Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Triptych	By : SabineLaGrande Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 3500 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- 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.

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The Undertaking

Of course I thought she was pretty. There were few
who could truthfully say they didn't. And of course she was one of the best
students I'd ever had. But I couldn't love her.

First of all, she was my student. As pretty and
smart as she was, she wasn't worth my job. I had to be at Hogwarts. I had to be
useful to the master I'd betrayed. I had to be there, and be detached, or my
life would have been worth nothing.

Secondly, she was almost twenty years my junior. It
was against every applicable law I could name. It was absurd. When she kissed
me before the Leaving Feast - oh no, don't think I've forgotten- I must confess
that somewhere within me there was some spark of hopefulness. But it really was
absurd.

Thirdly, I couldn't love her because she looked
just like Calliope - beautiful, radiant Calliope, Calliope who I loved more
than my own life, innocent Calliope, Calliope who was dead because of me. It
was easy to ignore the resemblance for a long time, but then there was the Yule
Ball. When I saw her there, completely transformed, the world swirled into
blackness and there was nothing but Calliope, every strand of her hair the
color of burnished brass exactly as it had been years before.

Calliope was more beautiful than the summer stars,
softer than the spring rain, as pure as the driven snow. We met at Hogwarts.
She was a Ravenclaw; I was the beleaguered Slytherin outcast. By sixth year, my misguided loyalty to
the Dark Lord had already been sealed. Then she walked up to me at the
beginning of seventh year Potions and sat at the cauldron next to mine. I would
give anything for that moment to have never happened.

Naturally, I loved her. She was the first person to
show me any real kindness. And she loved me. Her touch soothed me beyond anything.
Her kisses were intoxicating. When we made love, it was as if nothing else in
the world had ever, would ever, or could ever exist. Nothing could ever be
except me inside of her, and our rhythm, and my hands in her long hair, and the
way she softly moaned my name.

But we were cursed from the start. We were
fundamentally different. I tried to talk to her about the Dark Lord and his
plan. She would have none of it. She merely touched my lips to stop me and
would hear no more. For every bit of evil in me, she was good. For every speck
of my cowardice, she had courage. So it could never last.

And so He killed her. Killed her because she was
innocent and pure; more importantly, He killed her because I loved her more
than I could ever love Him. In hindsight, it was the worst and most costly
mistake He ever made, the one that most directly lead to His undoing. In
alienating me, He gave His enemies the most powerful tool they could ever have,
a disgruntled member of His inner sanctum. I swore at her funeral that I would
live to see Him defeated.

After her death, I became an ascetic. It's not
particularly hard when you live at a boarding school and are most decidedly not
a pedophile. I merely turned off the part of me that had loved her, and in
doing so, most of my emotions. My love was replaced with hatred, my compassion
with spite. I was afraid to love again. I couldn't take another loss like her.

But then, Granger showed up at that damn ball. And
of course, since it was dangerous, illegal, and disloyal to Calliope and my
beliefs, I fell in love with her. I loved her for every reason that I loved
Calliope and, to my horror, multitudinous reasons that had nothing to do with
her. I loved the fiery spark in her eyes, something Calliope lacked. I caught
myself wondering how she kissed, what she looked like first thing in the
morning, what it would be like to taste her. And I hated myself for it.

It was inevitable that she would take Advanced
Potions. She was, after all, brilliant. And I was a coward, a pitiful, worthless
coward. Afraid to confront my love for her, I lashed out at her. He essays had
to be twice as good as anyone else's (which they always were) to receive the
same grade. I openly criticized her in class when she had done absolutely
nothing wrong. I was despicable and cruel, hoping to turn my love to hate.
After two long years, it almost worked.

But of course, it couldn't be that simple. After
all I'd done to her, she had to go and kiss me. She had to kiss me chastely and
purely. That kiss was an acute stab into my very soul. It took me every last
drop of me to pull away. I was still spying on the Dark Lord. I was a marked
man. I couldn't have her destroyed because of me. I was a dangerous person to
love.

Within a month, the Dark Lord was dead, along with
some of the finest wizards I've ever met, light and dark. I was finally
released of my double life. My vow to Calliope was fulfilled. I could sink
quietly into oblivion- yelling at students, perfecting new potions, and not
caring about the world. The ascetic life suited me, and I could at last have
the quiet marriage to Calliope's memory that I had always wanted.

But I only had 3 short years of peace. Then it
happened. Cornelius Fudge was killed by the last vestiges of the Dark Lord's
supporters. He was a bumbling fool, but he didn't deserve it. He was also a
necessary fool. After his death, people started talking. They started saying
how Dumbledore should be the new Minister of Magic, as he was the best wizard
in an age. A year the rumblings went on. Eventually, Dumbledore was forced to
concede.

When this school year begins, Minerva McGonagall
will be the new Headmistress, Professor Flitwick will
be Deputy Headmaster, and I still won't have Defense Against
the Dark Arts, despite being an expert Occlumens.
That honor will once again rest with Professor Lupin,
who should know all about it, being a Dark creature himself. But I digress.

I have just been informed that Hermione Granger is
on her way here now to take Minerva's position. Now I have to look at her every
day, to speak to her as if nothing had ever occurred, and to go without sleep
every night thinking of her. So much for oblivion.

"And if this love,
though placd so,

From profane men you hide,

Which will no faith on this bestow,

Or, if they do, deride;

Then you have done a braver thing

Than all the Worthies did;

And a braver thence will spring,

Which is, to keep that hid."

-"The Undertaking", John Donne
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Triptych