Mem Vs Mem(RESULTS) - Page 14

so wen will v hv the results?????
me wanna knw

disclamer>> same as the last two fics :P
fic name>>Sunrise
fic pairing>>Snape/Rita

authors comments in red

Rita Skeeter warily eyed the contraption on her desk with the apprehensive curiosity she normally reserved for writing Potter's latest attention seeking mission. The small silver box with the buttons and the circular glass lens looked interesting enough.

Had her photographer had half a brain, he would have known better than to attempt to use it to take compromising pictures of the female Quidditch players in the showers during Snape's watch, no matter what the other boys offered to pay him. But, alas, he was a Hufflepuff and they were not renowned for their intelligence. Rita's mouth twitched into what some might call a smile and others might call a painful facial spasm, as she remembered the look on the twit's face as she fired him. Had to, or else she would have been kicked out with him too.

*sigh*

It was these small pleasures that made her stay at Hogwarts worth her usual spying at the attention seeking potter. But on the down side, she had to borrow (which was equal to steal in her dictionary) Colin's mugglish camera, as it was important for her job. Had he cried like a little child crying when they loose their candy!

Rita never cared much for anything Muggle in nature. Except perhaps the few dozen or so novels she kept for nights she couldn't sleep. Or the cosmetic products that made her look five years younger than her actual age. No, Muggle items seemed quite pointless to the Daily Prophet Reporter, and the ridiculous looking box on her desk was no exception.

Wizard's cameras allowed the photographer to recreate an entire scene. Replicas of the individuals whose images it captured could wave and smile and interact with the person viewing the picture. All this Muggle device did was capture a simple still, and what good was that? Was a picture that could not move truly worth a thousand… anything? Rita thought haughtily. What could be so special about this apparatus that the Creevey boy would cry upon its removal? She picked it up and re-examined it. She would just have to find out for herself.

She carried the small camera in a specially conjured pocket in her most tight fitting robes, where she was sure no one would be able to detect it. She had never before felt compelled to explain her actions to anyone and had no desire to begin now. She went about her day as she normally would, being a little more observant to the world around her. When she stumbled upon a scene she found interesting, she positioned herself where she could not be observed and snapped a picture.

The number counter on the top of the gadget reached thirty six and the odd little camera stopped and made a strange whirring sound, achieving her a few odd looks from bewildered students. When she was back in the solitude of her room she placed the apparatus on her desk and gave it her most piercing glare - the one that only Snape was capable of giving to any innocent Hufflepuff, which would lead them to tears and make the Ravenclaw twitch for two days.

The camera was unaffected.

None of the buttons seemed to be working properly, and a light kept blinking on the top. Rita scowled at the seemingly poorly-manufactured instrument that appeared to be malfunctioning more and more with each passing second. With a quick tap of her wand and a quiet Alohomora, it sprang open. A brief inspection revealed a small cylindrical item that was nestled inside the camera's inner chamber. Written on the item was the word "film." A cursory glance at a few reference books explained that this was the component that actually held the images.

Rita was getting more intrigued by the moment.

She picked up the small cylinder and marveled. Even she had to give Muggles credit; they did manage to find ways around their lack of any real capability. Her reference materials revealed that she would have to send this film off for processing at a Muggle establishment. She would need an outside source. Though she was unsure, she could have sworn something that resembled anticipation coursed through her. She sent a surreptitious note to Juliana MacManus, her Muggle connection to all the items she would never admit to owning, and soon her film was off to have the images extracted.

After three days, a hearty looking barn owl arrived in the bustling Great Hall with a thick envelope in its talons. Everyone's attention was turned to Rita, who had never received a public owl before. She placed the envelope aside, acting as though it was nothing important, annoyed actually at having it in her possession at all. And, oh could she hear the golden Gryffindor trio actually suggesting that she must have received hate mail, hah! Only if they knew, sneered Rita. At the end of the meal she quietly rose, picked up the package as though an afterthought, and headed towards her private quarter. Once inside and alone, she tore the package open and scanned the images fascinatingly.

She groused at the odd angles of some and the poor lighting of others. One picture gave the Weasley girl red eyes, brighter than her ridiculous hair. Could the camera detect the remnants of demonic possession? she thought, aghast. Another photograph showed the Granger girl, her head cut off at the mouth. Could it read her mind and inner most fantasies? she considered, intrigued. Yet a third showed that brat Potter with his face twisted into the most unappealing grimace Rita had ever seen. Could this camera show a person's true nature? What sort of Dark Magic was this? she marveled, excited.

