Severus Snape (severus_or) wrote in hogwarts_or, @ 2008-01-12 17:55:00 |
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Current mood: | preoccupied |
In the library [open]
Though he really ought to be working on his Herbology essay, Severus found that the mystery of his secret admirer's identity kept intruding on his thoughts. He'd written back to her, so sure of himself as to her identity, but then, he began to second-guess himself and crossed out loads of things before once again asking Lily's opinion. Instead of that making him feel better, however, the more he asked Lily's advice, the worse he felt -- almost as if he were betraying 'Merch' by telling somebody else her secrets -- as odd as it might be to think about betraying somebody he didn't really know.
He realised that he'd read the same paragraph in Nine Hundred Ninety-Nine Magical Herbs and Fungi three times now, and he still didn't have the first clue what it said. It was no use, really. He closed the book with a sigh and reached into his bag to retrieve Merch's latest letter, as well as quill, ink, and parchment, to begin his reply. Of course, it didn't help that she'd shot holes in his theories with the first couple of lines. Perhaps that was why he felt so terrible now. Did he know, instinctively, that she was sitting somewhere and reading over his previous letter whilst laughing at him? After all, he would have thought he'd have found at least one of the notes she'd left in the common room, had she been telling the truth...
Stop that! he mentally chided himself, shaking his head. Why couldn't he just accept the idea that a girl might actually fancy him?
Severus had been carrying around all the letters she'd sent, checking them and re-checking them whenever another possible clue occurred to him. If he ever did find out who she was, she would likely be exceedingly miffed at him for scribbling all over her letters. They had bits of writing circled here and there and all sorts of notes in the margins. Then again, perhaps she would be flattered at all the effort he'd put into working out her identity ... if this wasn't some sort of sick joke.
Merch,
I am half Welsh, on my mother's side.
The first paragraph was exceedingly short, so he could reply to that straightaway. He set down his quill to re-read her next paragraph then, skipping the ego-bruising first sentence. She said he was brilliant -- which was nice to hear, after chiding him for being so sure of himself -- and that he knew all there was to know about Dark magic. Plus, he was a prefect, so his marks couldn't be too bad. But the last bit of the paragraph made him frown in thought.
I have also heard you brew potions as a hobby. Is that correct? I can't imagine a complete dolt could brew on his own without maiming himself on a regular basis.
Why did that sound so familiar? Granted, he was obsessed with safety, first and foremost, when it came to Potions. Mam had seen to that, and so he was usually the first person to comment on the precautionary aspects of brewing. When the source of his momentary sense of déjà vu finally occurred to him, he pulled out his Legens and flipped through a few pages to make certain. And sure enough, it was he who mentioned that brewing perfume was a dangerous pastime.
After scanning the page further, he stopped cold. He'd completely forgotten about that conversation with Miss Ducannon -- until now. Later on, she'd told him all the horrible things people called her, and he'd said much the same thing. And hadn't Merch said she wasn't exactly popular or even respected in her first letter? He rummaged in his bag to retrieve the letter marked '#1,' and sure enough, that was precisely what she'd said. In addition, she said she'd never talked to him in person, and ... well, Miss Duncannon hadn't talked to him in person -- just that once in her Legens.
Delving once more into his bag, Severus pulled out a clean sheet of parchment to list all the clues he had so far. Before he started that, however, he decided to make a list of evidence against Merch's being Miss Duncannon, as well as in favour of, just to make sure he wasn't jumping the gun, or going off half-cocked, or whatever Muggle phrase it was that might apply.For:
is shy
has never spoken to me
had trouble with flying lessons
likes Potions
likes Defence
likes to read
won't answer about lessonsAgainst:
won't answer about lessons
When he finished the list, he frowned, thinking he was still no better off than he had been before. After all, that one piece of evidence against could easily invalidate all the others. But what if he was right? And his gut told him that he was, despite the fact that everyone said Miss Duncannon was a lesbian, probably because of her given name. Of course, people said all sorts of things about him that weren't true, either, so who was to say they weren't doing the same thing to her?
On the other hand, one written conversation with Miss Duncannon was hardly enough to conclude much of anything about her, especially since one couldn't compare handwriting samples with the block print that showed in a Legens. And as Lily had said, they were more likely to know people in their own year better than people in other years, but he still didn't know much of anything at all about her...
Severus blinked. That was it! All this time, it had been staring him right in the face. He had known Miss Duncannon for four and a half years, and she had never spoken a word to him -- not once. Not so much as a measly "please pass the salt" at supper, even. In fact, if it hadn't been for the rumours that she liked girls, he wouldn't even know her first name. Of course, he'd always assumed she thought she was too good to speak to him, and the few times he'd spoken to her, she'd looked away. And yet, she always seemed to be near by, didn't she?
If it turned out that he was wrong, well ... then he'd just start over, and re-evaluate the evidence in light of that failed hypothesis. But really, what did he have to lose? Reaching across the table, he pulled the reply he'd started closer, laying his list of pros and cons next to it on the table for easy reference whilst he wrote. Well, perhaps he could employ both of his earlier instincts at one time: 'bluff' in order to make her think he knew who she was to get her to confess, as well as reassure her that he wasn't going to bite her head off, if she did.
His hand fairly flew across the parchment as he now shot holes in her theory regarding why she wouldn't give him an answer about lessons. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so exhilarated. And it wasn't simply solving the mystery, either. It was the thought of somebody who fancied him, and a very pretty somebody, at that, with her auburn hair and -- well, he was fairly certain Miss Duncannon had green eyes, though obviously he'd never really seen her up close.