I have to find her. I must! Every day for the past two years, I have needed to see her face to live through the rest of the day. Ever since I saw that angel, the perfect woman, I have needed to have her. ... Snap out of it, Serverus! Snape told himself. She’s a student! You’re old enough to be her father ... But if she were my daughter, I’d be proud of her, he thought, ... because she is so perfect.

As he walked along, he was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he ran into someone headlong.

“Watch where you’re --“ he was about to snap, but he cut himself short at the sight of her face. “Oh, um, well, Ms. Granger ... um, seeing as it’s the beginning of the school year,� he stammered, in a feeble attempt at his usual cold manner, “I shan’t take points from Gryffindor. Be that as it may, since you are in the seventh year, I shall assign you detention for not looking where you’re going. Report to my office this Friday at seven o’clock sharp.�

Before she could say anything, he strode away, fearing his emotions would escape from under his control and make him shower her perfect, angelic face with kisses.

At least you have a reason to be alone with her this Friday. Maybe I should give more detentions to her. He shook his head vigorously to try to clear it, but it was no use. She was on his mind 24/7. Just like last year. And the year before.

Oh, and all through the summers, too. They were even worse. All he would have of her would be a picture clipped from The Daily Prophet of Hermione, Ron and Harry after the final battle with Voldemort. Harry had died shortly after from shock. He had lost an arm and a leg in the fight and was barely conscious for the picture. Ron had his arm over Hermione’s shoulder, and Snape remembered the looks Ron had given Hermione all during their academic careers, up until the beginning of the sixth year. He suspected it was Harry’s death that had put an end to all that, but since he couldn’t speak about feelings to Hermione without losing it -- and because he despised Ron -- he couldn't be sure.

He hated Ron with a passion, with a vengence, and all because of the way Ron acted around Hermione. Before Harry died, Snape had been sure Hermione was involved with both Harry and Ron. That was why he had hated harry so much, and had tormented him all through his fifth and final year at Hogwarts. Snape was sad he had made Harry’s last year of life such a hell ... but he had been spending so much damn time with Hermione that he felt justified.

Now Snape’s target was Ron, and he hated him, wanted to kill him, wanted to put his hands around Ron’s neck and hold until he turned blue. These thoughts repeated themselves in his mind, over and over. They have haunted him ... forever, it seems ... they wouldn't leave him ...

He didn’t really want to hurt any one, especially if it would hurt Hermione... but he wanted to kill Ron so badly, for what he’s doing to Hermione, blinding her to the one man who loves her more than anyone else could... For the next four days, these thoughts plagued him worse than ever, tortured him, followed him everywhere until...

It was Friday evening. Hermione was due in two minutes... it was 6:58– 6:59 now... tick-tock, tick-tock... he felt the pulse of the clock running through his body... tick-tock, tick-tock... 7:00, she should be here by now... 7:00:10, there was a knock at the door. “Come in,� said Snape, hoping against hope it was her. But did he look all right? Would she notice how he had washed his hair carefully that morning, had combed and flattened it smooth. But he had to sound cold, as usual. “Ms. Granger, you’re late.�

“How is that? It’s 7:00.� Oh, that voice! To listen to her voice was heaven. He swallowed and regained his control. “You are ten seconds late, Ms. Granger.� he said in his most controlled voice. “I shall have to deduct 50 points for being late to a detention.� Idiot! he thought to himself. Why did you say that?

It just slipped out! He argued with himself. Hermione’s mouth dropped open in indignation (marring such a beautiful face).

She dropped her bag and planted herself in front of him. “Well excuse me! I’m sorry I was ten seconds late! I’m sorry I couldn’t have been in your presence ten seconds earlier! I’m sorry I spent ten more seconds with my BOYFRIEND!�

At this last statement, her eyes widened and she clapped her hands over her mouth. Snape’s breath caught in his thought. His eyes started watering. “You... you don’t love me?� he whispered softly.

“Of course I don’t! I hate you!� His face fell. Thoughts ran through his head. Those thoughts. I hate her. Of course I don’t. I love her. I hate him. I’ll bet it’s that Weasley boy. I’ll kill him! It’s his fault. He is the one who asked her out. It’s not his fault. It’s mine for not attracting her attention earlier. I hate myself.

It’s all my fault.

The last sentence reverberated in his head over and over as he sat, catatonic, in his chair. He watched Hermione breathe hard. She finally quieted down, picked up her bag, and said softly to him, "Goodbye, Professor Snape.� Something clicked inside of him. He raised his was, mumbled something, pointed it at the door, and the door clicked shut. Hermione spun around, her eyes flashing. “What’s the mean– “ he cut her off by pulling her abruptly to him and kissing her passionately. She pulled away. Her eyes were still flashing, but this time softer, with more confusion in them than anything.

“ Wha– � she started. He put a finger to her lips, and, breathing heavily, reached into his robes.

He pulled out a vial of black liquid, and uncorked it. He looked at her with sad eyes, said “Goodbye, my sweet. I love you,� and drank down the poison. He slumped to the floor, a burning sensation coursing through him. He looked up at Hermione’s beautiful face for the last time, smiled, and then there was peace.

~Finé~