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Strength in What Remains Behind	By : Sandiera Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 13525 -:- 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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Severus

It was strange how something so simple as a look could be so... disturbing. I paced the halls on patrol, frowning in displeasure. The girl had been aroused, I was sure of it. It had been a long time since I had seen a woman in heat, but I knew the look of it.

I was momentarily distracted by the discovery of a pair snogging in an alcove, and had the utmost pleasure in the looks of terror on their face as I made it my business to dampen their enthusiasm. I took another 50 points from Gryffindor, as the girl was one of those red-headed multitudes of Weasley children, though sadly the boy was of my own house and I would under no circumstances remove points from Slytherin. I walked him back to the common room, letting him know in no uncertain terms that he had sorely tempted me to take points from my own house this night, and I didn't appreciate that at all. I was rather certain his father would not be pleased when I informed him of it, either. He paled at the mention of his father, so I think perhaps I had made my point, though it was merely an idle threat. Lucius disgusted me and I had no interest in any sort of conversation with the man.

When I had seen to it that he would not be up to any more mischief that night, I returned to my patrol. Surprising young students in love was one of the very few pleasures I allowed myself, after all. I cursed myself when I found my mind wandering back to the Granger girl. In truth, I was somewhat confused by her reaction this evening. I had certainly never encouraged her in any way. She was the worst sort of intellectual. I detested her kind, always showing off what they can do, always looking up to their betters, their eyes wide as they eagerly sought praise for their efforts. The girl knew she was smart. Wasn't that enough for her?

Every time her brown eyes looked at me with that eager sort of expression, I wanted to lash out at her. She infuriated me with the way she had to always know everything. Whenever I had an opportunity to crush her, I took it. I did not like myself for it, nor for the feeling of glee I had when I saw her spirits falter or her eyes fill with tears, though I could not deny that I felt it. I'd like the girl slightly better if she were more like how she had been the first day of detention; quiet, diligent, detached. She had caught me looking at her, though it didn't matter to me. There had been nothing of that hungry need for approval in her gaze that day, merely wary curiosity. It was relaxing, to be able to reflect on her ability in Potions without feeling the pressing need to strike out at her for the way she acted.

Though, to be honest, even if she had been that sort of student all the time, I would not have liked her. I saw some of myself in her and I hated the mirror as much as the original. It had been hard to hide my distaste for her this evening. It was necessary to do so, though, because to lash out at her for it was to acknowledge that I had seen her feelings for me, and I had no intention of doing that. Let the girl have her silly adolescent fantasies. It was none of my concern. Though if she continued to moon after me, I would of course need to be unduly harsh with her at every possible chance. I allowed myself a small smile at the thought of that.

Unbidden, I thought of Lily. Thoughts of her were always unbidden, and always powerful. It was best that she had not known my heart. I knew best how unworthy I was of any reciprocation. But the girl's arousal this evening must have impacted me more than I thought, for now I was ruminating on what she would have looked like in the same state. I gritted my teeth, turned on my heel, and stalked off to my chambers, my patrol abandoned for the night. I was angry with myself for sullying her memory in that fashion. I didn't know where it had come from; I had lost any interest in carnal pleasures long ago... or so I thought.

I slammed about my chambers as I got ready for bed, hoping to knock into something and hurt myself, looking for something, anything to distract me from this torment. I got into bed still shaken by the idea, by my disrespect for her memory. I had failed her once, and I was failing her again, and I could not stop it. When I finally slept that night, I was haunted by the image of her green eyes.
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Strength in What Remains Behind