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Snape/Hermione in progress. G thus far. I have NO IDEA what the plot of this is, but this idea has been kicking around in my head, somewhat inexplicably, since an exchange with
graene the other day.
I don’t know what to say.
Snape tossed the first theoretically anonymous note card from Hermione Granger into the trash with little thought. Even had he had any time for her misguided romanticism, ineffectual air of mystery or vague insistence that her ability to form relatively well constructed sentences granted her some sort of special privileges during the war, which he hadn’t, he certainly had no interest in them now other than to wonder in passing what had made her so abruptly stupid.
I keep almost discovering a grace in loneliness.
This card, Snape crumpled as he mentally added “poet” to her list of sins.
How can I be brilliant, but not actually good at anything?
Snape snorted. Flipped the card over and wrote perhaps you’re not and shoved it at his bird, hoping against hope that Granger’s sudden discovery that anonymity when it came to the wizarding post required far more effort than not signing one’s name would give her enough of a heart attack to stop the strange, plaintive and not terribly original missives from arriving at his house.
Oh, shit.
Apparently any successful outcome as regards hope was one of those activities still barred to him. Snape laughed in spite of himself, tossed the card in the trash and considered the matter closed. At least until the next day’s post.
So, how are you professor?
He scowled. The little bint always was determined. Despite no longer answering to that title, because I am, thankfully, no longer employed by your alma mater, I am, apparently, still plagued by dunderheads and ungrateful chits who don’t know when to shut up. What do you want, Miss Granger?
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I don’t know what to say.
Snape tossed the first theoretically anonymous note card from Hermione Granger into the trash with little thought. Even had he had any time for her misguided romanticism, ineffectual air of mystery or vague insistence that her ability to form relatively well constructed sentences granted her some sort of special privileges during the war, which he hadn’t, he certainly had no interest in them now other than to wonder in passing what had made her so abruptly stupid.
I keep almost discovering a grace in loneliness.
This card, Snape crumpled as he mentally added “poet” to her list of sins.
How can I be brilliant, but not actually good at anything?
Snape snorted. Flipped the card over and wrote perhaps you’re not and shoved it at his bird, hoping against hope that Granger’s sudden discovery that anonymity when it came to the wizarding post required far more effort than not signing one’s name would give her enough of a heart attack to stop the strange, plaintive and not terribly original missives from arriving at his house.
Oh, shit.
Apparently any successful outcome as regards hope was one of those activities still barred to him. Snape laughed in spite of himself, tossed the card in the trash and considered the matter closed. At least until the next day’s post.
So, how are you professor?
He scowled. The little bint always was determined. Despite no longer answering to that title, because I am, thankfully, no longer employed by your alma mater, I am, apparently, still plagued by dunderheads and ungrateful chits who don’t know when to shut up. What do you want, Miss Granger?
no subject
Date: 2006-07-31 05:31 am (UTC)that seems unlikely and un-Snapish, however. er.
Hermione seems to think she is writing into a void, but . . . why?
i'm curious enough to want more.
and also to want to know who else is writing to him.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-31 01:11 pm (UTC)Nor do i think this is one of those odd humour pieces where Snape is the secret writer of a Dear Abby-type column. He is also _not_ the wizarding version of the post-secret guy, despite whatever this is looks like right now.
Weird thing.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-31 03:14 pm (UTC)