I, Snape

I, Snape - Prologue

It all belongs to Rowling, except what you don’t recognize.

This is part of the Marrying Snape Challenge here on AFF.net started by Kiristeen. I’m doing something a bit different this time around. I’m taking this opportunity to write a sex farce and because it is a farce, it will have some darklemelements than my usual writings.

Since I’ve assigned myself a stylistic stretch, my work is usually romance with angst and humor thrown in, I may totally fall flat on my face. If I do, I hope you will join in for a good laugh. Let’s have some fun with this.

In addition, I’m writing with two POVs. One is Snape’s (oh yeah, the title) and the other is my favorite omniscient author/storyteller. Hopefully, I can pull this all off. At the least, I hope we shall both be entertained. So let’s begin…


Prologue

Inconceivable as it may be, Miss Granger has managed to do the unthinkable and has turned me into a rather large, black cat. She is holding me captive in her head girl room, and though she promises to release me once she has graduated Hogwarts and made it safely onto the Hogwarts Express, I do fear that perhaps she will do me in and go off merrily on her way. Obviously, there is no love lost between the Know-it-all and myself.

I thought at first my existence as a feline had been the result of some sort of psychotic break with reality; however, my past three days in this disgusting condition has taught me otherwise. I am not some Sirius Black to take pleasure in the licking of my own genitalia. Nor does the frequent, nay, unceasing desire to be stroked and to capture and eat small hapless creatures bring me any delight.

I have used my wits to try to convince her to release me immediately, but all attempts at communication have been for naught. I have tried to convince her that I mean her no harm. If she were to release me now, I would not bear her any malice nor try to have her expelled. No. She sees through my ruse every time. Oh, she goes along with the stroking of my belly and my warm grateful purrs, but she refuses to take my overtures as anything but what they are: manipulations intended to gain my freedom and her total destruction.

I shall crush you under my heel! But first I must kick that familiar out of the closet, where he has been cowering during my imprisonment, and use the cat litter. I emerge after a thorough scratching, and I see my enemy before me holding a plate.

“Ah, Professor, there you are! Look, I have some lovely salmon for you.”

I sniff at it and realize with disappointment that not only is it cooked it is also smoked. I sneer at it and walk away. Of course that sycophant of hers comes running up and iiateiate starts to tuck in with relish.

“That’s fascinating, Professor Snape. I didn’t know that cats had the actual muscular ability to produce a sneer.” Miss Granger shakes her head and starts to undress. I head under the bed where I can watch her strip tease unnoticed. Has she forgotten that I am a man! How dare she so wantonly remove her clothes in my presence? Does she not know what she is doing to me? There is a twitching in my privates and yet again I am overwhelmed by the intense desire to lick myself into ecstasy. I fight it as long as I can! I am Snape. I have survived being a Death Eater and a spy. Yet I am totally defeated by this chit of a girl. Just you wait Miss Granger! I shall get you and wreak my vengeance.

I watch as Miss Granger changes into her dress robes. Ah, the Leaving Feast. Of course, no one is looking for Snape. No one has sent up a distress alert. Miss Granger has very cleverly covered for my absence by telling one and all that she met me as I was leaving for an extended holiday. And everyone believed her. Actually they all probably believe that I had a nervous breakdown, at least I’m sure that’s what Albus believes and he might even be right to do so. No one should have undergone what I have suffered. No wonder my behavior of the past three weeks seemed a bit peculiar. This is your fault entirely, Miss Granger. Inadvertently, I hiss out loud.

Now fully dressed, she bends over and speaks to me under the bed.

“I know you are angry. I’m very sorry. Please, you must believe me. I was only trying to help.”

If you want to help, you will release me right now! Damn. All that comes out is a plaintive howl.

She picks me up and tenderly strokes me, rubbing her face into my fur. “Tomorrow after I leave everything will go back to normal,” she whispers. “I’ll have graduated and will be gone from here forever. You’ll never see me again. I’m going to put a time ward on the door and as soon as it opens you can go to Professor Dumbledore to be changed back.”

I want to scratch her so badly. But she is a student, and so I will not damage her. But look out, Miss Granger. As soon as you are not my student—all bets are off!

She leaves and a deep melancholy overtakes me. I’ll never see her again. No woman wants me in any way, shape or form. It’s been twenty years since I’ve taken the dark mark and my life has been one cstinsting of fear and aloneness. I’ve tried to convince myself over the years that this is what I wanted and I am much better off in this self-imposed isolation. However, with the death of the Dark Lord and his minions, the argument is wearing thin. Indeed, as much as I wish to punish Miss Granger, there was something soothing in crawling under her sheets and sleeping next to her. Her smell, the softness and warmth of her body, keenly reminds me of what I have been missing these past decades.

Underneath my self-discipline and training, I am, after all, a man. I do bleed-- I’ve certainly been in the infirmary enough times to prove it. I’ve always been a very emotional person and that is why I’ve had to work so hard to develop mastery over myself. But the war is over, can I never be allowed to be human? I laugh. Human! Why Snape you are a Cat! And it has taken your being a cat to show you what has been missing from your life—the touch of a woman! I think back over the absurdist tragedy that has been my existence for the past three weeks, ever since the war ended, and can only marvel over the changes that have come to me.


It all began a week after Potter, that dim-witted accursedly lucky poltroon, yes I call him a poltroon, for all he did was fulfill a prophesy nothing more, finally vanquished the Dark Lord. He knew it was kill or be killed, not much choice in that, is there?

I had been sitting in my chambers, feeling once more at loose ends. Never again would I receive the painful calling of the Dark Lord, never again would I be filled with the loathing and disgust I felt over the changes that had occurred in a man I once admired. Yes, I took the dark mark proudly, thinking it was a cause that would transform my life, giving it meaning and honor. Well, transform it it did. I became nothing more than a lackey, a house elf. Meaningless drudge to a madman! And when I went crawling to Dumbledore, he offered little solace. I thought I wanted him to kill me, but I think now, I only wished him to save me from myself. He did neither, and suddenly I was servant to two masters.

Sickened by the obsessional quality of my thoughts, my eyes lit on a bottle of Merlin’s Magical Merlot given to me as a bribe by the parent of one of my Slytherins. A chance memory came of happier times. Fifteen years ago I had broken off our affair, after learning that Lucius Malfoy had been released from Azkaban through the not so original argument that he’d only been a Death Eater through duress. Of course, a man of his wealth and position could get away with it. I feared for my lover, she was a halfblood, her father had been a Muggle. Should Malfoy find out, well, I couldn’t risk it. My disillusionment was complete when I received his owl. Though the Dark Lord was gone, way too many of his people remained free.

I picked up the bottle and decided to join my once beloved for a trip down memory lane. All right, truth be told, I was as amorous as a Kneazle in heat and was hoping that perhaps I could find a little bit of diversion in her bed. I know I am thoroughly lacking in appeal to the opposite sex, but for some amazing reason she had a soft spot for me. I hoped that the spot hadn’t yet rotted away.

I knocked on her door. She briskly opened it, “Severus? What do you want?” Her voice oozed with mistrust, yet she didn’t slam the door in time. I had a leg and a foot into the room and I took this for a good sign.


Next Chapter – Snape’s Mother

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