Of Slytherin Descent (Snape/reader)

Ch. 8: Beneath My Crooked Nose (1)

A/N:  things start to get a lil snazzy here;)

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Snape's POV:

I've always preferred my own company, my own mind to occupy myself with.  I was never sure if it was by choice, or if I'd grown a distaste for those around me for making me an outcast.  Nevertheless, I spent my time primarily alone.  I found myself mostly in the dungeons, my office, the office of Miverva or Dumbledore.....or the library.
There was the books, the silence filled with only the sounds of pages being flipped and quills scribbling on parchment, the pristine environment, the peace it brought me.
It was always my safe place, when my mind was too dark to hide in, I hid in books. Books where people were happy, where things always worked out. I hid behind the pages, shriveling under the inked words. What I hid from? Perhaps myself, perhaps my fears, perhaps -in the past
- those who called me Snivellus.
Whatever it was, the library was my abode from my life.

And now it was being invaded by her.

Her robes always dragged around the corners, around the shelves. The silence was replaced; Her voice rang, her laughs echoed ever so slightly. Just enough to be heard.
I tried so hard to push her out of my mind, she was asinine to me.
And yet, all I could feel was her presence in my safe space. I could imagine her finger prints in the book, slightly warm from her touch, and leaving her aura behind with them. Every time I saw the stained glass windows, I saw the color of her eyes, the same eyes that I'd last seen when she rushed out of the dungeons.
The smell of books was now mixed with her perfume. She was everywhere, in all my senses.

Her presence was like a needle in the back of my mind, not making a difference, but wrecking my thoughts ever so often without even moving. I could no longer hide behind the same pages that were littered with her finger prints, her being, her.

It was only fuel to my temper, my frustrations. I knew I was overreacting, that I should have just forgotten about it, but something was irking me about it. I began to loathe this irk, this deep part of myself pulling at me.

Even when I had gone to Minerva's office for a chat, she had spoken of L/N. Minnie (Minerva) told me to give the girl a chance, to talk to her. That perhaps we weren't so different....

The cursed woman had managed to even bombard my personal life without meaning to, I had had enough of it.

I'd had enough of this nonsense, taking up space in my own mind, from which I could no longer escape. I've had enough of her. An end had to be put to this, one way or another.

My eyes searched anywhere and everywhere, trying to distract myself.  Perhaps the walls I've looked at for years, or the scenery outside the stained glass windows that I've walked through a thousand times...but when I looked up in desperation, my eyes were only met with L/N.

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Your POV:

I was making my rounds around the library after I had finished up with teaching my classes, I helped Irma here and there. She really didn't need help, but we seemed to value each others quiet company.

I made my way over to the last shelf to restock it, when a very angry looking Snape made his way into my view. His eyebrows were furrowed, and the tips of his fingers whitened on the book he seemed to be gripping as if to kill it.  He hasn't noticed me yet, or at least isn't acknowledging me.

I had hoped to forget about him, but it seems so often that I find him lurking around in the library, though he refuses to spare me a glance. Sometimes I wonder why he is the way that he is, it's not often you find someone so....like him. I've never met anyone like him before.

"You know, I've never had someone read so much," Irma whispers, gesturing to Snape,"he seems to fancy potions and the dark arts. He's always got a book on him, I've never seen him without one."

"So he's a bookworm?" I ask with amusement, peaking around the shelf at him sitting with a book in his lap.  We make brief eye contact before he tears his eyes away with a scowl.

"Something like that, despite his cold demeanor, he's quite brilliant-minded," she says this with a small smile playing at her lips.

"And yet he can't get along with people?"

Irma scoffed playfully, chuckling at my remark,"Perhaps you're too hard on the both of you." 

I think about her words as they whittle themselves into my mind, making me think momentarily.  I make no effort to reply, as I wasn't sure how to.

Irma leans in to whisper,"You know, there's only a week until the Yule Ball," she says with a wink.

"Given the way you talk about him, maybe you should ask the notorious book-bat," I jest, giving her a friendly nudge.

She rolled her eyes,"I don't fancy myself a passion project to work on, it seems difficult to get close to him as he is."

I was tempted to ask about him: why he comes here to the library; what's his history at Hogwarts; why he teaches potions; and things of the sort. However, I suppose it's really none of my concern and I don't want to cause Irma to make assumptions, so I keep my lips closed.

"We should take Minnie and go to Hogsmeade for dress robes," I say in a desperate attempt to move the conversation elsewhere.

Irma's eyes twinkle and a mischievous smirk makes way on her distinct features,"Trying to impress someone?"

I laugh at both her enthusiasm and implication, swatting a hand playfully at her antics.

"I just don't want to waste my first Yule Ball.  I want to make it memorable."

Memorable...my being is only essentially etched into the minds of other people, I keep changing identities over the years so no one gets suspicious of how long I've lived.  Though, it's rather...heartbreaking to come to terms with the fact that I'm only gonna ever be a memory.

I was pulled out of my thoughts as Irma looked at me with surprise etched in her features,"You've never been to a Yule Ball? Didn't you attend Hogwarts?"  She put down the book she was holding and turned fully toward me, her lips slightly parting as if another question was sitting on her tongue.

Irma did indeed have a good reason to be surprised, the Yule Ball was attended by all students typically. However, I never really went during my years.  It's been nearly two centuries, but I can imagine I never got asked, or simply wasn't interested in the overwhelming crowd; perhaps both.  Not that I was unattractive, but I was rather anti-social.

"Well, we will just have to make your first time special," she says with a broad grin,"we can go to Hogsmeade this evening and find you a gown."

I can't help but to smile at her enthusiasm, it's beginning to make me actually excited for this year's ball....