"I have grown to care for every bit of him. But, he hasn't seen me, for I know he only considers me an impending wall. I tried my best to be near him but he shuns me with an immense force." Hermione Granger was staring at a distance, casting a Profe...
Her pretty figure was illuminated by the crackling bluish flames as seen in the chic mirror in her hand. Her eyes had a silvery hue similar to a fish's scales. She had bronzed russet hair.
Her charming beauty was highlighted by the nearby firelight and the presence of a dapper-looking glass in her hand. Her face had a cordate form, and her lips were softly exquisite and soft-looking, complementing her chestnut eyes, bronzed russet hair, and wonderfully aquiline nose. She doesn't wear jewellery or makeup, yet it makes no difference to how stunningly elegant she looks.
Hermione Granger is already in her 5th year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Being a muggle-born in a world where magic dwells can be described as both blessing and a curse. Blessing in a way that she has abilities that no one in the muggle world could ever have, a talent given to her which is truly special. But there's no escaping the criticisms and bigotry in the wizarding world, particularly the pure-bloods. They claim that muggle-borns like her are unworthy to be linked with their like for they don't carry the magical blood into their veins. They have no right to be one of them. But Hermione wasn't that immature to feel detrimental to these baneful acts of theirs, for she has two best friends a person could ever hope for that never made her feel that her kind is an indignity to the world of magic.
She was perusing a leather black enchiridion placed on her lap, reviewing the lessons for their Potions class. Exam week was months away but frittering her time by poking around or doing senseless stuff was never her favourite activity. She would sit in the common room, in front of the calming fire, and sew the hours of the day reading. No one was there to bother her, almost everyone was visiting Hogsmeade, including Harry and Ron.
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She hated the fact that during these darkest times those boys are still thinking of ways how to spend their time leisurely. The Dark Lord has returned in their previous year, but here they are roaming around like life is about to end.
She finally closed the book and took her small hand mirror and looked at her reflection. If you had probably seen her, only one word will be produced in your mind. Beauty. Although she did not know this for she busies herself with studying, her visage was indeed prepossessing.
She returned the mirror to her bag lazily when the potions book accidentally fell from the chair. She quickly took it and put it back into its place when a slip of paper was left lying on the marble floor caught her attention. The parchment she held in her hand was old and worn. She wanted to open it but her mind blew with reluctance.
Do I dare open this? What if this paper yields dark magic? What if...?
She doesn't want to read it nor open it, but her sense of curiosity was forsooth dominant, so she tore it open and familiar neat writing revealed before her eyes.
My tears fell and kissed the shadowed mud The pain was striking vehemently but in a noiseless thud Screams of complaints piled up in a splashing flood The spinous precipice squashed every drop of blood.
Our hands were strongly bonded, but you removed yours and turned away You might have your reasons but my heart was squeezed like clay I might not live forever but my love for you can stay Even if the ravens turned white or the doves had turned grey. - H-BP
Hermione was deeply moved by the poet's mesmerizing words of affection and his heart-crushing grief. But what intrigued her the most was the poet's handwriting and his name. H-BP, what kind of name is that?
But then her thoughts shifted to the handwriting. She has seen it before. She must have read it somewhere. She was thinking hard when suddenly she remembered when and where she has seen that handwriting. No, it can't be. He can't be it. But her mind was obviously betraying her. It was perfectly clear. The handwriting belonged to one hell of a person. And she knows who that person is.
And that person is here at Hogwarts as well, by the name of Severus Snape.
Classes on the following day were filled with nothing but ennui. After Charms class was cancelled, due to the fact that the faculty members had to attend an urgent meeting, she had to go to the library to return the Potions book she borrowed the day before. She was almost convinced of returning the large tome when the slip of paper flashed its way to her bright mind. Should I return the paper too, or should I keep it? I can't. I want to keep it so much. But it isn't mine...
It took some time before she had made up her mind but in the end, she gave her ego a heightened priority. She felt rather guilty for not choosing the right thing but she couldn't remove her grasp on the paper. The words it conveyed were indeed touching and beautiful. She placed the black book on its shelf and made her way to the dungeons.
Now is the time to confirm things. To finally confirm things.
Like the usual Potions classes, Professor Snape would enter the doors of the classroom in his infamous black swishing robes with his blood-curling sneer, which is in her opinion, was quite a form of exaggeration. There was not much need to be cruel and vicious to the students, but it seemed that Professor Snape loved the idea of being hated. Or so she thought. But then glancing at the clock, she knew that the class will start soon. But of course, their teacher wouldn't be here anytime soon but a minute before. She herself had somehow believed that this dark professor desires to walk in a minute before the class commences to make his arrival filled with excessive panache.
After a minute's silence, she took out her quill and inkpot, for there were no schedules on potion-brewing this day. A rough discussion was the only event that they were all looking forward to in this class.
As time passed by, dishevelled students filled up the room, and the bat of the dungeons finally presented himself to the class.
