Letter 41: Severus Snape to Hermione Granger, 14th December 2000

A/N: For simplicity’s sake, titles of books, journals etc are underlined and emphases are italicised. In reviving the old tradition of epistolary novels, I understand the plot may be a little slow, laborious and difficult to follow. Some might consider it AU and a little OOC.

In order not to weary the reader’s patience, a number of letters from the series of correspondences have been suppressed; those only have been given which appeared necessary to a complete understanding of the events in this group. For the same reason, some letters from the actors in the events of this drama have also been suppressed.

Proestigium or What the Seasons may Bring

Letter 41: Severus Snape to Hermione Granger, 14th December 2000

Severus X. A. Snape

Borgia’s Inn

Diagon Alley,

London

14th December 2000

Miss Granger,

I respectfully request an interview with you. Refer to page III of Philosophical Alchemical Theory. Do you understand me as you claim you do? I will be at Hogsmead this evening from five o’clock. You will have to look for me. If I do not see you by eight o'clock this evening, I shall assume that the issue is at an end. Should you be uncertain where to look, insufferable know-it-all, I suggest you read that which is below to give you a gauge. Dismiss it at your own peril, for you will be the cause of a death if you do so.

Tell Me Something Beautiful

Five hours continual simmering

On high heat set slow pressure cooker

Translating from angel to demon

In laid fresh moss carpet cubicle

Sifting two spectacles worth of books

Labelled ‘antiquity’ leather rebound

Cold and deliberately rare for papers

Needing inspired revisionist theories

To whisper wisdom to me beautiful.

Laboured eyesight strained to dilute fluids

Ought to be stuffed in marrow hollows

Blissfully arcane in ascetic life

Pleasurable in its unmade virtue

Becoming memories of factual dyes

While realising that enough is recalled

To encourage a getting down low

Face first in educational burial

With no truthful nugget beautiful.

In a temporary seclusion tried

Even in library’s stranger lighting

A friendly hand coldly recognised

As one similar to my nature

In perverse pent up dangerous feels

Patting without letting go one’s head

Begging cold alms of what he could do

In a bid to ease emphasised eye lines

Watery in latent knowledge beautiful.

Looking like a mole without glasses

Lanky shadow laughs to sit beside

Closing in the clouded table of books

Before placing glasses three legged

On for me in wheels of mindful despair

Dangling her feet against my covered arm

Wheeling me to relax and rest for tea

As question repeated itself unsaid

Keeping sought information beautiful.

Trying to be coyly flippant yet arch

A request was made for deceased actions

In part daydreams chivalric and gallant

Flowing through lemon grated hoarse throat

Knowingly egotistical yet shy

Still at play with notions of deficiency

Clothed in imposition experiments

Throwing out reasonable logic,

“Be a Dear – tell me something beautiful.”

Response was issued with alacrity

Done with the éclat of a tuned piano

Sounding like an orchestral organ

When pencil in right hand was extracted

From its cyclical spinning fulcrum

To be kissed in manner dryly respected

Almost swooned to see kindness thus spoken,

“Your personality makes my whole day

Regardless of how bad it’s been - Beautiful.”

Make what you will of those lines. I am a poor poet when I am uncertain of my fate. You need not speak if you should come. A look will be sufficient if I am to condition my behaviour and words to your person.

Yours, Yours,

Severus Snape.

Footnotes

Proestigium is Latin for illusion. Ironically, the English word Prestige derives from it.

The poem is my own. I apologise if it is ghastly. 5 points to anyone who can tell me where Severus will be hiding from 5-8pm.

The sign-off is deliberate, I did not accidentally repeat it. Tsar Nicholas II used to sign off this way to his Tsarina.