It All Started with a Letter...
The written word is a very powerful thing. Sometimes the simple act of writing a letter can cause all kinds of havoc. Today's stories have one special thing in common. They all started with a letter...
This week's quiz was chosen by kribu who is obviously Snape's career counselor.
The first fangirl who posts a perfect score will get to choose the next quiz. The mail owl is waiting for your response!
Match the quote to the story title:
The Letter by alexa83
Letter of Mercy One Sunny Morning by foudebassan
In Annulo by ladyofthemasque
A Letter by Snape by averygoodun
To Be Lived by ladybirdington
Heavenly Angel by teshara WIP
Last Chance by DistinctVagueness
Against His Will by sophierom
Letter from Exile One Merciful Morning by Textualsphinx
It All Started With A Letter by daintress WIP
Love Letter by chivalric55
Who Are You? by Laiagarien
1. My dearest Ron,
If you read this, I must be dead. The charm on this parchment is meant to dissolve only when I disappear from this earth. It is a variant of the Do-Not-Notice spell I developed recently.
Let me explain. I have a secret to confess to you: one that will, I believe, ease your guilt on the Lavender front (yes, I know you two have been shagging for the last thirty years. I would have intervened to tell you it was all quite right, but I have a feeling you enjoy the secrecy.) Either way, do not fret over your affair. I have had less and less time to dedicate to us as a couple over the years, and I was happy to see you and Lavender get along so well. I never wanted you dissatisfied… But I digress.
It all began on the day of the final battle. Do you remember… I am sorry, of course you remember. That day is etched on all our souls, I daresay. On mine, on yours, on Harry’s. But we might not all recall the same things. Indeed, the intensity of the emotions - of the fighting - of the sudden deaths - it must be reflected in all our psyches. It might have coloured what memories we have of that fateful day.
2. I am not so foolish as to say love, because while I know a great deal more about you than the average student, I know better than to assume I know enough to profess my undying devotion.
Don't snort, Professor, it isn't dignified.
I am fairly certain you will write this off as a silly schoolgirl crush. But you should know that at least one student appreciates and respects the work that you have done…
And one woman sincerely cares about your happiness.
Hermione Granger
It was the last line that undid me.
I was unaffected by her melodramatic opening, untouched by her pathetic attempts at humor, utterly unmoved by her declaration of admiration. She was an eighteen-year-old Gryffindor who had stood alongside me on the battlefield; of course she mistook that fleeting moment of camaraderie as esteem, perhaps as something more.
I, however, was not so foolish as to believe that what had occurred on the streets of Hogsmeade that day was anything more than the release of long-held stress. The feeling of her body against mine, the brush of her fingers against the nape of my neck, the sensation of her lips on mine, it meant nothing, of course.
There were countless people embracing in the streets that day, people who had never cared a whit for each other the day before. We were simply two exhausted warriors, mindless in our relief. Absolutely mindless.
3. "Give it back to her, Ron. It’s a private letter."
"Not any more it isn’t. Her ‘private’ life has public effects. She won’t get away with it."
"I can be addressed directly, Ron."
"Fine! You want to know what’s it your letter? You can hear it. Out loud. Or I burn it with that fire spell of yours. "Fumos!" Blue flames appeared at the end of his wand. He stood like a sentinel, letter in one hand, flames in the other.
Dumbledore was not at breakfast. He hadn’t been at meals for several days. McGonagall had made the announcement - with severity and tact in equal measure. She moved swiftly to the Gryffindor table, but Hermione reached a decision first.
"Good! Read it out for everyone to hear. Let’s get it over with for once and for all. Drag me through the mud, snigger at my secrets and then we can all go home. I’ll even magnify your voice for you!" She chucked the spell at Ron’s throat.
4. Miss Granger,
I am well aware of the fact that this letter is inappropriate; still, I find it impossible not to write it.
