The Diary
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
15
Views:
22,017
Reviews:
74
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
15
Views:
22,017
Reviews:
74
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The Diary
A/N: This was my first SS/HG fic. I originally had it posted at \'Whispers\' so it may look familiar to some of you. I wanted to put all of my stories in one spot, so I am going to slowly move this one over, and then the other one. I am actually quite pleased with the way this one came out. Please let me know what you think of it. Thanks!
*********
The Diary
by Lizski
gretaski@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: Not my people, not making money, yada, yada, yada.
*********
First day of classes. I love the start of a new term – fresh quills, fresh parchment, all the possibilities. The faculty always seem excited about a new term as well, like it’s a fresh beginning for them too. Well, all except Snape. The minute we walked into the classroom, he gave us all a look like we were interrupting his real work. But, who knows. Maybe we are. But why is he teaching then, and not just doing research? Still, he’s a fantastic teacher, despite his, well, his personality flaws, and I am determined to get as much of of this class as possible.
I wonder if Potions would still be my favorite class if we had a nicer, but less competent instructor? Hmmm…
Hermione lay down her quill, and pondered for a moment. It was funny how thoughts that were lurking in the recesses of her brain seemed to vocalize themselves with her quill. It was true – despite Snape’s serious personality deficit, it was her favorite class. The other classes were good, but nothing really brought out the challenge of testing her intellect like Potions did. Defense Against the Dark Arts – well, that depended so much on who was teaching it, and the instructor this year didn’t seem likely to last any longer – or be more effective – than any of the others had been. Arithmancy was work – a lot of work, and a fascinating subject, but the challenge of testing herself against the instructor just wasn’t there.
Smiling to herself, she had to admit that she liked the silent challenges that occurred between herself and the Potions master. After 6 years of classes, she could tell when he was asking a question that was directed at her, in the hopes that she would provide an inaccurate or incomplete answer, allowing him to sneer, and remove house points as a matter of course. And the fun came in trying to make sure that he had no reason to find fault with her response. Id bed become a personal, silent challenge between the two of them, with the rest of the class as the unwitting, and often unaware audience. And it made Potions the most exciting class on her schedule.
And, it was fun to see the flash in Snape’s eyes when he was unable to humiliate her, or take points away from Gryffindor. Over the years, it had become almost a game to judge his reaction as she answered. Sometimes there was even the merest hint of a smile on his face. But not often. Of course, it wasn’t quite as much fun when he looked down at her, black malice in his eyes, and a sneer on his lips, and pronounced, “No, Miss Granger. That is not correct. Fifteen points from Gryffindor.” That always left her flushed and prickly feeling, like she had failed.
Ah well, no time to dwell on classroom interactions – she had already been given a few assignments to start on. And, she smiled, she had to read ahead in Potions, in an attempt to anticipate what Snape might try to stump her with next.
*****
Damn. These summer breaks were too short, and the students came back to school too quickly. Maybe if he got some students that weren’t so pathologically incompetent, it wouldn’t be so bad. But how the hell did Longbottom ever pass his O.W.L in Potions? Surely he didn’t get help from Granger then, too.
Ah yes. Miss Granger. Now that was sort of an entertaining situation. Sure, she was intelligent, but she didn’t know as much as she thought she knew, and it was fun tossing out questions that she would be compelled to attempt to answer.
He shook his head; he wasn’t sure if it was more gratifying to watch her put together a concise and accurate answer, or to take points from Gryffindor when she failed. A brief smile passed his lips; at least she would make one of the classes more interesting – not that he would ever tell her that, of course.
He turned back to the pile of mail that had accumulated on his desk. The latest Ars Alchemia, as well as a few articles he was reviewing for the journal sat on the top of the pile, drawing his attention. It was only several hours later, after he had completed a thorough and scathing review of an article describing a poorly-designed, poorly executed, and poorly-written experiment that he turned back to the rest of his mail.
