Young teacher the subject
Of schoolgirl fantasy
She wants him so badly
Knows what she wants to be
Inside her there's longing
This girl's an open page
Book marking - she's so close now
This girl is half his age

Something about the way she smiled at him made him feel that he was being analysed. There was something there, something that shouldn’t have been. Maybe it was the way she asked him incessantly about her grades, or maybe it was the fact that she never seemed to mind his taking points from her house, and would always repeat the offence, if only to capture his attention. It seemed odd to him that she, one of the most annoying and odd students he had ever had the displeasure to meet, would grapple for his attention, especially as he disliked her intently because of her being a member of the Hufflepuff house and a relative of that cursed Sirius Black. He looked up, his dark eyes meeting the lighter ones of a girl who stood before him, a smile playing on her lips. Sighing, he put down his quill, steepled his fingers, and treated her to his best glare. “What seems to be the problem?� She maintained eye contact, her cheeks reddening a little. Out of intimidation, he expected.

“I…I don’t understand this potion’s properties. Why would the combination of worm’s wart and dragon blood cause forgetfulness?� she asked, a little less confidence in her voice than usual. He sighed, gave her a final glare, and then responded:

“Because, you foolish girl, the structure of the worm’s wart fuses with the blood when boiled at the correct temperature of 500º C. Do you lack the capacity to read what is written for you in the textbook I am quite sure you received at the beginning of term?� he snapped, still glaring at her. She blushed a darker shade of crimson, shifting from one foot to the other, brushing a strand of her cropped copper hair out of her eyes. He frowned a little; he was quite sure her hair had been red the day before. Still, it seemed not to matter: He, Severus Snape, cared little for the hair colour of Nymphadora Tonks.

“Um…okay. I’m sorry. Thank you for clearing it up,� she said softly, lowering her eyes and moving back to sit with a tall blonde girl who was lazily stirring the content of her cauldron. Snape was quite convinced this would result in an explosion. However, he did nothing to stop the impending disaster. It would give him yet another chance to take points from that wretched Hufflepuff.

Don't stand, don't stand so
Don't stand so close to me
Don't stand, don't stand so
Don't stand so close to me

Tonks stood quietly next to the door to the potions classroom, twisting her now long, curled blonde hair around her finger, chewing nervously on her lower lip, wondering if perhaps he would notice her more if she had more striking hair. She knew it was wrong to fancy him, because he could lose his job if he did anything, but there was something alluring about the potions’ professor who never smiled and rarely changed his tone of voice. Even Catherine agreed with her, and she had a boyfriend in the year above.

Letting out a small sigh, she pulled a small mirror out of her schoolbag, looking carefully at her reflection. There was nothing she could do about the stupid spot of her chin, Metamorphmagus or not, but she did like the colour of her eyes (a light green) and the shape of her nose, which was slightly more adult that she usually had it. She almost dropped the mirror when Snape came swooping out of the classroom, his robes billowing. He froze when he saw her, fixing her with an icy stare that made her feel as though her brain had melted into a puddle and was now located in her left boot.

“What are you doing down here?� he snapped. She blushed and looked away for a second, trying to think up an excuse as to why she was skulking around the Potions classroom. None came to her, so she merely shrugged, pulling desperately on a lock of hair. He glared at her, and then noticed her hair had once again magically changed. “What did you do to your hair?� he asked in an equally crotchety voice, the smallest hint of curiosity lacing his tone. Her blush darkened, but she maintained eye contact.

“I changed it,� she said simply, fighting off the urge to run away and hide in her dorm. She would never act like this around any of her friends. She was never stuck for witty comebacks around them. True, she did have a tendency to knock things flying, like she did once during a Charms class and almost crushed Flitwick with a bookshelf, but even then she could laugh it off. Around him it was different, and it didn’t matter how much he insulted her. Snape rolled his eyes.

“I can see that, Miss Tonks. Now, if you will excuse me, I have more important things to tend to that do not involve you lurking in my dungeon,� he hissed, turning abruptly and making to walk away.

“Why do you hate me so much?� Tonks asked suddenly, regretting having asked almost immediately. Snape froze, and then spun around on his heels, looking murderous.