For the most part, she was ready to call the entire experiment a failure, when at the bottom of the pile she came across one snapshot that caught her attention. Albus Dumbledore was speaking to Professor Sprout just outside Greenhouse Seven. At first, there seemed to nothing special about the image, but Rita found herself mesmerized by it nonetheless. It was the only time in her recollection that the headmaster truly looked his age. Rita could clearly distinguish the lines that cut into his face and the sad glint in his crystal blue eyes. He looked tired. Fragile. He was the strongest wizard in the world, and he looked like he would crumble into dust.

Were this a wizard's photograph, the Dumbledore in the picture would be waving and giving that irritating smile he always gave when he chose to acknowledge your existence. But Dumbledore could not hide in the Muggle photograph. This one moment was captured for eternity, revealing everything he would have otherwise veiled from the rest of the world, because the rest of the world could never see that he was just a man. A tired, fragile, old man.

Rita stared at the picture for hours, examining every minute detail. The way Dumbledore's robe shimmered in the noon sun. The way Sprout's hair pointed out in odd angles, making her look slightly mad. The shadow of a passing bird that darkened the ground at their feet. A moment, frozen in time; preserved in this glossy paper for her eyes only. (okiee this is the part were I left for atleast three dayz… cause whenever we wud sit to write he wud start singing tht stupid song from HDKG)

Her mild curiosity grew into a healthy interest.

She wrote to Juliana asking for more of this wondrous film. For several weeks people complained of hearing odd clicking noises at the most peculiar times, to come out of nowhere. And once, Neville Longbottom could have sworn he heard a strange whirring sound from behind a suit of armor in the third floor corridor.

Rita reviewed the next sets of prints almost excitedly, and was actually more interested in something other than the systematic torturing of Harry Potter. She had managed to improve the angles of her shots, but the lighting still seemed off. No one's head was cut off, but several people still showed signs of demonic possession.

She decided to scan her pictures again, more carefully, looking to see she might have missed something. She noticed how the youngest Weasley boy would steal looks at the ever-rambling Granger when he thought no one would notice. In more than one shot she caught the Malfoy boy staring at Granger as well, and his face held neither anger nor annoyance. Quite the contrary. It was the same look Hagrid would give a pint of his favorite ale after not drinking for a month. It was indeterminable, however, if he was looking at Granger. It definitely held interesting possibility.

She continued inspecting the photos.

Potter looking defiant was no surprise, but Longbottom looking the same way was. Pavarti Patil staring moony-eyed at Justin Finch-Fletchley was expected, but Lavender Brown staring moony-eyed at… at… Sybil was not! Crabbe and Goyle holding hands under the Slytherin table? Rita quickly tore that one up. Some things were simply not meant to be seen. Ever.

Though her latest effort was worthy of some note, there was still much room for improvement. Rita Skeeter was not someone who would allow herself to be bested by an silly piece of Muggle technology. She could do better than this, she thought angrily. Perhaps some elementary research was in order.

* * *

Emelza (I like tht name :P) Pince eyed her suspiciously as she gathered the dozen reference books on photography from the 'Muggle Arts and History' section of her library. Rita only ever came to the library to scan the the various wizarding news papers, and she had never actually left with a book before. If she didn't know better, she could have sworn she actually said, "Thank you," when she got her the materials she asked for. She made a note to speak to the headmaster at once. Something was obviously amiss. 'Polyjuice?' she wondered. Or perhaps she had finally gone off the deep end and was clinically insane. Sometimes the most obvious answer is the correct one. She shrugged before turning abruptly to shush some rowdy third-years.

* * *

She was about to set her wand to burn the entire pile of the books she had borrowed to ashes, when her eyes stopped on small booklet entitled, "Choosing the Proper Equipment: The Beginners Guide to Photography." She slowly reached for it and began to read.

Two weeks later, four owls came into the Great Hall during lunch, jointly carrying a rather large box and heading directly for the Reporter.

The package was gently placed before her and without so much as a word to anyone else sitting at the table, she paid the owls and levitated the box out of the hall, through courtyard, down the dungeon corridor and into her quaters. (yeah, she is staying near Snape… mwahahaha)

* * *

One month later, Rita Skeeter was in her darkroom developing her latest set of photographs when an odd noise distracted her. Though a quick inspection of the room established she was most assuredly alone, the odd sort of humming persisted. Humming? Dear Merlin, it was coming from her. She was humming. Luckily, she was alone. There could be no witnesses to that sort of thing.