In the stack was a small package. He looked at it curiously, but when he didn’t recognize the return address, he decided to leave it until tomorrow. Running his hand through his already disheveled hair, he decided to give up on work for the evening. It was time for some scotch, a little light reading and a contemplation the use of potions in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream…
****
The package sat, unopened on his desk for 3 days. Only with the start of the weekend did he have a chance to consider what the package was. It looked and felt like a book. Despite his disregard for ‘wand-waving’, a good Disarming charm was most helpful for packages of unknown origin. Completing the charm, he opened the package, and was a little mystified. It was a small bound book of blank pages.
Well, mostly blank pages. The first page had writing on it:
First day of classes. I love the start of a new term – fresh quills, fresh parchment, all the possibilities. The faculty always seem excited about a new term as well, like it’s a fresh beginning for them too. Well, all except Snape….
His eyes narrowed as he read through the short passage. Was this someone’s idea of a joke? On the other hand, he thought, as the corners of his mouth turned up briefly, whoever it was knew enough to guess that yes, these students were interrupting his real research. But ‘personality flaws’ – that was uncalled for. Just because he didn’t wear fuzzy bunny slippers under his robes, or smile hazily, like some of oth other instructors didn’t mean that he had ‘personality flaws.’ Ah well. He’d been accused of a lot worse.
Still, who actually claimed that Potions was their favorite class? No one that he could think of. He’d tried hard to make it that way. Fear had always been an effective method of classroom control.
Flipping through the pages, he saw no other writing. It looked like a diary of some sort. The handwriting looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Seeing no reason as to why this would have been sent to him, Snape tossed it back on the pile on his desk and began to grade assignments.
****
It was Friday evening, and the Common Room was mostly quiet; most students assumed that since it was only the first week of the new term, there was no reason to start studying quite yet, and that there were more interesting ways to spend one’s time back at school. Hermione spread her books out on the table, and picked up her diary.
I am convinced that Snape is asking these questions on purpose. He’ll sort of look around the room, and then he looks directly at me, before asking one of his ‘zingers’. I think I am going to start keeping score in Potions class – and see who wins more ‘points’ – one point to me if I get the answer right, and one to him if I don’t. At least it will make things interesting….
Funny, though. Harry seems to be the only one who notices that Snape makes a point of asking a question to the class that is really directed at me.
Hermione reflected on the discussion she had with Ron and Harry after their Potions class earlier in the day.
“Herm – what’s going on with Snape? He keeps asking these questions that no one else in class can answer. Well, no one but you. He seems to be directing these things at you, while the rest of us just stare at him blankly.”
Before Hermione could say anything, Ron had thrown out his own opinion, “I think that he’s just looking for way to take points away Gry Gryffindor – I betcha he’s told the Slytherins to not even answer his hard questions, hoping that one of us will try to answer.”
Harry had nodded. “Yeah. You notice that he doesn’t ever award Gryffindor points when you get it right, Herm, he just takes them away when you get them wrong. Maybe if you just didn’t answer…” his voice trailed away thoughtfully as Ron nodded his head vigorously.
“That wouldn’t work, you guys. I mean, then he’d just call on someone – probably Neville – and take the points away anyway. At least if I answer, we’ve got half a chance. Usually.”
“C’mon Hermione. He’s asking you questions that I bet some of the Potions Specialists at the Ministry of Magic can’t even answer. Snape just likes to watch us squirm.” Harry had then shook his head in dismay at Snape’s behavior.
“I agree. He does like to watch us sweat. Which is why I’ve got to go to the library, and get started reading next week’s lesson, so that I can try to figure out what he might try to ask in the next class.” Picking up her books, she had headed to the library to get a little reading done before dinner. Harry had smiled after her as he and Ron headed out to get changed for a little pick-up Quiddich game.
Sighing, Hermione turned back to the books on the table in front of her; she wanted to get ahead in her assignments so that she could start designing a plan for studying for N.EW.T.s. Unlike Harry and Ron, she wanted to start preparing long in advance, so that she didn’t have to subject herself to any last-minute cramming. However, a quick look at the Arithmancy assignment told her that she was going to have to head to the library before she could get any further on that one. Setting that book aside, she dug out the Ancient Runes text, and buried herself in it.