I do apologise. You must be shocked that I put words to paper, words that will scandalise you, words I can't say aloud. I do not wish to scandalise you, but if I don't write down what I feel, the words will break me. My emotions will break me. And yes, I am well aware of how ridiculous that must sound to you as I know that you - like most people - consider me unable to have emotions at all.
To make this short: it seems I have developed certain feelings for you, despite the fact that you are engaged to Mr Weasley. I assure you that I fought against them with all my might. I tried to put them out of my mind. But I failed.
5. “A letter?” Hermione repeated, curiosity drawing her out of her grief. “From whom?”
“We’re not quite sure,” her father stated, coming back through the hallway, a folded scrap of parchment in his hand. “The outer letter was addressed to us. It said that we were to keep this for you, and to hand it to you directly, and not forward it on or anything.”
“Though we’re not sure why we couldn’t,” Daphne added dryly, lightly. “If we didn’t know where that cross-post station was, downtown, making it easy to send things between regular and wizarding mail, we’d never know how to call down one of your wizarding owls. Still, it’s rather nice to be able to do that.”
Taking the somewhat lumpy letter, Hermione turned it over in her hands, examining it. The handwriting was textbook-quality, suggesting some sort of copying spell. Someone didn’t want their handwriting recognized, perhaps? This one simply had her name scrawled across the front surface. No return address or anything. Wary, Hermione crossed to the breakfast nook, set the letter on the surface of the table, and prodded it with a couple of revelatory charms, delivered at wand-point. Nothing happened.
Still cautious, she popped open the unstamped seal, and unfolded the parchment, which had been turned into its own envelope. The inside of the letter was relatively short, rather shocking, and came with a smallish, golden circle. A ring, chased in a subtle, sinuous pattern of scales.
6. I loved you, Severus Snape. I only want to know whom I loved.
She got up and walked towards the fireplace. Tears wetted her cheeks and chin. She tended the fire until it blazed high. Satisfied, she rolled up the piece of parchment, blotted by her tears, and threw it in the fire.
The writing had drained her. She fell down in one of her low chairs by the fireside, letting her tears flow freely. So she sat for minutes, maybe hours, not counting time. The fire was burning low now. Suddenly a head appeared in the flames, blurred by her tears. Without the long beard, it was difficult to recognise Albus Dumbledore, but she did. She blinked, but the head did not go away. It spoke.
“Hermione,” it said. She flinched at the use of her given name, not something she was used to at Hogwarts. She had hoped he would call her that, once he had woken up, when she ran towards him during battle. Paying no heed to the danger for her own life, she had rushed towards the lifeless form of her Professor. They had stopped her, indeed. Hagrid had had to lift her off her feet to prevent her from running straight into Harry’s Crucio. Now, she wondered whether the Cruciatus Curse wouldn’t have been better than this. The Headmaster’s head had disappeared from the fire. Good. She wanted to be alone and think. Or not think at all…
7. I selfishly hope that you read this and shed a few tears for me, as I would hate to leave this earth with no mourners. If, by chance, you do mourn me and by some miracle have regrets of "what might have been," please remember that nothing would ever have happened had I lived. Death is a welcome chance for this declaration that I never would have taken in life. The hope that lets me rest, however, is that I did my best to help you live, and be who you are. Shine on, love, and be loved. Be yourself, for that is the most you could ever offer the world, and the most the world could ever receive.
Forever yours,
Severus Snape
8. Damn. Damn. Damn.
A string of other profanities flew through Severus Snape’s head as he paced before his fireplace. Would he or wouldn’t he?
He glanced almost nervously at the clock. Twenty minutes past ten in the morning. They’d be well into the ceremony by now…he could see her; clad in ivory robes and reciting the lines that would bind her to the man standing opposite…getting closer and closer to the words that would pull her away from him forever.
He had been most displeased when he received her letter the day before. His plan had been to pursue her eventually. She would wait, he’d decided. She would just have to wait. If it was him, she would be prepared to wait a lifetime.
It had been a horrible jolt to his self-asserted logic when he received the short letter she had placed into his hands before leaving the castle.
