Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. All of them belong to the magnificent JKR. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: So, it's getting close to that time of year again…February 14th. We were talking in my Health class about how all of us were single and I just kind of got this idea to talk about what the HP characters all thought about Valentine's Day. We always get the sappy Lily and James stories, the sappy Harry and Ginny stories—just sappy stories in general. Well, here are a few Valentine's Day stories that you haven't heard. Of course, we're starting out with Snape…

A Sham

For one day a year, everyone goes certifiably insane. I am quite sure that I, alone, remain sound of mind and heart during February fourteenth—the most ridiculous holiday ever contrived by man. I alone see this holiday for the farce it is.

I watch them every year, melting over frilly cards, working themselves into a frenzy in the never-ending quest for the Perfect Gift, stealing kisses in the corridors, writing love notes when they should be brewing potions, all this I see, and it makes me ill. I become physically ill watching all of them. Do they not all see the grand sham that they play at? Surely, I think, one of them must realize. I pray that at least one among their number is cognizant of the sheer absurdity of validating one's love with chocolates and pink paper hearts, of pretending to love unconditionally for just one day, of raising hopes to crush them.

Perhaps this is just the bitter cynicism of a man who has never had a Valentine—though not for lack of trying. No, I have never had a sweetheart to profess my love to, to buy chocolates for, or to steal kisses from. As I've grown older, I have stifled any and all urges for the pleasure of anyone's company. I am quite secure in knowing that I need no one.

Of course, I was not always like this. As a younger child of perhaps maybe twelve or thirteen years, I myself had certain feelings for one of my peers. I can see her face clearly in my mind's eye, though her name escapes my recollections. She was quite pretty and very kind, always willing to lend me her notes from History of Magic, and was one of the few who would smile or say hello to me in the corridors. I am denied the knowledge of what possessed me to reveal my affections for her on Valentine's Day, but for weeks and weeks prior to that dreaded date, I plotted and schemed, desperately searching for the perfect words to say and the most beautiful gift to give. I was a silly fool then.

On that day, I readied myself and walked up to her holding a bouquet of roses that I had convinced an older student to conjure up for me. She smiled at me, already anticipating what I had to say. I poured my heart out to her, certain that she would collapse into my arms at any given moment. Instead she shook her head and smiled again, but sadly this time, and took my hand and kissed my cheek. She shoved the bouquet back into my outstretched hand, saying she was allergic, but thanking me for the sentiment.

Looking back on this, I am inclined to perceive her as being one of the intelligent ones, for surely had she lied and accepted my speech and my gift, it would have been more damaging to me than being honest. At least, this is what I tell myself when I allow my thoughts to stray to her.

I have long since accepted that I will never be the handsome princely hero that I so longed to be as a child. I know that I am doomed to be the unwelcoming, evil villain who sends people scurrying without as much as a word or contorted facial expression. I also know that the fairy princess never does end up loving the evil villain. Thus, I will never be left with anyone in the end, no matter how long the delusion lasts.

I will sit here, as I have every day, and as I suppose I will for many more days to come, sipping at a goblet filled with wine. I will not eat chocolates. I will not conjure up pink and purple and red paper hearts. I will not declare my love to one who does not know I even walk upon the face of this earth. I will sit here, toasting myself, as I drink more and more elderflower wine. I will praise myself for seeing through the transparency of the day. I will scorn the day until the ticking of the clock pushes me beyond midnight, and then, I will retire, and fall into an untroubled sleep, my senses dulled and my mind numb.

Happy Valentine's Day.