****
“What the hell is it with those third year students,” Snape wondered as he finished grading the last few assignments. These kids barely knew enough to keep from setting themselves – or the classroom – on fire as it was, and from the first week’s assignments, it looked like they had forgotten everything that had been painstakingly drilled into them in the past two years.
Gathering up the papers, his eye glanced back on the book that had been mailed to him. He shook his head, wondering if there were more to this book than first met his eye. He picked it up and carried it out of his study, and into his living quarters.
****
“C’mon, Herm… It’s not healthy to spend so much time in the library. You’ll turn all pasty, and greasy looking, like —“ Ron was summarily cut off by a swift jab from Harry’s elbow, as Professor Snape stormed by them, heading directly for the library.
“You’ll end up looking like him if you’re in there too much,” Ron finished, a little more quietly.
“Yeah. C’mon – the nice weather isn’t going to last – you know how it gets here; another week or two, and it is going to be pouring rain, and it’s going to be grey and gloomy all the time. Besides, if you come visit Hagrid with us now, you’ll be able to go to the library later,” Harry reasoned.
“Alright. I guess I can go for a little bit. It’s just this is the final year, and I don’t want to get behind in anything. There’ll be so much to do to prepare for the N.E.W.T.s in the spring. Let me just run up and drop off my books.” Hermione gave the password (‘simpletons’) and dashed through the portrait.
Ron watched her go, shaking head.ead. “’She’ll get behind’. Geeze. Her idea of getting behind in her classes is only being 3 days ahead, rather than a week!” Harry grinned with him.
“You realize, Ron, that we have a responsibility to her.”
“We do?” Ron looked at his best friend, confused.
“Sure. Just like she feels that she’s got to make sure that we’re on top of our school work, we’ve got to make sure that she doesn’t get too, um, intense. It’s not good for the brain cells to be worked this hard at such a young age. I mean, she might have turned 18 already, but I don’t think that the brain is really meant to be worked that hard until you’re older. Look at Percy. He worked his brain too hard, and now look at him.”
“Yeah. He’s a total git…. You’re right. We’ve got to save her from herself. Or she’ll end up like Snape: old, bitter, living in a dungeon…” Ron’s though trailed off as Hermione came back into the hallway.
“Alright. Let’s go. What are we waiting for?” Hermione took off, and Ron and Harry shook their heads, smiling, before hurrying off to catch her.
*********
The Diary
by Lizski
gretaski@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: Not my people, not making money, yada, yada, yada.
*********
First day of classes. I love the start of a new term – fresh quills, fresh parchment, all the possibilities. The faculty always seem excited about a new term as well, like it’s a fresh beginning for them too. Well, all except Snape. The minute we walked into the classroom, he gave us all a look like we were interrupting his real work. But, who knows. Maybe we are. But why is he teaching then, and not just doing research? Still, he’s a fantastic teacher, despite his, well, his personality flaws, and I am determined to get as much of of this class as possible.
I wonder if Potions would still be my favorite class if we had a nicer, but less competent instructor? Hmmm…
Hermione lay down her quill, and pondered for a moment. It was funny how thoughts that were lurking in the recesses of her brain seemed to vocalize themselves with her quill. It was true – despite Snape’s serious personality deficit, it was her favorite class. The other classes were good, but nothing really brought out the challenge of testing her intellect like Potions did. Defense Against the Dark Arts – well, that depended so much on who was teaching it, and the instructor this year didn’t seem likely to last any longer – or be more effective – than any of the others had been. Arithmancy was work – a lot of work, and a fascinating subject, but the challenge of testing herself against the instructor just wasn’t there.
Smiling to herself, she had to admit that she liked the silent challenges that occurred between herself and the Potions master. After 6 years of classes, she could tell when he was asking a question that was directed at her, in the hopes that she would provide an inaccurate or incomplete answer, allowing him to sneer, and remove house points as a matter of course. And the fun came in trying to make sure that he had no reason to find fault with her response. Id bed become a personal, silent challenge between the two of them, with the rest of the class as the unwitting, and often unaware audience. And it made Potions the most exciting class on her schedule.