Severus,
I have come to a few conclusions; either you’re completely blind, deaf and dumb, oblivious to my every attempt to catch your attention; you can’t make your mind up over whether I’m worth taking a risk for; or worse, but most likely, you want nothing to do with the ‘silly little Gryffindor haunting my classroom’.
9. She produces the note and lays it on her desk. She knows she shouldn’t read it and that it should be tossed into the wastepaper basket with Davis Finley’s attempt at an origami charm, but it’s far too late in the day, she is far too exhausted, and she is curious. She is in no mood to question moral boundaries and issues of privacy, although she does silently attribute her curiosity to the necessity of knowing whether there is a conspiracy going on in her classroom.
Satisfied with her reasoning, her fingers easily unfold the clumsily doubled parchment and she stretches it open, able to read the small, slightly messy script.
I know I shouldn’t be writing you a note like this and I know it’s probably foolish, but it’s the end of term and people tend to do stupid, regrettable, brave things before taking off for the summer holidays. I just wanted you to know, before the term ends and we go our separate ways for the summer, that I love you. I always have, and I think I always will.
Hermione leans back in her seat, chewing her lower lip as she re-reads the note.
10. Dear Severus,
I do hope you'll excuse the informal address. I debated for quite some time over how to begin this letter, and in the end, I decided that saving your life entitled me to at least that level of familiarity.
By now I'm sure you have come to the conclusion that the Malfoys actually do not know who I am. I made sure of this as much for my privacy as for yours. I would really rather not have to explain my actions to the Ministry, and I assumed you might rather disappear for a while than explain your survival. Either way, I wish for my identity to remain a secret, from you and the rest of the world, for several other reasons all my own.
My purpose in writing was not to reveal myself, but rather to wish you a very Happy Christmas. I hope that with the end of the war, you are able to find peace.
I'd also like to clear up any misunderstanding you may have had about my motives. When I found you near death, I helped you only because I knew of your service to our side. I do not consider there to be any debt between us.
Sincerely,
-
Severus looked up from the letter, frowning and not quite meeting any of the three gazes leveled at him.
"Well?"
This week's quiz was chosen by kribu who is obviously Snape's career counselor.
The first fangirl who posts a perfect score will get to choose the next quiz. The mail owl is waiting for your response!
Match the quote to the story title:
The Letter by alexa83
Letter of Mercy One Sunny Morning by foudebassan
In Annulo by ladyofthemasque
A Letter by Snape by averygoodun
To Be Lived by ladybirdington
Heavenly Angel by teshara WIP
Last Chance by DistinctVagueness
Against His Will by sophierom
Letter from Exile One Merciful Morning by Textualsphinx
It All Started With A Letter by daintress WIP
Love Letter by chivalric55
Who Are You? by Laiagarien
1. My dearest Ron,
If you read this, I must be dead. The charm on this parchment is meant to dissolve only when I disappear from this earth. It is a variant of the Do-Not-Notice spell I developed recently.
Let me explain. I have a secret to confess to you: one that will, I believe, ease your guilt on the Lavender front (yes, I know you two have been shagging for the last thirty years. I would have intervened to tell you it was all quite right, but I have a feeling you enjoy the secrecy.) Either way, do not fret over your affair. I have had less and less time to dedicate to us as a couple over the years, and I was happy to see you and Lavender get along so well. I never wanted you dissatisfied… But I digress.
It all began on the day of the final battle. Do you remember… I am sorry, of course you remember. That day is etched on all our souls, I daresay. On mine, on yours, on Harry’s. But we might not all recall the same things. Indeed, the intensity of the emotions - of the fighting - of the sudden deaths - it must be reflected in all our psyches. It might have coloured what memories we have of that fateful day.
2. I am not so foolish as to say love, because while I know a great deal more about you than the average student, I know better than to assume I know enough to profess my undying devotion.
Don't snort, Professor, it isn't dignified.
I am fairly certain you will write this off as a silly schoolgirl crush. But you should know that at least one student appreciates and respects the work that you have done…
And one woman sincerely cares about your happiness.
