LadyTuesday – Asteroid Beater

Envy

"More sinners are cursed at not because we despise their sins but because we envy their success at sinning."

~ Thomas Babington Macauley

If Sartre was correct and hell really is other people, then it stood to reason that he must have been a far more loathsome reprobate than anyone credited him, for surely this God-forsaken hospital was one of the lesser known circles of the Inferno. The constant buzz of noise pounded into his brain, and the stares, good God, the stares made him want to scream. As if people hadn't gawked at him enough before the war, each one of these sojourns back to London marinated him in a thousand different reasons why he'd left England. He held back a scoff, but only just. More than half of his life given to the glorious cause of saving Potter's talentless neck, and still the wizarding world refused to allow him to slink away into obscurity with dignity. He'd had his fill of notoriety; now he just wanted a house somewhere quiet where he could enjoy seclusion. It was damn unfair that the greater masses respected the privacy of the Boy Who Lived but wouldn't extend him the same bloody courtesy no matter how many times the fool lauded him as a hero. If he had his way, he'd hole up at a cottage in the middle of a forest somewhere he'd be damn sure he'd never again have to face an obsequious Potter, a never-ending string of Weasleys, or the insufferably sympathetic portrait of a man whose final words would be etched into his psyche even without the help of a pictorial representation. More than that, his chosen hermitage would certainly never feature the bushy-coifed harridan currently attempting to glare holes in his forehead. How dare she try to browbeat him into submission, the arrogant little chit; she had learned that trick from him.

She crossed her slender arms over her chest and leveled what he assumed she meant to be an intimidating gaze in his direction. While hospital administration didn't currently appear to be agreeing with her, life, as it seemed, did. Hermione Granger sat in front of him not as the gawky, skinny-limbed teenager he'd known but as a slim, confident woman in the full flush of young adulthood. Despite the towering scowl that pinched the lineament of her high forehead, her facial features had all "caught up" with each other, balancing out her once too wide eyes and too large teeth into the face of an arresting young witch. Some people might even go so far as to call her attractive, though he'd never admit to being one of them. If she was anyone other than Hermione Granger, he'd have said he was surprised that someone hadn't snapped her up, but with Granger, it wasn't exactly a shock that she was unmarried. Though, on second thought, he supposed that Ronald Weasley, that gormless hair pile, was probably just itching to take her on. Obnoxious though she may be, Granger did possess some little smarts, and a life shackled to that nimrod would be a colossal waste of her talent. Now that was justice for you: Severus existed in a world where a powerful, intelligent wizard such as himself was shunned for lack of attractiveness or inane social graces, but the witless wonder managed to get on with someone of three times his intelligence quotient. Granger had blossomed into a comely witch, and she had decided to favor Weasley with her attentions. The very thought of it left a sour taste in his mouth just on principle. When she sucked on her front teeth in a show of annoyed impatience, he scowled back at her all the more.

"Well?" she said at last. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

"Little that would be acceptable in polite company, I'm sure," he sneered in response.

Granger sighed heavily. "You know, Professor Snape, these little meetings would be a lot more pleasant on both parties if you would just behave yourself. And actually show up for them, of course. Then I wouldn't have to send Aurors to chase after you like hounds at a hunt. As part of your parole agreement..."

"I'm not a common criminal," he snapped. "And I find it interesting that you have no qualms about abusing your connections with the Auror Department to drum up business for yourself."

"...you were assigned the mandated monthly sessions of physical therapy for the rehabilitation of your physical faculties after Nagini's bite," Hermione continued as if he hadn't spoken, "...and the accompanying psychological evaluations to deal with any after effects of the war and your attack."

"I notice that Lucius Malfoy managed to wriggle away without any mandated psychological evaluations to 'deal with the after effects of the war'," Snape practically spat the sentence at her. "He seems to have escaped without even a jail sentence."

Granger exhaled hard through her nostrils as she picked up a quill and made notes on the parchment in front of her. "I can't speak to Mr. Malfoy's punishments or lack thereof. I'm your caseworker, not his."

"And you've done such a bang-up job, too. Lucius sits up there in a comfortable mansion with a beautiful wife, mountains of money, and no more than a slap on his wrists, and I ... why, I get a complete lack of privacy, your moronic cohorts hammering on my door at ungodly hours, and the pleasure of chatting with you about my mental acuity. Well done, Granger."