There were witnesses, however. Weekss since she insulted Granger's love life or Potter's ability. The entire school was left wondering what had happened to the writer of all those gossipy columns, for she seemed to have vanished.

* * *

There was a running bet in the Gryffindor common room as to what was happening to Rita Skeeter. Parvati Patil surmised that Rita was in love, because only true love could change a person so much. Ronald Weasley asserted that perhaps she had just grown tired of the artificial frony she had prodused and was finally just letting loose. Harry Potter contended that she had finally fallen off the deep end and had gone clinically insane. Sometimes the most obvious answer is the correct one.

The debate raged on not only in the common rooms but in the professors staff room too. The only one who didn't have an opinion was Severus Snape. Snape was quiet these days, content to just watch while others tried to comprehend the incomprehensible. Rita Skeeter was sociable, they said. But the fact of the matter was she was never around. She rushed through meals and hardly spoke to anyone.

Some considered it a great improvement.

But not Severus Snape. Though Rita seemed to be in an approachable enough mood, Snape's heightened senses could detect a faint chemical scent coming from her clothes (we needed that! But he is a potions professor too, so…). It was nothing he had come across before. Despite what the others said aloud, he was aware of what they really thought, and the aroma wafting from Rita's robes were not of plants or herbs or potions ingredients. His curiosity was provoked (lets just think he never heard the saying curiosity killed the cat, cause he is a bat!); it was time to pay the reporter a visit.

Snape made his way to Rita's private quarters, which was right next to his, bearing a bottle of merlot and a pleasant smile (try imagining that!). Though on the outside he was the picture of calm, inwardly he was nervous. He and Rita never got on well, though she had once tried but he had messed it up (cause he was a fool :P). He really couldn't blame Rita, with their mutual history being so confused. But after decades, one would think she would want to bury the hatchet in something other than Snape's forehead. He hoped so, at least (he is any romantic yet??).

He was about to knock on the door when it swung open before him. Rita Skeeter was rushing out, clumsily buttoning her robes (get your mind out of wherever it went :P). The air was full of the now familiar scent of chemicals Snape had sensed for weeks. "What are you doing here?" Rita practically growled.

"Just thought I'd come bearing a peace offering and to see how you were doing," Snape replied softly (heehee).

Snape knew that Rita had promised the headmaster she would do her best to, oh, how did she phrase it - "not hex the greasy haired professor." Despite that, he expected Rita to give her usual disdainful comment as she did at every opportunity since her stay for the three wizard tournament. But Rita stood quietly staring at Snape, almost puzzled. It was an odd sensation to Snape, but he could have sworn he was being scrutinized by those light grey eyes, as if she was looking at something she had never seen before. And then, just as suddenly, she snapped out of her trance.

"I have been called to attend to a matter with the head of the Daily Prophet. You may enter and wait for me in the parlor if you wish, but you are not to leave the parlor or enter any other room. Am I understood?"

She spoke in a manner that suggested to Snape that if he did not comply with the rules, he would be dealt with by the most unpleasant method that Rita could imagine. And Rita was the imaginative sort (u read her articles naa??). He gave a small nod and said, "Of course," as he entered.

Rita left immediately, and almost just as quickly the part of Snape's brain that was mostly a secret lover (tee hee RotFL) took over. He was alone, in Rita's private chambers (ooo lala), for an unknown amount of time. He was only trying to find out what was wrong with Rita after all. Who would see fault in that? (I would ;) )

A quick search of the parlor disclosed nothing. But he caught a whiff of that damned chemical lingering in the air. Like a resolute bloodhound, he followed it through a long corridor to a formidable looking door. He opened it, unsure of what he would find, but never expecting in a million years to see what he saw.

The room was full of equipment. Muggle equipment. This would explain the rather enormous boxes that flew into the Great Hall (aint he smart??) for Rita several times a week. Half a dozen different types of cameras and an unbelievable amount of their accessories littered the room.

His curiosity getting the better of him, he began to have a look around (the bat he is). The walls held pinned up photographs that Snape assumed Rita had taken. One of Dumbledore talking to Sprout. One of Madame Hooch flying. One of three cats playing by the lake. One of Professor Flitwick levitating himself while trying to reach a book on a high shelf. Several of the castle and the grounds at different times of the day. One of a herd of centaurs talking at dusk. One of the giant squid, whose tentacles were raised out of the water as if in greeting. There was even a few of Harry and his friends playing Quidditch and almost looking their age; looking younger, in fact, than Snape had ever remembered seeing them. He was surprised to discover that these pictures were actually very good. Beautiful, even.

