Title: Happy Birthday, Professor Snape
Author: sdk
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Snape, Hermione (could be pre-Snape/Hermione if you want it to be)
Rating: PG for some language
Genre: Gen
Length/Word Count: One-shot, 1647 words
Warnings: AU-ish
Summary: To Severus' dismay, his birthday does not pass unnoticed.
Notes: Written for omarandjohnny's birthday. Set during 5th year, but doesn't really acknowledge canon events of that year, so probably AU. Thanks to lilithilien for the beta! Any remaining mistakes are my own.
Disclaimer: The following is based on fictional characters that I don't own doing fictional things in a fictional world that I didn't create. No copyright infrigement intended, no money's being made.


Happy Birthday, Professor Snape


“Ah, good morning, Severus.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as Severus took his usual seat at the head table. Dumbledore always seemed surprised to see him, as if Severus wouldn’t dare sully his morning by spending it with children when he suffered their presence throughout the day, but Severus was always there each morning for his two scoops of porridge and morning tea.

At 6:45 AM, of course, when most students were still lounging in their beds like the lazy, undisciplined fools they were.

Severus nodded in Dumbledore’s direction, then proceeded to ignore him as he prepared his tea. Severus preferred to remain silent until at least after his first cup, his tongue particularly sharp before the soothing touch of piping hot Earl Grey. With his first sip, Severus made his customary sweeping gaze around the mostly empty Great Hall. Yes, the usual early-risers were all in attendance—the Slytherin table the most populated and the Gryffindor table sparse, as expected, Miss Granger and that idiot boy Longbottom its only inhabitants. McGonagall should be disgraced, but Severus decided to be lenient with her that morning. He was in a rare charitable mood, grateful his breakfast wouldn’t be tainted with those raucous lions. Why, he might even dine alone in his office for lunch and dinner to indulge in a full day of Gryffindor-free meals.

Now if Severus could only flunk them all out of his Potions class, his charitable mood might last.

“A birdie came to me this morning,” Dumbledore said just loud enough to encroach on Severus’ thoughts. “‘Chirp chirp chirp,’ the little thing said, and I was quite dismayed that I couldn’t understand him. He seemed desperate to communicate with me.”

Ah yes, no breakfast would be complete without one of Dumbledore’s pointless flights of fancy.

“Although I never did receive the full message,” Dumbledore conceded with a tilt of his head, “I believe he was trying to tell me that today is a very special day for one of our professors. What do you think, Severus?”

Severus tightened his jaw. “Obviously one of the first years had a dreadful Transfiguration accident.” He ignored Minerva’s offended huff. “But do tell me if you manage to capture the bird. I can always use fresh potion ingredients.”

Porridge untouched, his tea merely half-drunk, Severus excused himself from the table without further comment, and did not turn around for Dumbledore’s cheery, “Have a good day, Severus!” Old coot. Instead, he stormed toward the exit, only slowing to glare at the Gryffindor table (glaring at Gryffindors never failed to relax him) when he discovered the gaze of a certain bookish (and nosy) Gryffindor following his path.

Severus narrowed his eyes. Miss Granger blushed and looked away.

No, this was not going to be a good day.

--


“Today you will be brewing a Strengthening Solution without a partner. Ingredients and directions are on the board.” Severus pointed his wand toward the chalked letters scrawled across the board, then eyed the class of fifth years, challenging them to even mutter a complaint. Truthfully, Severus knew a number of spells to recreate nice, neat handwriting, but any student that couldn’t find the time to memorize the appropriate potions for the year deserved to squint. Only a few above first year ever dared to complain.

But as he swirled around to return to his desk (he would make his customary walk through the class midway through the brewing, the time when a high concentration level was vitally important for this particular potion) a female student had the audacity to giggle.

Severus whirled around, his black robes lashing angrily at his feet. “Something amusing, Miss Brown?”

Brown turned a satisfactory shade of purple as she jerked her head in dissent and scooted closer to Longbottom. As if that nervous half-wit could possibly protect her. “I suggest, then, you keep that impressively large maw closed, lest bits of whatever travesty Longbottom brews fly into your mouth. Five points from Gryffindor.”

Severus waited for the obligatory rage from her fellow housemates: Potter fisted his stirring rod; Weasley opened and closed his mouth several times like an orange frog; Longbottom simply stared into his cauldron as if he’d like nothing better than to crawl inside and hide until the end of class. Coward.

