Chapter Text
The school year was in full swing, much to Severus's dislike. His double life was beginning to take its toll on his body, he felt old. Although he was, by wizarding standards, still in his prime. Severus was not a vain man. However his face was weathered into a near-constant frown, his hair was streaked with silver and his knees felt like those of an arthritic 90 year old. He was sure that The Dark Lord and the Old Fool who both called themselves his Master would see to the end of Severus Snape before he reached his 50th birthday. The life of a double spy was not exactly lavish. The late night meetings and constant occlusion of his mind, was wreaking havoc with his systems and ruining his sleeping pattern.
His role as a teacher, despite it being a front, was the job he considered the hardest. The task of trying to install enough knowledge into his startlingly vacant students so that they might pass their exams was an unprecedented challenge. The general level of idiocy was astounding.
His current post as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was no easier than his previous occupation of Potions Master. With the threat of war ever present, Dumbledore had amended the curriculum and had Severus teach dueling spells. Severus had argued, questioning whether the Headmaster was trying to raise an army of children, but had been ignored. He had even gone so far as to write his own syllabus, but Albus had declined, stating that it would be "for the best" that the students learn how to defend themselves.
Thus, Severus was spending his Thursday afternoon teaching his brainless 6th years non-verbal magic. Clearly they did not possess the level of concentration required to practice such highly skilled magic as none of them had managed to achieve the simple task he had set. They were to levitate a piece of parchment from their own desks onto the Professor's desk, without uttering a word. It was obvious that some of the half-wits had misunderstood even the simplest of commands: silence. How he was expected to teach such precise magic to a bunch of dunderheads was really beyond him. Of course, it would reflect poorly on him if, by the time the students had reached their NEWT's, they couldn't cast non-verbal spells.
Not to mention the obvious lack of threat the little idiots would possess if they ever were caught in a duel. Non-verbal spells had won Severus enough duels to know their value. If his students did face battle (the odds of that happening were rising daily), then it would give them an advance over their opponents that might just save their lives.
Again, Severus was forced to bust his arse for the good of his students. He wasn't getting any younger as he sat there with a face like thunder, obviously battling to contain his internal rage. A folded piece of ivory parchment fluttered down onto his desk. Casting his eyes around the room, Snape nearly growled when he had realized that the parchment had come from Miss Granger.
Naturally. Severus thought, biting his tongue to prevent him from actually saying something out loud. The young girl was excellent, he couldn't deny that. It irked him to no end that she appeared to have an undying need to show off her knowledge in the most annoying way possible. She was a know-it-all who clearly didn't know when her opinions and questions weren't wanted.
Worst of all, she appeared to be best friends with Potter, the-boy-seemed-to-get-away-with-everything. Alongside the youngest of the Weasley pack, Potter and Granger were shown unyielding favoritism by Dumbledore and McGonagall. It irritated Snape to no end seeing the Potter boy swan around the castle like he owned the place much like his father had done during his school days. Severus glared at the boy in question, who was making a futile attempt to disguise his mumblings. The parchment on the desk in front of Potter only twitched.
A quick glance at Miss Granger told him that she was quite proud of herself. He brown eyes look almost amber as her face lit up in a smile. Severus could detect a hint of smugness as she looked around the room to check up on her peers. The rest of the class continued to wave their wands foolishly to no avail.
The parchment was folded into four, and otherwise looked rather ordinary, except Severus had grounds for his rising suspicions. Miss Granger was a confounded copy cat. Her ability to regurgitate a textbook was often praised by his colleagues, but Severus despised it. He found her ability to interpret and apply her knowledge seriously lacking. She was not the type to go against the rules and experiment, something Severus had been doing since his youth. No, Miss Granger was an avid rule-follower. Nowhere in his instructions had Severus directed that they should fold the parchment.
Having let curiosity get the better of him, he unfolded the parchment;
Professor Snape,
I get the feeling that you and I are more alike than we both care to admit. I suspect we both look around the room and question our sanity on numerous occasions. If I have learnt one thing at school, I have discovered that I don't aspire to be a professor.
While we both gaze at the stone walls in boredom, perhaps I can entertain your brilliant mind for even a second. Is suffering necessary for existence? Could anyone be truly happy without suffering or would we be too unaware of loss to truly enjoy ourselves?
These are the questions that keep me awake at night.
Yours sympathetically,
HG.
Severus read the letter twice, before screwing it up and aiming it at the bin. The sheer audacity of the little witch! She truly was a bold busy-body, assuming she had an incline into his life. Nay! His mind. Severus leaned back in his chair and caught Miss Granger's eye, communicating to her that he would not entertain such philosophical insanity in his classroom. She blushed at his stare, and dropped his gaze to stare intently at her open textbook. Severus couldn't fight the smirk that over-took his face, when he realized that she felt suitably embarrassed.
If there was one thing he enjoyed about his position, it was the humiliation he could cause.