Had Rita truly taken them? With these Muggle tools?

He turned his attention to two bookshelves that appeared to be completely brand new. One was full of reference books on photography, all Muggle in origin. The other had several leather-bound albums. Impeccable and meticulously displayed, each volume had a title embossed in bronze lettering on the spine.

Rita seemed to have categorized the photos by theme. Okay, so this was obviously a relatively new hobby, Snape ascertained, guessing this hobby probably started about the time Rita started her vanishing act.

Snape continued to examine the photo library. An entire row was attributed to students. "Adolescent Amusements" had photos of Quidditch games and chess matches. Of students running in the courtyard and playing cards. The chess matches were shot from several different points of view, including overhead shots of the boards. You could see the looks of concentration on the players' faces and feel their nerves as they reached for queen or pawn. In one picture, Snape could see a fallen queen reflected in a competitor's glasses.

The next album was entitled, "To Toil and Seek," and was made of up students working. Reading under the trees or studying in classrooms or researching in the library. Hermione walking, while balancing a stack of books taller than she was, brought a sneer to Snape's face. Hannah Abbot mixing potion ingredients that's in my classroom, now when had she been there?? Blaise Zabini charting constellations.

The next row on the same shelf was dedicated to the Hogwarts staff: in the staff room could an outsider enter it?? Refereeing Quidditch matches, teaching, laughing in the corridors, drinking at the Three Broomsticks. Some were funny, like a red-faced Hagrid giving a redder-faced Minerva a peck on the cheek. Some were interesting, like Professor Sinistra conjuring a constellation and holding it between her cupped hands, the glow resonating off her face. Some were touching, like Madame Pomfrey comforting a home-sick first-year. Some were sad, like Filch drinking alone, his cat curled on his lap (serves him right :P). Some were of that buffoon Moody limping around.

These photos displayed a range of emotions Snape never thought the reporter possessed. They were beautiful and wistful, sometimes inspiring, sometimes thought-provoking, and nothing at all like Rita Skeeter. At least the Rita Skeeter he thought he knew.

There were a few volumes entitled, "Concepts of Self," which showed Rita attempting to photograph herself. The first few were pathetic; odd angles, cut off heads, blurred shots. Oddly enough, Rita kept all the attempts, almost as if she was keeping a record of her progression. As Snape continued to scan he found the pictures got increasingly better and more creative. Shots taken with mirrors, reflections in bottles, a shot of her robes floating in the air without the benefit of a body. There was one where Rita's image was distorted in a puddle of spilt water.

Through all these prints, Snape could see the beginning attempts and how greatly Rita had improved in what was probably just a few months. Some rather clumsy endeavors quickly progressed to some rather stunning photographs. It was illuminating, to say the least.

A thought came to him. He picked out a few random albums and flipped through the pages. He furrowed his brow and picked up a few more. There was not one picture of himself anywhere to be found. There were pictures of students and faculty, of ghosts and house elves, of flora and fauna, but not one of the potions master. It saddened him some. He thought they had at least moved past this open animosity. Or, at least, hoped they had. (aww, love sick… snapey poo, I pity him… I actually thought of changing the plot here)

Snape longed to talk to Rita about her new hobby. How did she discover it? What motivated her? How did she choose what to photograph? Everything and everyone. What not to photograph? Him. (lol)

He realized with a start he had been looking in this room for two hours. Deciding he was already in danger of getting caught, he left, although very unwillingly. He left a note with the bottle of untouched wine on the small table by Rita's armchair and departed. For the life of him, he couldn't remember what he originally thought had happened to Rita to change her so much, but whatever it was, there was something obviously very wrong. He did know one thing for sure, however -

At some point Rita's newest hobby became an unrelieved obsession.

* * *

Snape became more aware of Rita over the next few days, looking for her at every corner, stopping by her quarter, trying to sit next to her at meals. He wanted desperately to "accidentally" run into her while taking one of her photographs. Every time he heard the rustling of leaves behind him, or thought he felt eyes gazing upon him, he would turn abruptly and search, hoping to catch a glimpse of light grey eyes. In truth, he thought he must be a little obsessed himself, because since he had seen Rita's picture albums, he could swear he was being followed and photographed. He sighed when he realized that this couldn't be. There was not one picture of him in all the albums he saw, he reminded himself. Not one. (lol)

Despite that cold fact, Snape couldn't stop thinking about Rita's photos and what they revealed about that woman. Snape wanted to find out about this other Rita, the one who looked at the world through a camera lens and saw things in ways that showed the truths we often ignore and often overlook.