Hermione Granger
It was the last line that undid me.
I was unaffected by her melodramatic opening, untouched by her pathetic attempts at humor, utterly unmoved by her declaration of admiration. She was an eighteen-year-old Gryffindor who had stood alongside me on the battlefield; of course she mistook that fleeting moment of camaraderie as esteem, perhaps as something more.
I, however, was not so foolish as to believe that what had occurred on the streets of Hogsmeade that day was anything more than the release of long-held stress. The feeling of her body against mine, the brush of her fingers against the nape of my neck, the sensation of her lips on mine, it meant nothing, of course.
There were countless people embracing in the streets that day, people who had never cared a whit for each other the day before. We were simply two exhausted warriors, mindless in our relief. Absolutely mindless.
3. "Give it back to her, Ron. It’s a private letter."
"Not any more it isn’t. Her ‘private’ life has public effects. She won’t get away with it."
"I can be addressed directly, Ron."
"Fine! You want to know what’s it your letter? You can hear it. Out loud. Or I burn it with that fire spell of yours. "Fumos!" Blue flames appeared at the end of his wand. He stood like a sentinel, letter in one hand, flames in the other.
Dumbledore was not at breakfast. He hadn’t been at meals for several days. McGonagall had made the announcement - with severity and tact in equal measure. She moved swiftly to the Gryffindor table, but Hermione reached a decision first.
"Good! Read it out for everyone to hear. Let’s get it over with for once and for all. Drag me through the mud, snigger at my secrets and then we can all go home. I’ll even magnify your voice for you!" She chucked the spell at Ron’s throat.
4. Miss Granger,
I am well aware of the fact that this letter is inappropriate; still, I find it impossible not to write it.
I do apologise. You must be shocked that I put words to paper, words that will scandalise you, words I can't say aloud. I do not wish to scandalise you, but if I don't write down what I feel, the words will break me. My emotions will break me. And yes, I am well aware of how ridiculous that must sound to you as I know that you - like most people - consider me unable to have emotions at all.
To make this short: it seems I have developed certain feelings for you, despite the fact that you are engaged to Mr Weasley. I assure you that I fought against them with all my might. I tried to put them out of my mind. But I failed.
5. “A letter?” Hermione repeated, curiosity drawing her out of her grief. “From whom?”
“We’re not quite sure,” her father stated, coming back through the hallway, a folded scrap of parchment in his hand. “The outer letter was addressed to us. It said that we were to keep this for you, and to hand it to you directly, and not forward it on or anything.”
“Though we’re not sure why we couldn’t,” Daphne added dryly, lightly. “If we didn’t know where that cross-post station was, downtown, making it easy to send things between regular and wizarding mail, we’d never know how to call down one of your wizarding owls. Still, it’s rather nice to be able to do that.”
Taking the somewhat lumpy letter, Hermione turned it over in her hands, examining it. The handwriting was textbook-quality, suggesting some sort of copying spell. Someone didn’t want their handwriting recognized, perhaps? This one simply had her name scrawled across the front surface. No return address or anything. Wary, Hermione crossed to the breakfast nook, set the letter on the surface of the table, and prodded it with a couple of revelatory charms, delivered at wand-point. Nothing happened.
Still cautious, she popped open the unstamped seal, and unfolded the parchment, which had been turned into its own envelope. The inside of the letter was relatively short, rather shocking, and came with a smallish, golden circle. A ring, chased in a subtle, sinuous pattern of scales.
6. I loved you, Severus Snape. I only want to know whom I loved.
She got up and walked towards the fireplace. Tears wetted her cheeks and chin. She tended the fire until it blazed high. Satisfied, she rolled up the piece of parchment, blotted by her tears, and threw it in the fire.
The writing had drained her. She fell down in one of her low chairs by the fireside, letting her tears flow freely. So she sat for minutes, maybe hours, not counting time. The fire was burning low now. Suddenly a head appeared in the flames, blurred by her tears. Without the long beard, it was difficult to recognise Albus Dumbledore, but she did. She blinked, but the head did not go away. It spoke.