And, it was fun to see the flash in Snape’s eyes when he was unable to humiliate her, or take points away from Gryffindor. Over the years, it had become almost a game to judge his reaction as she answered. Sometimes there was even the merest hint of a smile on his face. But not often. Of course, it wasn’t quite as much fun when he looked down at her, black malice in his eyes, and a sneer on his lips, and pronounced, “No, Miss Granger. That is not correct. Fifteen points from Gryffindor.” That always left her flushed and prickly feeling, like she had failed.
Ah well, no time to dwell on classroom interactions – she had already been given a few assignments to start on. And, she smiled, she had to read ahead in Potions, in an attempt to anticipate what Snape might try to stump her with next.
*****
Damn. These summer breaks were too short, and the students came back to school too quickly. Maybe if he got some students that weren’t so pathologically incompetent, it wouldn’t be so bad. But how the hell did Longbottom ever pass his O.W.L in Potions? Surely he didn’t get help from Granger then, too.
Ah yes. Miss Granger. Now that was sort of an entertaining situation. Sure, she was intelligent, but she didn’t know as much as she thought she knew, and it was fun tossing out questions that she would be compelled to attempt to answer.
He shook his head; he wasn’t sure if it was more gratifying to watch her put together a concise and accurate answer, or to take points from Gryffindor when she failed. A brief smile passed his lips; at least she would make one of the classes more interesting – not that he would ever tell her that, of course.
He turned back to the pile of mail that had accumulated on his desk. The latest Ars Alchemia, as well as a few articles he was reviewing for the journal sat on the top of the pile, drawing his attention. It was only several hours later, after he had completed a thorough and scathing review of an article describing a poorly-designed, poorly executed, and poorly-written experiment that he turned back to the rest of his mail.
In the stack was a small package. He looked at it curiously, but when he didn’t recognize the return address, he decided to leave it until tomorrow. Running his hand through his already disheveled hair, he decided to give up on work for the evening. It was time for some scotch, a little light reading and a contemplation the use of potions in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream…
****
The package sat, unopened on his desk for 3 days. Only with the start of the weekend did he have a chance to consider what the package was. It looked and felt like a book. Despite his disregard for ‘wand-waving’, a good Disarming charm was most helpful for packages of unknown origin. Completing the charm, he opened the package, and was a little mystified. It was a small bound book of blank pages.
Well, mostly blank pages. The first page had writing on it:
First day of classes. I love the start of a new term – fresh quills, fresh parchment, all the possibilities. The faculty always seem excited about a new term as well, like it’s a fresh beginning for them too. Well, all except Snape….
His eyes narrowed as he read through the short passage. Was this someone’s idea of a joke? On the other hand, he thought, as the corners of his mouth turned up briefly, whoever it was knew enough to guess that yes, these students were interrupting his real research. But ‘personality flaws’ – that was uncalled for. Just because he didn’t wear fuzzy bunny slippers under his robes, or smile hazily, like some of oth other instructors didn’t mean that he had ‘personality flaws.’ Ah well. He’d been accused of a lot worse.
Still, who actually claimed that Potions was their favorite class? No one that he could think of. He’d tried hard to make it that way. Fear had always been an effective method of classroom control.
Flipping through the pages, he saw no other writing. It looked like a diary of some sort. The handwriting looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Seeing no reason as to why this would have been sent to him, Snape tossed it back on the pile on his desk and began to grade assignments.
****
It was Friday evening, and the Common Room was mostly quiet; most students assumed that since it was only the first week of the new term, there was no reason to start studying quite yet, and that there were more interesting ways to spend one’s time back at school. Hermione spread her books out on the table, and picked up her diary.
I am convinced that Snape is asking these questions on purpose. He’ll sort of look around the room, and then he looks directly at me, before asking one of his ‘zingers’. I think I am going to start keeping score in Potions class – and see who wins more ‘points’ – one point to me if I get the answer right, and one to him if I don’t. At least it will make things interesting….
Funny, though. Harry seems to be the only one who notices that Snape makes a point of asking a question to the class that is really directed at me.
Hermione reflected on the discussion she had with Ron and Harry after their Potions class earlier in the day.