Snape found himself walking around and framing shots in his head. Everything became a picture in his mental photo album. It was odd how different everything looked when observed that way, when one picks a scene or a moment to focus on and blocks out the rest of world. He wanted to learn more. To see more. He wanted to understand. Every night, since he stumbled into Rita's private haven, he wanted to go back. He longed to look at the pictures again. Soon enough, he would get his chance. (yay!)

Despite all her efforts to avoid any prolonged contact with everyone, Rita would be out this evening monitoring the task. Harry had been heard complaining about it all day, who quickly realized this was his chance. Underneath a borrowed invisibility cloak, he waited in the corridor for Rita to exit her quarters. When she finally emerged, a dung bomb conveniently exploded at the far end of the passageway. Rita turned and ran to the end of the hall leaving her door wide open. While Rita was distracted by the blast, Snape sneaked into the parlor and stood motionless in the corner next to a desk. Rita returned, muttering something about indiscipline, and slammed her door shut.

Several minutes passed while Snape waited silently. Finally feeling it was safe, he removed his cloak and started down the corridor. He was halfway down when he heard someone fidgeting with the wards on the parlor door. Someone was coming in who sounded remarkably like Rita. In a panic, Snape entered the first door he came to and crouched in a corner, shutting his eyes and listening nervously. After what seemed like an eternity, Rita retrieved whatever she had forgotten and left, slamming the door again. Breathing a sigh of relief, Snape finally opened his eyes. To his disbelief, he found he was in Rita's bedroom! (lolz!)

There was an ongoing bet as to what Rita kept in here. Minevra insisted she kept Books on how embarrass people and other implements of torture. Filius insisted it was all purple with mirrors on the ceiling…and full of books on how to embarrass people and other implements of torture. Iva (I like tht name too :P) Hooch was certain she kept her least favorite Harry Potter's future disgracing reports there …as well as books on how to embarrass people and other implements of torture.

Snape was wondering if he should tell them how wrong they were. The furnishings were simple and very elegant; the bedclothes were light yellow, but also red and amber, like a warm autumn day. There were no books on how to embarrass people to speak of. There was nothing noteworthy- except a bookshelf and a dozen photo albums.

Bookshelves in the bedroom?? Snape's eyebrows went straight up. He walked over to the volumes apprehensively. They all had the same title, "Secret Love" Who could be the person that Rita Skeeter would devote hundreds and hundreds of photos to? As much as Snape wanted to find out he couldn't bring himself to look.

This felt like an intrusion. Were this his own bedroom and his private albums, and someone going through them, he would be enraged. It was like sneaking a peek at a diary. It was personal, intimate. These particular albums were so personal in fact, that Rita excluded them from the others; so personal that she viewed them in her bedroom. (lol)

There was plenty of empty space on the shelves in the room Snape had discovered previously. It had only been three weeks; surely Rita had not taken enough pictures to fill up that space. These pictures had to have a special significance to her.

Snape pulled back and stepped away from the bookshelves. It was bad enough he had sneaked in to this room, and bad enough he was going to look through Rita's things, but this was wrong - more wrong, anyway, and he couldn't live with himself. He stood looking at the albums and dropped his head forward. Running his hand through his hair, he sighed and shook his head in defeat. He turned to leave, when-

"You've come this far," said a sullen voice. "Why stop now?"

Snape whipped his head around to find Rita Skeeter standing in the doorway. Snape was a little more than surprised that flames weren't shooting out of her head. On the contrary, her expression was calm, and somehow very sad, as if she was going to loose something very special to her forever.

"Rita," Snape replied in a breathy voice, "I wasn't…I mean I was, but I didn't…I couldn't-"

"You're probably wondering how this all started…" she began talking, walking over to the shelves and pulling out the first volume. "Truth be told, I'm not really sure myself."

Her voice was distant, distracted, detached. Snape wondered who she was talking to; perhaps insanity was not so far-fetched a consideration after all.

Rita just continued talking into the air. "I'm not very good with people…well, that is the understatement of the century, I suppose." She gave a small laugh. "I haven't liked getting close, too much of a possibility of getting attached and that can never lead to anything good... since you know…"

She sat down on the edge of the bed with the book held closed on her lap.

