Yes, 'tis I. Remember me?
Now this is new/old. New in the sense that it is completely original and never before posted, old in the sense that I started it a while ago. I found it on a memory stick I thought I'd lost. Not sure why I didn't publish it before as I'm very fond of it. I think I even made a banner for it a while ago, but that is lost in the mists of crashed hard drives. It's a series of drabbley type things, although none of them are too short. I won't give too much away, but it is essentially going to be a series of insights into the minds of various HP characters, focused through Snape and on Hermione. It will ultimately be an SS/HG story with some Laurielove snugglings to boot.
Please follow/like me on facebook (Laurielove) and also, my dear readers, I am compelled to encourage you to invest a mere few pennies or cents in the writings of my alter ego, Demelza Hart, details of which you will find on her facebook page of the same name, and Laurielove's. Or you can google her. It is thanks to you that I have been able to make the move to original, published writing, and I would love you to follow me on that journey too. Sh*t, that is vomit-inducing language, but you know what I mean. And I do mean it. You're still all with me, you know.
And, don't worry, I will be continuing and completing Entrancing Wendy soon.
So, here you are - who doesn't want to delve into the mind of this man? Thing is, he's had the same idea.
Severus Snape's finger traced the rim of his wine glass. He observed the narrow edge digging into his flesh with smooth precision. Soon enough, the distraction wore off and he raised his eyes dully to stare out across the Great Hall at the assorted masses of students.
Everyone, staff and students alike, had gathered in the hall for the annual academic summary, during which all the achievements, changes in syllabus and notable developments would be listed in dry chronological detail.
It was a necessary evil, demanded by the Governors and dreaded by pupils and teachers alike.
The staff took it in turns to deliver the speech, dreading the year it would be their duty. This year, the unfortunate task had fallen to Professor Flitwick. He was currently delivering the lengthy edict in the most somniferous monotone imaginable.
Once the meagre academic achievements of Slytherin had been detailed, Severus had given up listening, and now ennui was settling in.
He brought his hand slowly up to his chin, smoothing over the smattering of late afternoon stubble which was starting to poke through. His eyes narrowed a little. The sensation displeased him.
The year would be over in a few weeks. It had been an unusual one. The previous school year, due to – unusual circumstances – had been repeated. The entire student body had returned, one year older, but, Severus noted regretfully, not a year wiser. Well, there were, he grudgingly admitted, possibly one or two exceptions.
It was with an odd mixture of surprise at his own survival, annoyance that he had to tolerate Potter and his lackeys yet again, and a forced re-evaluation of his own preconceptions of certain students, that Severus had endured the repeated year. He had relinquished his position as Headmaster: a decision with which he was only too happy after the associations of his tenure. However, he had watched with sly interest as McGonagall had taken up his mantle with efficient but, in his opinion, uninspired leadership. Still, her precise administration had enabled life to proceed as it had before the war (now, refreshingly, without the presence of the Dark Lord.)
Turning his head slowly, he looked towards the Headmistress. She sat bolt upright, her head inclined to her colleague as he detailed the new varieties of plants developed in Herbology. Severus smirked with subtle wryness. Despite looking in the direction of their diminutive colleague with apparent engagement, McGonagall's eyes were glazed and empty, her mind as far from the droning tedium as Severus wished he physically was.
Severus knew from past experience that the speech was likely to last at least another three-quarters of an hour or so. An ache developed within him. He was a master at suppressing the stultifying effects of boredom, his mind usually quick to latch onto a matter requiring careful thought, but the enforced need to be still and silent at this moment was making this hard even for him.
How to pass the time?
He cast his heavy gaze once again over the students, noting how several had slipped into a doze. Under the circumstances, even he found it hard to hold it against them.
Soon they would move on at last, this year group to end all year groups, as he had thought. Instead, he had had to endure an extra year of the arrogant, insipid rabble. Still, all were now older. Some had been through turmoil beyond anything he would wish on fellow human beings. After all had been said and done, he had mustered some respect in his embittered heart.
As he looked at them now – Weasley, Granger, Malfoy, Lovegood ... Potter – he wondered what their own tormented minds were contemplating to endure the sluggish countdown of minutes.
He wondered ...
Not since the intellectual vanity of youth had he used Legilimency without the consent of the subject. But now ...
They wouldn't know … would they?
He glanced surreptitiously at Flitwick. He had only reached History of Magic – another ten subjects to go. They were there for the long haul, and Severus could take no more.
His dark eyes moved back to the students. Weasley sat, his jowls pushed up in grotesque distortion as he rested his chin on his right fist, his left hand pushing a fork around the remnants of food on his plate. Beside him was Granger, arms folded in front of her, looking vaguely up towards high-table, but her eyes were clearly focused on anything but Flitwick. Of all of them, she had developed the most during the events of the last few years, and now sat, straight-backed and elegant. Severus could not deny her maturity and intellect, traits which had moved so far beyond her peers he wondered how she had tolerated being back in the institution.
Opposite her was Lovegood, an intriguing creature. He had rather enjoyed, if that was the word, her curious obscure mind. More than the others, with the exception perhaps of Granger, it was she who had shown the most interest in, and proclivity for, his subject.
And beside her, Potter. He was staring intently at the table, flicking something around with intent concentration. Idle as ever, concluded Severus. But certainly a survivor and ... saviour. Severus' top lip curled almost automatically. He still hated the boy. But the boy had grown into a man, and the man had brought them all into the world of normality they now inhabited. Even Severus was grateful for that.
His eyes moved to his own table of Slytherins. By his own standards, a more feeble-minded, self-absorbed and spineless bunch you would struggle to find anywhere. His gaze fell on the white blond hair of Draco Malfoy. He was sitting with his head clasped tight in his hands, his piercing eyes staring across the hall determinedly.
Severus sniffed in. He hadn't endured all he had not to allow himself the occasional indulgence.
Focusing his senses, he stared hard at the young blond man and, discreetly and secretly, entered his mind.
More very soon. I have all but one or two of these completed, and the others will not take too much. Nice to be back. LL x