“Herm – what’s going on with Snape? He keeps asking these questions that no one else in class can answer. Well, no one but you. He seems to be directing these things at you, while the rest of us just stare at him blankly.”
Before Hermione could say anything, Ron had thrown out his own opinion, “I think that he’s just looking for way to take points away Gry Gryffindor – I betcha he’s told the Slytherins to not even answer his hard questions, hoping that one of us will try to answer.”
Harry had nodded. “Yeah. You notice that he doesn’t ever award Gryffindor points when you get it right, Herm, he just takes them away when you get them wrong. Maybe if you just didn’t answer…” his voice trailed away thoughtfully as Ron nodded his head vigorously.
“That wouldn’t work, you guys. I mean, then he’d just call on someone – probably Neville – and take the points away anyway. At least if I answer, we’ve got half a chance. Usually.”
“C’mon Hermione. He’s asking you questions that I bet some of the Potions Specialists at the Ministry of Magic can’t even answer. Snape just likes to watch us squirm.” Harry had then shook his head in dismay at Snape’s behavior.
“I agree. He does like to watch us sweat. Which is why I’ve got to go to the library, and get started reading next week’s lesson, so that I can try to figure out what he might try to ask in the next class.” Picking up her books, she had headed to the library to get a little reading done before dinner. Harry had smiled after her as he and Ron headed out to get changed for a little pick-up Quiddich game.
Sighing, Hermione turned back to the books on the table in front of her; she wanted to get ahead in her assignments so that she could start designing a plan for studying for N.EW.T.s. Unlike Harry and Ron, she wanted to start preparing long in advance, so that she didn’t have to subject herself to any last-minute cramming. However, a quick look at the Arithmancy assignment told her that she was going to have to head to the library before she could get any further on that one. Setting that book aside, she dug out the Ancient Runes text, and buried herself in it.
****
“What the hell is it with those third year students,” Snape wondered as he finished grading the last few assignments. These kids barely knew enough to keep from setting themselves – or the classroom – on fire as it was, and from the first week’s assignments, it looked like they had forgotten everything that had been painstakingly drilled into them in the past two years.
Gathering up the papers, his eye glanced back on the book that had been mailed to him. He shook his head, wondering if there were more to this book than first met his eye. He picked it up and carried it out of his study, and into his living quarters.
****
“C’mon, Herm… It’s not healthy to spend so much time in the library. You’ll turn all pasty, and greasy looking, like —“ Ron was summarily cut off by a swift jab from Harry’s elbow, as Professor Snape stormed by them, heading directly for the library.
“You’ll end up looking like him if you’re in there too much,” Ron finished, a little more quietly.
“Yeah. C’mon – the nice weather isn’t going to last – you know how it gets here; another week or two, and it is going to be pouring rain, and it’s going to be grey and gloomy all the time. Besides, if you come visit Hagrid with us now, you’ll be able to go to the library later,” Harry reasoned.
“Alright. I guess I can go for a little bit. It’s just this is the final year, and I don’t want to get behind in anything. There’ll be so much to do to prepare for the N.E.W.T.s in the spring. Let me just run up and drop off my books.” Hermione gave the password (‘simpletons’) and dashed through the portrait.
Ron watched her go, shaking head.ead. “’She’ll get behind’. Geeze. Her idea of getting behind in her classes is only being 3 days ahead, rather than a week!” Harry grinned with him.
“You realize, Ron, that we have a responsibility to her.”
“We do?” Ron looked at his best friend, confused.
“Sure. Just like she feels that she’s got to make sure that we’re on top of our school work, we’ve got to make sure that she doesn’t get too, um, intense. It’s not good for the brain cells to be worked this hard at such a young age. I mean, she might have turned 18 already, but I don’t think that the brain is really meant to be worked that hard until you’re older. Look at Percy. He worked his brain too hard, and now look at him.”
“Yeah. He’s a total git…. You’re right. We’ve got to save her from herself. Or she’ll end up like Snape: old, bitter, living in a dungeon…” Ron’s though trailed off as Hermione came back into the hallway.
“Alright. Let’s go. What are we waiting for?” Hermione took off, and Ron and Harry shook their heads, smiling, before hurrying off to catch her.