Fic: Chapter Three

Annoying Professor Snape

Chapter 3: Snapie?!

The Continuation of Tasks 3 and 4

Task 5: Nickname your quill 'Snapie' and talk to it during class

Duration: One class


“Professor Snape, can I have your autograph?” Hermione asked nervously, holding out a piece of parchment and a quill.

“Can you what?” Snape snarled.

“Your autograph, can I, um, have it?” Hermione asked, less sure of herself by the second.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on whom you were) Dumbledore was there, watching the scene with an amused twinkle in his eye.

“Severus, it seems you have a fan. I believe the young lady would like your autograph,” Dumbledore informed Snape.

“My…autograph?” he asked, his tone disbelieving.

Hermione nodded and practically shoved the parchment and quill in his hands, eager to get away as soon as possible. She could hear giggles and snickers from people witnessing her embarrassment. She could only imagine the rumours this little scene would cause...

“Well, if I must,” Snape snarled, regaining the use of his sneer, if nothing else. “Since it seems you are obsessed with me,” he told her snidely, while signing her parchment.

“Oh, no sir,” she told him, taking her signed piece of parchment and quill from him. “This isn’t for me—it’s for Lavender. She’s the one obsessed with you,” Hermione said loudly enough for all to hear. Then she turned and ran to her room, hearing Lavender shouting and running after her. The rest of the groups’ laughter echoed in the hall.

Hermione reached her room and closed the door, but she could still hear Lavender shouting at her from behind it.

“That was a dirty trick, Hermione Granger! I can’t believe you did that! How will I show my face?”

“Oh, clear off Lavender,” she said, laughing at her friend and her dramatics. “If I can show my face after running out of the hall, shrieking at Snape’s spoon, you can show your face after this!”
She heard Lavender sigh and then heard footsteps indicating she had left.

Hermione sank down into her chair, happy that she had her own room this year because she was Head Girl. Hermione looked at the parchment with Snape’s autograph. There were two S’s barely distinguishable in the scribble that was his signature.

Hermione shook her head, and wondered for the fiftieth time why she was doing this. She admitted to herself that it would be funny when they handed him the list on the last day of school at the leaving feast. It would be hilarious to see his face when he realized just what they had done. It would also be funny to hear Harry or one of the others talk about the list in their leaving speech. She also conceded that the two Galleons she was receiving from everyone at the end of the year after she completed all the tasks would be nice, though not necessary. But it was more than that. Hermione finally felt like she belonged.

She had never really been good friends with Lavender or Parvati. She had deemed Parvati a snob and had thought Lavender was only interested in Divination and make-up. Hermione had always been smart and somewhat bossy, and the three girls had never really had much to talk about. Hermione had told herself she didn’t care that they didn’t like her, that she didn’t care that her best friends were boys who were more interested in Quidditch than their marks, but she had given that up in sixth year. It did matter, she knew, no matter what she told herself. But, now, her and Lavender and Parvati had things to talk about, and Hermione realized they were actually interesting people, in their own ways. Hermione actually regretted not finding that out earlier. It turned out Parvati was excellent in Transfiguration, so Hermione could always discuss the lesson with her. And Lavender was tied with Hermione for top of the class in Charms. It seemed the girls weren’t airheads after all.

Now, Hermione fit in and had friends. She was part of a group, and Hermione couldn’t deny that she had wanted that since her first week at Hogwarts. She didn’t mind that some insane challenge had pulled them all together. The fact was that it had and they were all happy, they were all having fun, and they were all friends: and that’s all that mattered.

***

The next two days passed uneventfully, except for the times Gryffindor table erupted into coughs and Hermione glanced at Snape and ran out of the hall.

All in all, Hermione thought, it hadn’t been that bad. Sure, it was a little embarrassing, running out of the hall like that, but no harm done.

Hermione smiled at Ginny who joined them at a table in the back of the Common Room.

“Finally. Gin, we thought you’d never get here,” Harry told her.

“I know, I know, I’m late. It wasn’t my fault though! Snape made us all stay after while he ranted at us about the importance of something being boiled. Or maybe steamed. Anyway, what’s up?”

“Well, now that we’re all here, I think it’s time for—drum roll please,” Lavender told Harry and Ron.

Ron and Harry beat their hands against the table in a poor imitation of a drum roll.