She tried to keep writing, but her quill nib made dents in the parchment. "You'd have a lot more privacy if you'd just show up to your scheduled appointments instead of making us chase you and drag you back to Britain. I had sympathy for you the first three times we went looking for you. 'What a horrible shame,' I said to myself, 'that this poor man has gone through so much and people won't leave him alone.' I figured I'd make it easy on you, keep the visits quick so that you could get on with your life and only have to bother with us for an hour or two a month. After the six months I spent Apparating to and from Beirut to help the boys find you three years ago...where I was robbed twice, hit with every conceivable jinx, and infected with four cases of diseases I'd rather not discuss...I figure you deserve whatever you get."

Severus smoothly rebutted, "Nice to know someone is on my side."

Hermione opened her lips to retort, but seemed to think better of it. Dropping her gaze back to the parchment in front of her, Hermione slashed words across the blank assessment form she used for each of her clients.

Severus watched as the muscle in her jaw twitched. Unable to resist, he decided to needle her a little further.

"As long as you're taking the time to make unbiased, cogent judgments on my life, why not discuss yours as well? I assume that Mr. Potter is as achingly naïve and tetchy as always?"

Granger whipped her head up so quickly she could have given herself whiplash. The polite expression plastered over Severus's face only multiplied her ire.

"I take it that's a 'yes'. I heard he proposed to Miss Weasley, poor girl. No doubting where the genetic strengths for their brood will come from. Oh, and how is the ever-impressive Ronald? Still trying to pretend that your relationship is built on something more than proximity to Potter, then?"

Hermione's eyes blazed with anger, but her cheeks bore the splotchy redness of embarrassment. Clearly, he'd struck home on a topic or two. Granger stiffened her spine, however, and glared back coolly.

"You know, I think you're jealous."

Severus blinked for a moment before a harsh bark of laughter burst from his lips.

"Jealous of whom? Potter? As ridiculous as that would be, you have to mean Potter because I know that even you are not foolish enough to believe me jealous of Weasley, that bumbling twit."

"You are," Hermione said indignantly. "Ron and Harry have everything you want but can't have: careers they love, respect and admiration in the wizarding world, privacy when they need it, and..." Hermione hesitated, biting her lip over the last part of her sentence. Her cheeks colored more before she finished. "...And women who love them."

Snape snorted through his long nostrils. "Oh, yes, how could I help but be jealous of the fools they make over the peerless specimens of womanhood that could be attracted to those two? I'd rather be buried alive than make such a dunderhead of myself for a woman of that caliber."

That comment snapped Hermione's composure like a dry twig. Slamming her palms down on her desktop, Hermione rocketed out of her chair and leaned so far over her desk that Snape moved away to avoid bumping noses.

"Of course you're the last man to make a fool of himself over a woman, Professor. Still convincing yourself that you hated James Potter because of his Quidditch skills, then?"

The silence that rushed into Hermione's tiny office nearly deafened her.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I..." she started, but trailed off as Snape slowly rose from his chair.

After unfolding himself to his complete and imposing height, he said, "We're done here," in a low hiss and strode towards the exit. No sooner had he opened the door than Harry and Ron poked their heads into the office.

Clearly sensing the tension in the room, Ron strode over to Hermione and immediately laced an arm around her, a hand at her waist. Hermione leaned into him and thrust up her chin as Snape favored her with a scathing glare. He made to stalk out, but Harry blocked the doorway and drew his wand reluctantly.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he said, "but I can't let you leave without supervision. Too many parole violations in the last twelvemonth."

Severus again glared at Granger, who turned very deliberately and stretched to kiss Ron on the cheek. As if the argument had never taken place, she smiled winningly at him and said, "What do you say to a romantic evening alone with me tonight? I'm feeling rather appreciative of my good fortune."

Pleasantly flummoxed, Ron put both arms around her back and drew her closer. "Lucky me," he said with a smile. "I can pick up some fish and chips and a video, and we can have a romantic night in."

Hermione's face fell just a tad, Severus noted with satisfaction; this plan was clearly not on par with what she considered elements of a "romantic night in".

She hesitated a moment before nodding. "Sounds lovely." Despite her usual distaste for public displays, Hermione pulled Ron to her for a kiss and was rewarded with an enthusiastic response and a disgusted huff from Snape's direction. By the time Ron released her with a smile and a promise to return at the end of the work day, Snape and Harry had gone.

Number of Words: 1830

Prompt Words Used: forest, lineament, fish and chips

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