The Girl Who Never Knew

The greater part of my holidays was spent studying in the library. It was not because of my marks, which were starting to lose their shine of perfection. What I wanted was to finish all my Potions requirements as soon as possible; I did not think I could stomach any more classes with Snape. I was lucky to be the only one of my peers who could do so, but none of them had been a target of his love.

Although I knew I would sooner or later have to, I dreaded the idea of confronting him. I knew it would have to come eventually-I had nightmares about it-but for once in my life, I procrastinated.

The time in which I had to the library to myself was spoiled. I felt that the rest of my life was as well, a book with still-blank pages stained by horror and disgust. Perhaps someone noticed, and attempted to minister to me. The days made barely a dent in my newfound disquiet. By now I had recoiled within myself, and so was not myself, thinking only of myself.

When the rest of the school came shoving back into the castle, joking and carefree, I could only wince at their lurid happiness.

Of course, classes did start up again. The impersonal, unworried earth still spun no matter if my world had stopped. Many of my teachers said I was changed; my parents said my letters were getting shorter. Snape? He said nothing, but I sensed a stronger undercurrent of cruelty towards me. I desired greatly to be able to leave his class, and I would have-but I never could bring myself to.

I studied secretly, at night, with purloined copies of senior exams. My eyes looked hollow and dark after several weeks. This should have prompted me towards open action. Instead, I felt relieved. Tired, unhappy eyes were not easy to love.

At breakfast one day, I fell asleep in my bowl of porridge and almost drowned. My concerned friends pulled me out, alarmed, making so much fuss I wished I had. It was nearing the Easter holidays, an opportune occasion to drop Potions. The contemptuous, then disappointed, stare of Snape from the staff table clinched the matter.

Just as I was about to rise, Dumbledore did, calling for our attention.

"There will be a new addition to our staff," he announced, "right after Easter. A new professor is coming in to replace Professor Snape-"

He was not able to go any farther. Cheers, applause and a miniature riot broke out in the Great Hall like a Howler and reverberated off the wet roof tenfold. Snape, inert and reserved as he was, looked as if he was silently joining in.

"As I said," said Dumbledore in a raised voice after several gymnasts finished their cartwheels, "Professor Snape is leaving us to be married. We wish him the best of luck with his new life."

We were all silent at this from shock at first. Having read that diary of his, I was the least surprised and therefore the first to garner a reaction.

Standing up, I laughed. My hard, pitiless laugh echoed through the hall, returning to haunt us as I stopped. Everyone was looking at me now, but it was not them who I looked at.

Snape stared back steadfastly at me, his gaze neither angry nor surprised at me. No emotion of his was directed towards anyone.

Perhaps it was his lack of emotion at this cataclysmic event that led me to believe he was ashamed.

I had been about to say something insolent in sympathy for the fiancée, but now it did not come to me.

Shakily, I sat down. All eyes were still on me, and clearly I had made a fool of myself.

There was little to be talked of at the school except Snape's engagement.

"The man's been choosing the Slytherin password for twenty years! What," demanded Draco Malfoy indignantly, "are we expected to do now?"

No one had listened to him, but it struck me that being at Hogwarts for twenty years was an empty life for anyone.

The dungeons were the black hole of the castle, sucking in outcasts and hiding them there, reclusive and pale. They had never presented themselves to me so before. Now it began to scare me; what if one day I found myself here? Any excuse for turning back, of course.

But I did keep on going, much to my diminished pride, and at the end I found Snape. As well as someone else.

She was well into her twenties; from my knowledge of history I could sum up her type immediately: the bride, trained from birth to manage a household, sing, embroider, and please. This particular specimen was gaunt, loud-mouthed and meaningless. With limited ability to understand Snape, she had fallen prey to him very easily.

So, Snape had an arranged marriage. My bewilderment at his departure faded away, only to be replaced by scorn. He would have had a long way to fall to reach such a low point.

"Professor?" I said.

The woman with him descended upon me. Snape watched her like a hawk, ready to swoop down and claw her apart at the slightest error.

"Are you one of the students? I was fascinated to find out he was a teacher," she enthused. "You must tell me all about it."