“The fifth task!”

“Great!” groaned Hermione.

“What is the fifth task, Lavender?” Parvati asked, as if she didn’t know.

“The fifth task is to nickname your quill 'Snapie' and talk to it during class,” Lavender proudly announced.

“What? You’re kidding, surely!” Hermione looked at the group. “But, he’ll throw me out of the dungeons! Or give me detention,” she could tell they weren’t relenting, so she sighed and asked, “How long?”

“Actually,” Harry said, “This one’s only for one lesson.”

“Guess you got lucky, eh?” Ginny smiled.

“Yeah, lucky,” Hermione said.

Although not exactly the kind of luck she had been hoping for…

***

“So Snapie, what do you think we’ll have to do today in class?” Hermione asked while looking at her quill. It was the beginning of Potions—and the fifth task. “Snapie, I can’t seem to find my homework…Oh, there it is.”

Snape glared at the class, looking for the speaker. His gaze landed on Hermione, and his scowl deepened when he heard the word ‘Snapie.’ He seemed to be trying to ignore her and her remarks, looking anywhere but at her and her quill. He lasted for all of fifteen seconds, until Hermione started to speak again.

“Hmm,” Hermione said, gazing at her quill, “I wonder what could be holding the class up Snapie.”

Hermione could tell when Snape’s patience ran out; he stood up and stalked to her desk, standing menacingly in front of it. “Miss Granger, what did you just call me?” Snape asked, his voice at its silkiest.

“Oh, I’m sorry, but I wasn’t actually talking to you, sir,” she answered him, looking genuinely confused.

“Then would you care to enlighten us as to who you were speaking with?”

“My quill, Professor,” she replied, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. She even went so far as to wave the quill in front of his face.

“Your quill has a name?” he asked slowly.

“Yes.”

“And what is that name, once more?”

“Snapie.”

“Snapie?” At her nod, he continued, in a deceptively gently tone, “Miss Granger, why is it you are working so very hard to drive me mad?”

Hermione blinked up at him, an expression of innocent confusion upon her face. “Whatever are you talking about Professor?”

“Your quill’s name is Snapie…my last name is Snape…do you see the connection?” He asked as though he were speaking to a small child.

“Actually, Professor, no, I’m afraid I don’t see the connection,” she paused. “However–and I don’t mean to sound rude–I’m curious to know why you believe something I do would have anything to do with you. You seem to be under the impression that I’m obsessed with you. I can assure you, that is not the case. Although, you seem to go out of your way to form connections between my actions and yourself...” Hermione let her voice trail off, her heart pounding, hardly daring to believe that she was actually speaking so to Snape, of all people! She was aware of the rest of the class staring silently at them in a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Snape glared at her before leaning down into her desk, ensuring he was eye to eye with Hermione. “Miss Granger, do not mistake me for an idiot. I am well aware of what is going on and I will not stand for it. I suggest you think long and hard before you continue your little games.” He leaned even further towards her, his voice a mere breath against her cheek. “I assure you, whatever game you seek to play with me, I will always come out on top.” With that, he stood up, straightened his sleeves, and turned towards his desk in a swirl of robes.

“Well, what are you lot waiting for? Get to work!”

Hermione prepared her potion, thinking hard. Could Snape really know what they were doing? She didn’t see how. Yes, he could suspect that her actions were all a part of some game; that was really the only option that made any sense. But surely he couldn’t know anything else, about the list or their plans. And what had he meant by his last line? She realized that, if Snape were to back up his threat (and he really didn’t seem the type to make idle threats), she could be in trouble. Yes, she was good at magic, she could admit that as fact. But Snape...not only was he older and wiser, he was definitely more powerful than she. She had no doubt he would come out on top, like he had promised; in a game of cunning and wiles, he was a Slytherin. When all was said and done, she could never hope to match wits with him.

But still, she decided to enjoy the game while she could. Snape could have just been saying that to throw her off, make her afraid to continue. He might not have any intention of going up against her; after all, he was a teacher, and surely had a lot of work to keep him busy. Hermione knew her excuses were just that–excuses. But, truth be told, she didn’t want the game to end. She was having more fun than she’d had in a very long time. And if Snape did decide to join in, well...

The more the merrier...


To Be Continued...

To Be Continued...