body. At least, I would not be bound bodily to Him.
His wand was only a reach away, and he could easily prepare an Obtorpescio Potion that would render his nerves senseless, as the ripping was performed. But his hand stayed, as his mind negligently wandered towards his secret tryst. His mouth curved into a bitter smile, as her face shoved itself into his consciousness.
Somehow, for unexplained reasons, it gave his afflicted spirit a firm boost. He clutched his right hand with his left, and waited for the pain to pass before laying his fingers on his falcon-feathered quill. A second one to my insufferable know-it-all. With his teeth clenched, and beetle-black eyes expelling frost, he began to write.
Snape became consumed with his letter, the way Dark Arts absorbed his soul. He was hooked. And as he wrote, with fast, passionate strokes, his heart, which had never fluttered because of a girl, broke its tradition, for the first time. It was untimely to consider his feelings as or love, but never too early to call it interest.
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Hermione read the letter twice, her heart thumping to a rhythm that reminded her of Harry's battle with the Hungarian Horn-Tail. How in the name of Merlin does he know my name? But the letter struck a chord within her, and although she was rendered numb with fear, she felt as though………she knew him. Or her, she thought. No need to assume that a boy sent this, she told herself. I owed him something? His peace? Who is he, this Stranger? Worse thing is, I'm intrigued…..I think.
If Snape wanted to rob Hermione of her serenity, he had succeeded, hands down. As she laid in her bed that very night, Hermione could not take her mind off the Stranger. For the days to come, she would be having even more sleepless nights.
And somewhere, in a particularly frigid office in Hogwarts, a long-suffering man with untameable, greasy hair fell asleep on his half-finished work.
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OMG! Thank you for reviewing my story!
Vanyaria Darkshadow: It means "ORDER OF THE PHOENIX". Thank you!!
Potts: Oh, thanx!
KDarkMaiden: OMG! I loved your review!
Meg, Lady Nessa Fefalas, sosweet22: Wow….
I-Love-Snape: Hey, cool name! Exactly how I feel.
Antagonistcally-Yours: Yep! Very out of character for him, eh? *smiles evilly*
Shiv5468: Dark and bitter Snapes are our favourites. =P
AND
Mrs.shigwa.cobain: I know you reviewed, but I can't find it! Did you review the first version or what?
Whitewolf: I must thank you…You're the first reviewer, even though it didn't appear on the reviews page.