“Because I know you are merely trying to torture me in the way your cousin, Sirius Black, the murdering scum, would have wanted you to. Now leave me alone,� he barked, glaring at her. She gulped, taking a step back but holding her ground. The large, plastic green bangle around her wrist, so characteristic of the 80s, slid off her wrist as she let her arm go limp; dropping the curl of hair she had been tugging so desperately at. The bangle rolled across the floor and fell with a muffled thump in front of Snape’s shoes. He glared at it for a moment, and then picked it up, looking at it in interest before looking up. Tonks had disappeared. Letting out an angry sigh, he stuffed the bangle into his pocket. He’d give it to Sprout at the next staff meeting.

Her friends are so jealous
You know how bad girls get
Sometimes it's not so easy
To be the teacher's pet
Temptation, frustration
So bad it makes him cry
Wet bus stop, she's waiting
His car is warm and dry

“Severus, I understand that you wish me to return the bracelet, but why in the name of Merlin do you have it in your pocket five days after the incident? Does she not take your NEWTs class?� Professor Sprout asked, tucking a wisp of greying hair behind her ear as she peered beadily up at Snape, who was feeling more and more uncomfortable by the second. It was only his second year teaching, for Christ’s sake. He didn’t need a Hufflepuff of all people messing up his life, not yet anyway.

“I…forgot,� he grumbled, stuffing his hands back into the pockets of his robes, his fingers grazing against the warming plastic of the bracelet that he still had, staring mulishly at a point just above her eyebrows, his brow wrinkled. The fact of the matter was he would rather Sprout’s interrogating look was suddenly replaced by a small, knowing smile, which, for some reason, made him feel more nervous than ever.

“What?� he snapped, trying to keep calm as he prepared himself for any possible accusations from Sprout: Favouritism for his own house, hate for the Hufflepuffs, prejudice against her family—he had been known to be on less-than-friendly terms with most of them…

“Oh,� chuckled Sprout, her smile stretching now to her eyes, “I was just wondering if you are trying to deny it or if you actually know.� Snape’s brow furrowed more, his eyes narrowing.

“What are you talking about?� he asked, becoming more frustrated by the second. He hated not knowing what people were talking about. Perhaps that made him nosy. No matter, he would find out what this exasperating woman was on about. Sprout let out another quiet chuckle, then continued:

“Well, I do believe that little Nymphadora, bless her heart, seems to be a little taken with you. I’m sure it’s nothing serious, but I thought you ought to know, just so you don’t hurt her feelings.� Snape’s eyebrows shot up: He had not been expecting that response. Half of him wanted to laugh at the stout little woman before him and tell her straight that he knew women didn’t like him and there was no reason to pretend. The other half of him wanted to run out of the room to shout out Dumbledore for allowing little oversexed witches into Hogwarts.

“That is utterly preposterous!� Snape barked, turning tail and sweeping out of the teacher’s lounge, the bracelet still heavy in his pocket. He realized as he turned the corner that lead down to the dungeon that he had forgotten, in his rage at being so obviously tricked, to give the blasted thing to Sprout. That meant he would have to talk to her. He shuddered, and then made his way down the steps, back to the sanctuary of his dungeon.

Don't stand, don't stand so
Don't stand so close to me
Don't stand, don't stand so
Don't stand so close to me

“I don’t know…d’you prefer the green or the blue eyes? What about my lips; too pouty?� Tonks asked her friend, Mary, staring intently at her reflection in the mirror. Usually she just left it at red hair with brown eyes, but right now she was having trouble deciding what exactly she wanted to look like. It was a pain sometimes, being able to choose what your nose looked like. Other girls just had to make do with makeup, which narrowed the options down slightly.

“For the love of…alright, just make your eyes blue, leave your hair black, and your lips are fine,� Tonks’ friend, Mary, snapped, brushing her own straw blonde hair back from her face and into a high ponytail. She did not hold for Tonk’s little obsession with Snape: It resulted in quite a bit of extra time spent consoling her best friend about her looks.

“What d’you think?� she asked finally, turning to look at Mary, who shrunk back a little. Tonks looked quite terrifying, her blue eyes ringed with black kohl, her lips painted black, and her skin much paler than usual. Her new look, coupled with her baggy school robes and huge boots, made her look like a KISS groupie.

“You look like a KISS groupie,� Mary said without batting an eyelid, frowning at her friend. Tonks rolled her eyes and walked out of the dorm, signaling for Mary to follow her. Potions was the first class of the day, which was sure to provide some entertainment. Tonks thought that perhaps an extreme look would get Snape’s attention, whether he wanted to notice her or not.

