AN: This is a general warning of two things. First, I don't own Harry Potter since I am not J.K. Rowling in internet disguise, so don't press the lawsuit button on your keyboard. Secondly, I must apologize that I'm not sure that this fic will ever be updated in anything resembling a timely manner. I have a plan for it, it's just taking longer to write than I thought it would.
I keep a mental hate list. I've had to forcibly forget charms instructions over the years to make room for this list. Pensieves are expensive.
Potter is on this list many times. This afternoon's debacle would soon be added. Potter and Weasley went through the standard Auror's "victim" interview with me while I was trapped in the infirmary.
"Tell us what you can remember from last night."
"Nothing. I have amnesia, remember?"
"Oh, right. Sna- erm, Professor Snape. Tell us, can you think of anyone who might have a reason to dislike you?"
No, Potter, everyone loves me to pieces. Deatheaters send me Christmas cards from Azkaban. Really, how did you ever become an Auror?
I tried to burn a hole into Potter's stupid forehead with my eye-hate. His face did not explode into flames. I was satisfied that he did rub at it a bit. Well, almost satisfied.
"Ah, erm, yes, of course. Well, do you know of anyone that you have recently upset a lot more than usual?"
"No."
Potter and Weasley glanced at one another with identically raised eyebrows. Assholes.
"Right. Has anyone seem more interested lately in …erm... spending time with you? Have you received any anonymous letters?"
"I wouldn't see anonymous letters. Granger screens the post I receive for curses. Minerva thinks that since Granger is the Charms instructor, she is the only one qualified to do so. I'm not allowed to touch my own post until it's cleared."
"Do you really get that much bad post?"
"Yes. Are we done?"
"Sure. Send us an owl if you remember anything, okay?"
However, something they had asked did get me thinking. As I made my way down from the infirmary to my rooms I realized that Granger had seemed a lot more interested in me since she had started teaching here. The woman had been asking weekly, -weekly!- if I wanted to join her and the bunch of jolly fat-arses out to Hogsmeade. Even worse she was trying to talk to me at meal times. While I was eating. She probably got that annoying habit from her muggle, dentist parents. Let me ask you a question while you have no way of being able to respond because my bloody fingers are in your mouth. Gods, dentists were morons. Herm- Granger must by connection be moronic too.
Also, it's not like I enjoy her harassment. I like the quiet. She was always fussing about, chattering away about nothing. I mean nothing! Then she has the gall to look offended when I have no idea what to say when she asks a question about the nothing she was talking about.
Ah, speak of the devil. Deviless? Witch, at any rate.
Granger was in my office, rifling through the papers on my desk. She wasn't expecting company and hadn't even heard me come in.
"Just what are you doing in here Granger?"
"Eep!"
And I thought only rodents made that noise. I'd caught her red handed, digging through my … what was it she was looking at?
My reviews. It wasn't enough to give Potter the dirt on whatever I did during my drunken escapades, she had to find tid-bits of failure in my reviews? I felt the heat creep quickly over my neck and face. I suppose it makes sense now. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Granger was up to something, something involving me.
"Fingers, Granger." Her name worked so well with a low growl. And I had just the expression to go with it.
"What?" Her eyes got even rounder, clearly confused by my instructions. Gods, I wanted to smack that look off of her face.
" Remove your fingers from my files before I remove your fingers from you." I threw in another snarl.
"This isn't what it looks like! I was looking for something I had left on your desk by ...erm ...accident."
"Don't lie! You're here to find something titillating that you, Potter and Weasley can chat about. Tsk, tsk, Granger. Still trying so hard to fit in with the boys? Funny though, that you've been here two years and the first time either of them visit is when they have a case. I assume you're desperate enough for their attention that you'd risk your job to break into another professor's office. I can only imagine how disappointed Minerva will be."
I have no idea if any of this was true. Perhaps she is working alone, keeping tabs on the "ex" death-eater for the good of the cause. Or perhaps she was just looking for some amusing reading material.
"That's not... I... I'm sorry, Professor." She ducked and ran through the cramped door that I was still standing in. The air that followed her was full of her smell. English Rose water.
Damn. Why did I notice that? How do I know what she smells like?
Something is terribly wrong here. Had been for months. She'd been slowly and steadily wedging herself into my life, and I had been allowing it. I had let my guard down, been drugged and now found myself being spied on. Foolish. I had to turn this mess around.
Polyjuice is a wonderful thing. Except the taste. Mind that each essence was different, but none of ones I'd ever had were any good. Random, scruffy wizard off the street was particularly vomit-inducing.
Potter and Weasley didn't notice the random, scruffy wizard nursing his pint in at the table next to them at the Three Broomsticks, This almost, but not really, made the rotted meat taste worth it.
I had been using my time wisely the past few days by trying to find out exactly what Potter and Weasley knew about what happened to me or what I might have happened to do to other people.
Instead, I was learning that I should never have babies.
"Blue-green, mate. Blue-green and runny. Bill has no idea what he fed the kid to get that color. "
"Uck. I think I see why Ginny wants to wait to have kids. Nappies must hide the horror."
"Not the horrible smell. You know, I think I can still smell some of it in my clothes."
"How'd it get on your clothes?"
"Harry, I know you've seen some rough stuff, but I don't want to give you the mental image that the explanation would give you. It was just awful."
"And with that, I need another pint, want one?"
"Nah, I'm fine."
The polyjuice was going to run out in about 10 minutes. Potter better come back feeling chatty about work.
9 minutes.
8 minutes.
7 minutes.
What was Potter doing, going to the Hogshead for the beer?
"You talked to Hermione today?" Potter questioned, and I could hear his mug slide across the rough wood of their table as he sat down again.
Gods, talk about my case, damn't. Don't you have to WORK at some point?
"Uh, no, not since she told us about... "
"Her mistake?"
"Yeah, I'm just not sure how to take it. Doesn't it bother you a little that she'd do something like that?"
Dirt on Granger. Hmm, this could be worth it.
"I dunno, Yeah, I guess. She said she just slipped it in without really thinking about the consequences."
I'm sorry, what?
"Yeah, well, now she's gotten herself into this whole mess and I don't know how we're supposed to get her out."
"I don't think it's that big of a deal. She just needs to keep quiet and the whole thing will blow over with no one the wiser."
"What was she thinking? Gods, I just don't understand her when it comes to Snape."
What the hell is going on. Slipped it in? Granger, drug me? Is that what they're saying?
No, this is all out of context. There's some other explanation. Had to be.
The rapidly changing pattern of hair on my forearm told me I would not be able to find out whatever the context was. Time to get out of here. Should have brought a hip flask.
The last thing I heard as the door shut behind me was, "You don't think she has a thing for him, do you, Ron?"
AN: I dunno, do YOU think she has a thing for him? Hope you enjoyed. Thank you very much for reading!
AN: If you want to update your stories, but when you go to 'edit' them you get ' Error Type 2 ' fun, just take the url:
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and replace 'property' with 'content' to get this:
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This is not my solution, but one I found searching the internet. Hope it helps!