"I was a terrible teacher," he said. If he'd had anything to lose he would not have denounced himself. "I hated it and they hated me."

She ignored him determinedly, still too juvenile to understand him yet. He wanted, after all, to browbeat her into maturity.

"What do you want?" said Snape to me. He was not looking at either of us from the hatred he bore towards us. I was relieved. It would be easier to speak without those hopeless, sullen eyes fixed upon me.

Breath came more easily to me knowing I could still be hated by him. I could phrase my words more bluntly, and said, "I shall tell you what I do not want, Professor, and that is to be in your class any longer."

"Are you a mean teacher?" scolded the bride-to-be, much as a child would have.

"Yes," he said calmly, "I'm terrible. I make them cry." He turned away from her, towards me. "Consider yourself emancipated, Miss Granger."

"The exams?"

"Go." It was a whisper, barely spoken at all. He had not wanted her to hear.

As I left, the woman accompanied me. She had an ulterior motive, which seemed to involve not remembering my name.

"Manuela, I must ask you something," she addressed me. "I wanted to get one of the students here to play a part in our wedding."

My heart sank. I wanted no part in this horrendous ceremony. To have to watch two such terrible people become hastily attached to each other would have been to damn them myself.

But really, was that not what I had wished for, some punishment inflicted upon Severus Snape?

"You think about it," she said, and changed her focus very quickly. "Look at this. Two-carat diamonds and pure gold." She brandished her glinting ring in my face, making my strained, red eyes ache.

The ring was massive indeed, an extravagant polyp upon her bony hand (therein lay her pride for it).

It made me think of that accursed diary and the "beautiful, well-received rings" mentioned. The former easily explained the latter fact: a moment of folly, leading to one's excruciating demise.

After several weeks without exposure to Snape, I felt emboldened. My second wind had come into place, and obviously I had not learnt my lesson since I still felt a need to investigate.

For the first time in quite a while, I was venturing down to the dungeons. They had not lost the threatening atmosphere that made you feel as if they were about to ensnare you; neither had Snape.

"Why are you here?" he snapped at me when I came in. "I hoped you had disappeared."

"I'm not afraid of you," I murmured uncertainly. For months I had cowered from him. The disdain I felt for his marriage alleviated this somewhat.

He looked up without comprehension.

"But I never wanted you to be scared of me," he insisted. "I never meant... it was supposed to stay a secret."

He got his bearings back and his expression hardened.

"I still cannot forgive you," he said quietly.

"For what?" I said. "Reading your diary? Finding out who you were?"

"No, not that. I should have expected that." His voice was without its usual edge, and somehow it did not sound as cruel as usual. The woman had been wearing him out too much to keep up his regular heartlessness.

Getting up, he held the door open.

"You never do leave, do you, Miss Granger?" he said. "You may hate me-that much is clear-but you are indefatigable. You keep on returning, always a constant reminder."

I looked at him for a minute and saw he was serious. I had felt resentment towards him for ever shattering my oblivion, yet I had come back for it to happen again. Once again, I came crawling back for more degradation at his hands.

And had we not both received it?

Unobtrusively as I could, I left. I was not invisible enough to avoid coming across that woman again.

"Oh, Heliotrope," she sang, "shall we be a bridesmaid?"

My encounter with Snape was not working in his favour, for I complied with her request. If it should hurt me, it at least would not be as much as it would hurt him.

When I came to her home for information, she was singing at the piano. She had neither talent nor skill, but years of training augmented the lack of either.

"I am so very glad you made up your mind," she said, beaming.

I nodded, saying politely, "You are very musical."

Pleased, she smiled, and launched into the middle of a song.

"Such joy there was at my wedding on Christmas day in the morning," she sang, then added to me, "For that is the date I have set, you see. We shall get twice the presents then."

Nodding again, I hailed a house-elf to give me the schedule, on which she was clearly clueless.

"Go into the next room to be fitted," she instructed. "I hope you like the colour pink."

She started to sing once more, yet on my exeunt I stayed near the door, listening.

Again, she repeated the line of the carol, not once, but over many times. It lost its cadence, continuing slowly to rise in volume. Now she was screaming at the room, defying the world-and the groom-to deny her the happiness of her wedding.