But Miss Granger seemed to be oblivious to the whole exchange. Severus would never admit it, but this disappointed him. He often enjoyed his little battles with the girl as she spouted argument after argument from that overly large brain of hers and Severus refuted her each time with logic that even she couldn’t deny: Severus Snape was the professor and therefore would always win. Miss Granger was far too corrupted by the bumbling idiots she called her best friends; she needed to relearn a healthy respect for authority.

But how could she learn if now, no matter how long he glared, she refused to acknowledge him? No, all he could see was a mass of ugly brown hair and the top of her quill, jauntily scribbling away.

“Miss Granger.” Severus strode to the front of her desk. He was mildly appeased when Weasley shrunk back as he approached. There. Miss Granger finally looked up. “Would you kindly tell me what potion we are brewing today? Do not look at the board.”

Severus needn’t have bothered to add his last instruction because the insufferable know-it-all didn’t even attempt to glance away from him before answering, “A Strengthening Solution, sir.”

At least there was a nervous lilt to her voice, barely detectable, but there none the less.

“And what is the first step in preparing a Strengthening Solution?”

“Shred one half ounce of Barberry root. Sir.”

“Then tell me, Miss Granger, how scribbling love notes fits into this first step?”

Splotches of pink dotted Miss Granger’s cheeks. She hastily tried to shove her parchment beneath her Potions book, but Severus was too quick and snatched it out of her hands.

“Perhaps I shall keep this, then, for the time being, so you won’t be so distracted.” Severus smiled slickly. “And as further incentive to concentrate, I will read this aloud at the end of class if I am not satisfied with the state of your potion.”

Severus whipped around to head toward the front of the classroom; he need not gape at Miss Granger to know her cheeks flared from embarrassment. Oh yes indeed, this day might not be as bad as he’d originally thought.

The rest of the class passed without further incident. Severus worked on marking essays for most of the period, having tossed the Granger girl’s scribbling aside, momentarily forgotten. But as the end of the lesson drew near, the parchment caught his attention again. It was folded in half, perhaps a makeshift card, a badly drawn cauldron on the front.

Severus opened the parchment.

Dear Professor Snape,

I heard that it was your birthday. If my facts are in error, I apologize, but I have triple-checked my sources

Despite the fact that you laughed at me when

I hope you have

I wanted to wish you

Happy

Severus inhaled a sharp breath. He placed the parchment back on his desk and stood.

“Your potion should be a smooth shade of red-orange if you have followed the instructions precisely, which I doubt few of you have,” Severus said, though from the countless raised eyebrows in the class, he knew his voice lacked the usual venom.

That damn Granger girl.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Bring a sample up front for marking. Anyone who produced an unsatisfactory potion will be assigned a two foot essay detailing the properties of the Strengthening Solution.”

The scraping of chairs succeeded in covering most of the students’ groans, though Severus thought he detected a faint whine from Longbottom. But he couldn’t draw enjoyment from Longbottom’s misery or from sharpening his glare at each student as they turned in their vials, because his eyes kept flitting to his desk, to the parchment with the comical cauldron. It wasn’t the worst graphical depiction of a cauldron he’d ever seen, he mused. Not that it mattered how bad the drawing was; the unfinished sentiment inside was not appreciated. Not at all.

Finally his class was near empty, but he couldn’t even derive pleasure from that, as Miss Granger was the last student to gather her belongings and turn in her potion.

And then she hovered by his desk.

“Can I help you with something, Miss Granger?” Severus sat down and busied himself with restacking the marked essays.

“Thank you for not reading the card aloud,” she said quietly, adding a quick “Sir” when he glanced up.

Severus’ lips tightened. “There wasn’t much to read, if you recall.”

“Yes, sir.”

Severus expected her to rush away (why wouldn’t she just leave?) but she stood there in silence, shifting her weight until Severus acknowledged her again.

“Was there something else?”

“Yes—I…I was wondering if I could possibly see the card again? For a moment, and then, of course you can keep it. It was meant for you, after all.”

Severus handed her the parchment wordlessly, then studiously returned his attention to restacking the essays. He almost considered alphabetizing them to take up more time, but it didn’t take Miss Granger long to scribble something else on the card, then hand it back to him.

Against his better judgment, he opened the card.

Professor Snape,

Happy Birthday, sir.

From,
Hermione Granger

Quick footsteps brought his attention from the parchment again; he looked up in time to see Miss Granger disappear into the hallway as his door clicked shut. He took a breath, then two, then one more for good measure. Once he was sure she wasn’t going to dart back in, forgetting a school book or some other such nonsense, he slipped the card into his pocket and headed toward his cauldron.




-Fin-







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