Loose talk in the classroom
To hurt they try and try
Strong words in the staff room
The accusations fly
It's no use, he sees her
He starts to shake and cough
Just like the old man in
That book by Nabakov

“Today, we will be concocting Veritaserum, a truth potion, as you all know. Instructions are on the board, and on page 650 of your text book. If I see any of you behaving foolishly, I may force you to test some of your own product, and I know of some rather nasty questions I’m sure you’d rather not be asked,� Snape said in a deadly whisper, his black eyes scanning the room. Something—someone was missing. He wasn’t sure who, however, until the bane of his existence, Nymphadora bloody Tonks, slammed the door open and skulked into the room, looking rather like a groupie for the muggle band KISS. Raising an eyebrow, Snape asked: “Miss Tonks, what is the meaning of this? Ten points from Hufflepuff for making such an entrance and another ten for looking like a fool.�

In her mind, Tonks gave a brilliantly sarcastic reply that sent the class off into gales of laugher, but in reality all she could do was blush and scurry off to her seat, looking down timidly at her cauldron. Snape watched the students as they worked, breathing down their necks and snidely informing them that they had added the second ingredient before they should have, earning them no points on that day’s assignment.

“Miss Tonks, what do you call this?� Snape inquired in a deadly whisper as he leant over her shoulder and peered at the acid green mist that her cauldron was producing.

“Um, Veritaserum, sir,� she muttered, trying not to blush. He was much too close to her. Snape smirked, raising his eyebrow at the tacky black mess that was slowly crawling out of the cauldron. How she had gotten marks good enough to pursue NEWT level potions he did not know.

“I am sure this mess would do nothing more than to render the drinker dead, not truthful. Although I suppose one could threaten the truth out of the criminal by threatening him with this monstrosity. Class dismissed, except for you, Miss Tonks,� Snape said with malice, smirking at Tonks in a way that made her feel extremely uncomfortable as well as extremely aroused. The class filed out, leaving her alone with the crotchety potion’s master, her heart beating wildly against her ribcage.

“I have your bracelet,� Snape snapped suddenly, tossing the plastic piece of jewelry at Tonks. She caught it and stuffed it hastily into her bag, not looking at Snape as she stood up and began to clean her things off of her desk. There was absolutely no reason for her to be here other than that stupid bracelet. When she finished clearing up she looked up, and saw Snape watching her, a smirk on his lips.

“What?� she snapped, glaring at him as she took a step closer to him. She was too disheartened to care what would happen. He could give her detention if he wanted. He wasn’t going to see her as anything but a student. Ever.

“Miss Tonks, please do not speak to me in such a manner,� he said silkily, shaking his head mockingly. “Another ten points from Hufflepuff, I believe.�

“If you hate me so much, why do you keep talking to me?� Tonks shouted suddenly, her patience snapping. She hated that she couldn’t hate him in all his slimy Slytherin glory. “Why do you keep making me pay attention to you? And, you know, being nice once in a while wouldn’t bloody kill you!� Snape raised his eyebrows, giving her a look of absolute loathing.

“Because you insist on following me about like some foolish little girl who is trying to avenge her second cousin who is in Azkaban,� he snarled, treating her to a look that could have frozen even the most fiery of tempers. Tonks let out a humourless laugh, glaring back at Snape and stepping forward so that she was mere inches away from him. He made to back away, but found the desk was behind him.

“You think I hate you and want to torture you? No, actually, you’re the most attractive person I have ever met, and you insist on torturing me!� she retorted, her voice cracking as her eyes filled with tears. Stupid man, stupid attraction. She couldn’t stand him.

Snape’s jaw dropped. So Sprout had been right. He wasn’t really sure what to do. The crying was making him uncomfortable, as was the nearness of the silly teenage girl. He could see she was about to talk again, so he did the one thing that he knew would shut her up: He lent forward and kissed her roughly on the lips. She almost collapsed into him, her hands gripping the front of his robes as he stole her mouth with his own. He broke the kiss, looking scornfully down at her. “Is that what you wanted? Get out of my sight this instant, you little whore� he ordered. She took a step away from him, her retort caught in her throat. “And if you tell anyone, you will lose more than just house points.� She nodded, and left, her eyes brimming once again with tears. How could anyone be so mean? Snape sighed and leaned against his desk, wiping the lipstick off his face with the back of his hand. At least now she’d hate him for breaking her heart. It was better for both of them that way.


Don't stand, don't stand so
Don't stand so close to me
Don't stand, don't stand so
Don't stand so close to me
Don't stand, don't stand so
Don't stand so close to me