My favorite Snape-isms
From time to time, Severus would see her scribbling notes.
Typically, it would be while she was curled in front of the fire at Grimmauld Place, but her incessant scribbling was not confined to their old Order safe house; Ministry events, semi-social gatherings, meetings, at the professor's table during any given meal; Hermione Granger, he pondered, must be some sort of freelance journalist, what with the constant scribbling.
Perhaps she was working on some new Arithmancy hypothesis, he would guess other times.
Occasionally he would wonder why she would break out in that practically illegal smile which she just couldn't contain as she bent forward, her hair cascading over the book in some sort of curly wall of secrecy.
Well, scratch the lyricist idea…her singing voice was abysmal as well as her ability to carry a tune, he confided to himself. As far as he was concerned, though, it could be any of those other possibilities, since she did seem to be one of the more well-rounded professors in the school.
But one day, as she snickered, he couldn't help but feel a bit self conscious. He had just cut another professor to the quick, sending the new Muggle Studies teacher into a bout of hysterical fury. Then he heard her quill scribbling at an alarming speed.
At that point, he contemplated that she was keeping tabs on him. A whistle-blower? On him? His eyes narrowed at the thought. That little…
He spun on his heel, snatching said book from her grasp, ignoring her squealed protestations.
With one hand, he raised the book to a proper reading level while using the other to keep her planted firmly in her chair by gripping her shoulder firmly.
Of course, she could have gotten loose if she really, really wanted to, but at one point, she just stopped to watch his face. Her own was covered with annoyance and yet exuded begrudged indulgence.
On the first page, it clearly stated, "My favorite Snapeisms"
Not every entry was a razor-sharp slash. There were adages and insights that weren't negative in the least. Some of his own words were even downright Hufflepuff-ish, and he bristled at them being in recorded, but it wasn't his journal.
The phrases she chose were diverse, and he couldn't help but notice that she had even taken to categorize his comments by not only subject, but she had taken to cross-referencing. There were eight pages strictly focused on Trelawney. There were several pages on Minerva. Almost a quarter of her journal was reserved for her two best friends.
At times the quotes were without preface, others gave details of location and context. What did unnerve him was the fact that she had reserved the very back of the book to house comments he made directly to or about herself.
When he came to the page with her name he hesitated.
A brief visitation of insecurity was instantly mauled by his sense of pride and his belief that if he had ever truly crossed the line with her, she would no doubt crack the proverbial whip. With that thought, he flipped that page and began to read:
[On his way to the kitchens] "I'm going down now. Do you want to come?"
"Mention that again, and I'll give you the tongue-lashing you deserve." [Our "great debate" which ended by Severus singing Harry's eyebrows off and giving Ron a stinging hex where it hurt.]
"Yesssss. Just like that." [While assisting with final touches of his research project.]
"He doesn't understand you, because he doesn't have the intellect, the ability, or the complexity. But since I hate repeating myself, I will NOT tell you he's a complete imbecile." [While wiping my face dry. See Ron page 312.]
[His favorite exclamation of surprise when we are alone.] "Well, Fuck me!"
He glanced around the book to look plainly at her face. She was rather angry, no doubt, but there was something else there, which he couldn't quite place as he began to read again.
Pages. Pages and pages and pages, all filled with innuendo. Freudian slips that he didn't even realize saying until seeing them in print. Had anyone seen this, other than her, they would think he was either the biggest pervert, the biggest pig, or worse. They'd think he was some poor sod hoping to get his way by mentioning naughty things enough times with the hopes of wish fulfillment .
Severus knew at that point that no other person could be allowed to read this. While some would be infinitely offended (which he couldn't care less), more would be shocked at the sheer number of raunchy things he said to her. Disgusted by them (once again, he couldn't care less).
How many people would be unsettled by the fact that he was obviously drawn to her enough to make this multitude of comments to her. Now that, he thought out, was just too exposing for his own sake, and he wasn't about to let her…admiration (a tidbit to savor later)…to give anyone insight to his life.
For that reason alone, he drew his wand just as Hermione stood and squeaked in protest a second too late.
He handed the journal back to her and swiftly made his exit. He could hear her fanning the pages to see what he had done to her years of work.
Over his shoulder, Severus Snape left in parting, "I've charmed your notebook to exclaim loudly, 'You are an arse of the greatest proportions for trying read Hermione Granger's private journal.' anyone else who tries to read it."
He could hear her growling her anger at the little scare, and he couldn't help but add with a small grin, "Of course, said in my voice."