Shakespearean Snape - Act I

Shakespearean Snape

"'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate'.”

Snape snapped his mouth shut, his mind racing to analyze what had just occurred. This is not happening. This cannot be happening, not in front of her. She and her bloody little friends will be falling arse over tip in laughter when she relates this blasted tale. And how in all the world did I come to care for her of all people? Snape moaned, his lips thinned in an effort to keep from speaking again.

The voice in his head that always sounded so much like Dumbledore chose this particular moment to appear and answer his silent question. How could you not realize your growing esteem for the girl? Have you already forgotten how disappointed and hurt you felt when you discovered that Miss Granger had decided to pursue Potions, but had not come to you first to inquire about an apprenticeship? She is talented and bright. She is eager to learn and has tremendous potential. She is also caring and kind. And you have already admitted she is attractive.

No, Snape argued with himself, I was not hurt. I simply acknowledged that I would have been better suited in regards to the girl’s inclination toward research.

His internal diatribe was effectively ended by Miss Granger, who had remained silent up to this point.

“Shakespeare, Professor? Are you feeling all right?” she asked. Concern and amusement battled for expressive supremacy as her eyes scanned his face for some sort of explanation.

Snape closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Maybe that declaration would end the spell, he hoped. But as he opened his mouth to explain, once more the spell took control.

“'So are you to my thoughts as food to life, Or as sweet-seasoned showers are to the ground; And for the peace of you I hold such strife As ‘twixt a miser and his wealth is found; Now proud as an enjoyer and anon, Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure, Now counting best to be with you alone, Then better’d that the world may see my pleasure; Sometime all full with feasting on your sight, And by and by clean starved for a look; Possessing or pursuing no delight, Save what is had or must from you be took. Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, Or gluttoning on all, or all away'."

Snape heaved a silent groan of anguish as the words poured forth. Try as he might, he seemed unable to stop the flow of words. More damned Shakespeare. The chit’s going to think I’ve gone mad! And why Shakespeare of all things? I certainly hope that all that vaulted knowledge of hers proves useful and she reaches a logical conclusion.

Snape watched in humiliation as the look of concern on Miss Granger’s face deepened. Then she walked around the counter and approached him. He flinched as her hand gently came to rest on his arm. “You are behaving very oddly, Professor. Have you been cursed?”

So much for “brightest witch of her age”. Forgetting himself momentarily, he opened his mouth to snap at her that of course he’d been cursed. Why else would he be spouting such romantic nonsense? Unfortunately, those words never made it past his lips.

“'All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand'.” Then without intending to, Snape felt a smirk emerge. “'Tempt not a desperate man’, Miss Granger,” he said in a silky tone he almost didn’t recognize as his own.

Miss Granger’s hand flew from his arm, repositioning itself, along with its mate, on her curvy hips. “What on earth has gotten into you, Professor? You had better hope your behavior is the result of a curse, or you’ll find yourself cursed by me every which way but up!”

Letting out a defeated, angry sigh, Snape tried once more to explain himself. The words simply refused to come out as intended.

“'These words are a razor to my wounded heart’.”

Snape watched, helpless to explain himself, as Miss Granger withdrew her wand. Wand in hand, she took a step back. Her arms remained down at her sides, but the tension of her musculature belied her calm stance. He had seen her fight. Miss Granger could and would hex him if she felt sufficiently threatened.

“I have always respected you, Professor, and I had thought that you might finally allow me a bit of respect as well. I can see I have been sorely mistaken. I am no longer your student. I am neither required nor willing to put up with your taunts and humiliating barbs anymore.” She gestured toward the door. “I believe you should leave, Professor.”

Snape nodded, but held up his hand in a request for patience. “My dearest Hermione, I will do as you bid,” the spell brought forth, “but 'I will wear my heart upon my sleeve for daws to peak at’ until the fates permit me view of your beauty again.”

Then, he backed out of the shop, fled Hogsmeade, and did not slow until he arrived at Hogwarts and the Headmistress’ Office door. He knocked twice, hard, waiting for her permission to enter. At Minerva’s admittance, he plopped gracelessly into the nearest chair and glared at his employer.

“Severus, are you all right?”

“No, Minerva. I can assure you that I most certainly am not all right. I came here to inform you that I have every intention of killing one of your students before this day is through.”

“Oh, honestly, Severus, calm yourself. There is no need for dramatics. Now, which student has upset you this time?”

“Creevey.” Snape growled the name as if it was too vile to even pronounce.

“Creevey? Oh, dear. Does this have anything to do with the spell from the other day?”

Snape just glared at his long-time friend as a hint of a smile began to appear on her face.

“So am I to assume that you do in fact have a secret love?”

Snape growled again before answering. “So it would seem. Minerva, I was spouting Shakespeare in the Hogsmeade apothecary! Shakespeare! I sounded like some lovesick teenager on Valentine’s Day. So help me, Minerva, I am going to kill that boy! Anyone could have come in and heard me. It’s bad enough she heard me!”

“Well, aren’t you going to at least tell me who she is?” Minerva asked teasingly.

Snape deflated immediately. He sank back into the chair and stubbornly looked at the floor, refusing to meet Minerva’s gaze.

“Oh, come on, Severus. It can’t be that bad,” she condoled.

“I sincerely doubt you’ll feel the same when you find out the young woman’s identity,” Snape muttered, hating the self-depreciating tone of his voice.

“I can assure you that regardless of who your lady of choice happens to be, I’ll be quite content. I just want you to be happy, Severus.”

“Yes, well, enjoy your flight of fantasy, Minerva, because you’ll never see your delusions come to fruition,” Snape answered softly. Then he added, “The young woman in question is…” Minerva leaned across the desk to catch his barely audible words. “… Miss Granger.”

A/N:

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day… ” comes from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18.

“So are you to my thoughts as food to life… “ comes from Sonnet 75.

“All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand” is from MacBeth, Act 5, Scene 1.

“Tempt not a desperate man” is from Romeo & Juliet, Act 5, Scene 3.

“I will wear my heart upon my sleeve for daws to peak at” is from Othello, Act 1, Scene 1.

This was harrowing to write, but I hope you will enjoy reading it. :)