And You Thought That Diricawls Were Extinct

Severus Snape thinks that I have fabulous tits, was my first thought. My second was, I’ve got a dead man inside of me? Both thoughts were wrong on so many levels.

“Surely you’d rather your knockers were found attractive than otherwise?” queried George innocently.

McGonagall bristled to my maidenly defense. “He’s her horrid ex-professor! It would be best for her health and happiness if he had turned out to be entirely asexual.”

“But he’s not,” was George’s abrupt reply.

“And he’s right inside you, Hermione,” said Fred in a tone of voice that left no room for innocent misinterpretation of his meaning.

“And your shower, young lady!” scolded McGonagall.

“Miss Granger?” Snape sounded tentative. “Are you still there?”

I cleared my throat. “Of course. I’m just a bit shocked.” I twisted off the taps and grabbed a towel. “You wouldn’t happen to know how this came about, would you, sir?”

“I have some idea,” he said as I towelled off, adopting his professorial tone. “Miss Granger, what would you do if faced with imminent death, with the clear knowledge that your life had been an utter disaster?”

“Hmmm, I’m not sure,” I hummed, rifling through my top drawer. “It’s not a matter I’ve given a lot of thought to.”

“The pink lace,” said Snape. “I, on the other hand, gave it a great deal of thought. I doubt this needs saying, but I felt royally cheated. I decided that it was only fair for me to get a second chance.”

“Did he just casually instruct you on which undergarments to wear?” McGonagall shrieked, while I stood there, frozen in horrified mortification.

Fred was smug. “You may as well give him that—”

“—you know you love it when people appreciate what you do—”

“—and it’s not as though anyone else is seeing your knickers.”

I shook my head firmly and grabbed the patterned purple.

“Well?” I asked brusquely, snapping clothes on as quickly as possible. “What did you do?”

“There’s no need to sound so accusatory,” Snape bristled. “You can be certain, Miss Granger, that my idea of a second chance at life did not consist of being stuck with an immature, irritating swot of a girl, with no real autonomy.”

I knew I shouldn’t have let it, but his comment really stung. “Then you must have really bollocksed up whatever brilliant plan you managed to concoct!” I retorted.

“Such clarity of perception!” he cried. “Could it be the voice of experience that speaks?”

“Berk,” I said. I couldn’t swear at Professor Snape, but I infused that word with all the venom I possessed.

“Don’t listen to him, Hermione,” said George. “He doesn’t know a thing about you or your life.”

“Besides,” said McGonagall, “it’s only his own insecurity that drives him to attack you in this manner.”

Professor Snape? Insecure?

I’d finished dressing, and either one of us was fuming, or both of us were. It was hugely confusing, being aware of both of our feelings. I sat down heavily on the edge of my bed.

“Alright, sir,” I said in a calmer tone, “what happened?”

Silence. Surly silence.

“Sir, if you tell me, we may be able to work toward a solution together. I know this situation is distasteful to you.”

Snape continued as though he hadn’t been sidetracked. “Ahem. I discovered a belief held by Muggles that I considered worth pursuing. They call it reincarnation.”

Good Lord. Severus Snape had tried to reincarnate himself?

“I’ve always held to the belief that one should play to one’s strengths, so I set about designing a potion for this. Unfortunately, there was no way to test it, for obvious reasons; hence our present difficulty.”

“Oh. I see. It didn’t really turn out like reincarnation, did it?” I mused.

My teeth were gritted against each other. “I believe that my attempt has already been labelled a monumental failure,” he said. “Shall we move on?”

“Sorry,” I said, embarrassed. I knew I could be tactless when I got to thinking on a puzzle.

“No need to be embarrassed, girl,” instructed McGonagall. “Severus Snape doesn’t know the meaning of tact.”

I was a bit irritated at that. Who had neglected to teach him?

“You’d best tell me exactly how this potion was designed,” I said. “Perhaps we can work out a way to counteract its effects.”

Anxiety grabbed hold of me. “I don’t suppose you could get a hold of my body?” Snape sneered.

“Oh! I…” I hadn’t thought of that. “Sir… I’m afraid… it’s been more than two years.”

“Since you managed to do anything useful?” he said mockingly, but my fists clenched slightly, and my heart picked up speed, and somehow, knowing that Severus Snape was afraid forced me to see, at long last, that he was only human. It was the element that had been missing all those years, though I could see in retrospect that I’d witnessed his fear before. I’d seen him panicky over Lupin, though at fourteen I still didn’t expect adults to be just as frightened as we could be, and saw only his anger. In sixth year, when he’d come hurtling out of that classroom, ordering Luna and myself to look to Flitwick, he’d been shaking. I’d not thought to attribute it to fear. Even at his end, desperately trying to convince Voldemort not to kill him… well, I hadn’t had time to spare a thought for what Snape was feeling. And yet, his fear of death must have been tremendous, for him to go to the extent of creating a potion of previously unheard-of capabilities, and to use it on himself without previous testing.

Not only was he human, then, but he was also incredibly brave. He’d faced the threat of death every day, despite his terror. A bloom of admiration burst open within me.

“If you are as utterly useless as I ought to have expected,” said Snape, interrupting my thoughts, “then I suggest you get used to having me around.”

“Hermione?” George popped in. “Respect him if you must, but he’s still—”

“—an absolute prick.”

I had to agree. “Sir, if you have any good ideas, I’d be delighted to hear them. If not, please keep your silence while I think.” With that, I allowed my head to fall back on the mattress and closed my eyes.

“…Are you thinking?” Snape asked timidly after about fifteen minutes. I smiled. “You haven’t fallen asleep, have you?” I’d never have expected a Snape out of his depth to be so adorable.

“You don’t mean that, Hermione!” exclaimed Fred. George made a gagging noise.

“Of course not that way,” replied McGonagall. “Even if he weren’t ugly, lacking in hygiene, temperamental, argumentative, domineering, and all round disagreeable, he’s much too old for her.”

“Yeah, well, even if she did start thinking crazy things—”

“—he hasn’t got a body.”

“So she’d be better off asking Lovegood for a spare corpse,” concluded Fred.

My eyes flew open as I sat up with a jolt, startling Snape.

“Professor? We’re going to pay someone a visit.”