“Hermione,” it said. She flinched at the use of her given name, not something she was used to at Hogwarts. She had hoped he would call her that, once he had woken up, when she ran towards him during battle. Paying no heed to the danger for her own life, she had rushed towards the lifeless form of her Professor. They had stopped her, indeed. Hagrid had had to lift her off her feet to prevent her from running straight into Harry’s Crucio. Now, she wondered whether the Cruciatus Curse wouldn’t have been better than this. The Headmaster’s head had disappeared from the fire. Good. She wanted to be alone and think. Or not think at all…
7. I selfishly hope that you read this and shed a few tears for me, as I would hate to leave this earth with no mourners. If, by chance, you do mourn me and by some miracle have regrets of "what might have been," please remember that nothing would ever have happened had I lived. Death is a welcome chance for this declaration that I never would have taken in life. The hope that lets me rest, however, is that I did my best to help you live, and be who you are. Shine on, love, and be loved. Be yourself, for that is the most you could ever offer the world, and the most the world could ever receive.
Forever yours,
Severus Snape
8. Damn. Damn. Damn.
A string of other profanities flew through Severus Snape’s head as he paced before his fireplace. Would he or wouldn’t he?
He glanced almost nervously at the clock. Twenty minutes past ten in the morning. They’d be well into the ceremony by now…he could see her; clad in ivory robes and reciting the lines that would bind her to the man standing opposite…getting closer and closer to the words that would pull her away from him forever.
He had been most displeased when he received her letter the day before. His plan had been to pursue her eventually. She would wait, he’d decided. She would just have to wait. If it was him, she would be prepared to wait a lifetime.
It had been a horrible jolt to his self-asserted logic when he received the short letter she had placed into his hands before leaving the castle.
Severus,
I have come to a few conclusions; either you’re completely blind, deaf and dumb, oblivious to my every attempt to catch your attention; you can’t make your mind up over whether I’m worth taking a risk for; or worse, but most likely, you want nothing to do with the ‘silly little Gryffindor haunting my classroom’.
9. She produces the note and lays it on her desk. She knows she shouldn’t read it and that it should be tossed into the wastepaper basket with Davis Finley’s attempt at an origami charm, but it’s far too late in the day, she is far too exhausted, and she is curious. She is in no mood to question moral boundaries and issues of privacy, although she does silently attribute her curiosity to the necessity of knowing whether there is a conspiracy going on in her classroom.
Satisfied with her reasoning, her fingers easily unfold the clumsily doubled parchment and she stretches it open, able to read the small, slightly messy script.
I know I shouldn’t be writing you a note like this and I know it’s probably foolish, but it’s the end of term and people tend to do stupid, regrettable, brave things before taking off for the summer holidays. I just wanted you to know, before the term ends and we go our separate ways for the summer, that I love you. I always have, and I think I always will.
Hermione leans back in her seat, chewing her lower lip as she re-reads the note.
10. Dear Severus,
I do hope you'll excuse the informal address. I debated for quite some time over how to begin this letter, and in the end, I decided that saving your life entitled me to at least that level of familiarity.
By now I'm sure you have come to the conclusion that the Malfoys actually do not know who I am. I made sure of this as much for my privacy as for yours. I would really rather not have to explain my actions to the Ministry, and I assumed you might rather disappear for a while than explain your survival. Either way, I wish for my identity to remain a secret, from you and the rest of the world, for several other reasons all my own.
My purpose in writing was not to reveal myself, but rather to wish you a very Happy Christmas. I hope that with the end of the war, you are able to find peace.
I'd also like to clear up any misunderstanding you may have had about my motives. When I found you near death, I helped you only because I knew of your service to our side. I do not consider there to be any debt between us.
Sincerely,
-
Severus looked up from the letter, frowning and not quite meeting any of the three gazes leveled at him.
"Well?"