AN: Thanks to brena for kicking my ass and making me write. This is AU after OOtP, and Snape is still Potions master at Hogwarts.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Didn't make any money.
Students often wondered what Snape pondered during class, grading as they brewed. They assumed he thought about detention punishments or noxious-smelling potions assignments. They had no idea that he fantasized about them.
Not in any lascivious way, but in a how-can-I-make-them-miserable manner. It kept him from maiming them when his stress threatened to choke him. Besides, bloodstains were difficult to remove from stone.
Often, he wasn't even grading—his results were more automatic writing and sketching, resulting in splatters of red ink that made the parchment look like it had been used to mop up the blood of a first-year.
He snuck up behind her, barking orders to follow his directions exactly. He had disquieting Granger down to a subtle science, knowing he could get away with it up to five times per class period before Potter would swoop in like her own, personal Lancelot to save her from the clutches of her evil Potions professor.
He mocked her a sixth time. Immediately, Potter rose from his bench, preparing to cross the room to Granger. Snape drew his wand, casting a non-verbal Jelly-Legs Jinx.
Snape smiled from his desk, a broad snaggletoothed grin, mortifying several Hufflepuffs in the front row.
He sat at his desk, grading an essay forty lines longer than the assigned thirty. Granger…
The blood-red ink flowed from his quill like Moses' Nile, covering the parchment in slurs and editing notations.
He lambasted her abilities in prose, demanding to know if she intended to assist Voldemort in proving that Muggleborns were in fact inferior to than their Pureblood classmates. He handed her the parchment as she left class and heard her gasp in the hallway followed by the sound of her feet pounding down the corridor.
Disgusted with his brain, he cast Incendio over the parchment.
The more he realized she was in ever one of his classroom fantasies, the angrier he got with himself. Yes, she had been invaluable to him that summer, helping him establish a potions laboratory in the basement of Grimmauld Place. And yes, when he had been stupid enough to give into her prattling and have a conversation with her, it had not been terribly painful.
He certainly was not attracted to her. He had a strict "no current or former students" policy, which, while it certainly limited his options, kept him remarkably safe.
Did he miss her… friendship? Certainly not.
As he stormed towards Malfoy, he noticed that Malfoy had the audacity to look completely calm.
"Master Malfoy, exactly why were you putting powdered bicorn horn into that potion, instead of shaved bicorn horn as the instructions clearly state?"
Malfoy sneered. "Because Granger did, sir, and her potion is the exact shade of green as yours." Malfoy cocked an eyebrow, daring the Potions master to insult his now-perfect brew.
He turned on his heel abruptly, making his way towards a now cowering Granger.
"Have a good day, sir," Granger said, depositing her vial on his desk, breaking his reverie.
AN: Originally written for the grangersnape100 "Fantasies" challenge.