"It's odd, taking pictures. You are far removed from everyone, nothing more than an observer really. Detached from everything, yet somehow, still a part of it all. This silly piece of machinery allows me to be part of people's lives and still be completely safe from any personal involvement. It is a… a personal space… It is an addicting hobby, to say the least. Once I started, I couldn't stop. I'm not used to losing control… my temper, of course, but not my mind… I never lost focus before." She paused only to sigh. "But then, quite unexpectedly, during my eagerness to take pictures of everything, I saw something I had not intended to see." She opened the album on her lap and took out a single photo. "I was photographing the dawn on a particularly bright and colorful morning when my camera captured an image I had not realized until after I developed the film."

She held the picture out to Snape.

It was a stunning picture of the sunrise. The sky was awash in red and blue and yellow. Though a beautiful picture, he could not understand what Rita had wanted him to see. His eyes flickered over to Rita who sat quietly looking at her hands. Too afraid to ask what he should be looking for, Snape scanned the picture until something caught his eye. On the terrace of the Astronomy Tower, a lone figure was perched, watching the sun rise. It was someone Snape knew rather well.

"I hadn't realized I photographed you when I took this picture. It was only until afterwards that I saw it…that I saw you. I went back the next morning and you were there again in the exact same spot, the exact same pose, the exact same expression on your face. I went for a third time the next day and there you were again. And every subsequent morning, like clockwork, there you were, sitting still and watching the sunrise. And each time, I took a picture."

She handed Snape the album and he thumbed through it. Page after page of him sitting on his spot, watching the sunrise; nothing spectacular about the shots with the exception of the quantity. It looked to be a couple of months worth of stills. Toward the end, the pictures moved closer to the spot where he sat, so they weren't pictures of the tower anymore, but of Snape himself.

"There is fear in your eyes when you look at the dawn. Did you know that? Fear and hope and anger and sadness and joy. I had never seen so many emotions evoked at the same time. I didn't think it was possible to feel all those things at once. They all contradicted each other, yet they all made sense. You should be feeling all those things. It was normal. It is…human."

Snape was certain Rita wasn't talking to him anymore - if she was ever talking to him at all. She obviously needed to get these words out, so Snape allowed her to do so undisturbed, quietly watching Rita's confession.

"I'm not sure when this little recreation of mine turned into something else. But I found the more I saw, the more I wanted to see. So I began taking even more pictures. But no matter what I photographed, none of the pictures held as much interest for me as those in that album. I needed to see more."

She was silent for a while and Snape wondered if he was supposed to be saying or doing something. More what? he wondered. He turned to the albums on the shelf, and without knowing why, he retrieved one and began looking. It was full of pictures of him.

Severus Snape teaching. Severus Snape reading. Severus Snape eating. Severus Snape talking to Draco Malfoy. Severus Snape tutoring Draco Malfoy. Severus Snape sharing a drink with Dumbledore. Severus Snape writing a note. Severus Snape nodding at Professor McGonagall. Severus Snape sitting with Professor Flitwick. Pages and pages and book after book, full of photos of himself, never knowing he was being watched, being examined, being studied. Over a dozen albums in this bookshelf and they all contained pictures of him.

And then it dawned on him. The photography wasn't the obsession anymore, the potions professor was. He didn't know what to say.

"I realized you must have deduced something the other night, because since then it has been impossible to get a clear shot of you. You seemed to be looking for me. You seemed to always know I was around. I must say I am somewhat relieved. If you hadn't discovered me, I'm not sure how long I would have continued in this way. I apologize for stalking you, and I ask that you keep this information to yourself, if for no other reason than your honor and my privacy."

She got up. "I trust you can see yourself out."

She made to pass Snape, but a hand tenderly touching her shoulder stopped her.

"Rita," whispered Snape in a soft, sad voice as they faced each other. Snape looked at her appraisingly. Rita was not good at losing control like this. It confused him. It terrified him. Suddenly everything that made up his reality was not real anymore. He had to face the fact that the world is not as he always believed.

And there was this potions professor she had hated for decades because he had stomped on her feelings, made fun of her emotions as if he had none. But her own hands, her own eyes, showed her this potions master had the emotions of a man. He was a man. Not a heartless slytherin she thought him to be when in school, but a man. Human. And how could she be asked to handle that as well? The world around her was not what she thought it was. It had been forever changed by a small silver box with buttons and a circular glass lens.

Once changed, it could not change back.

No, Rita was not used to losing control. And it showed in a normally acidic voice that now sounded lost, in a normally confident demeanor that now seemed broken, in normally cold grey eyes that now seemed not to want to see anything anymore because they had already seen too much.

Snape had been looking for those grey eyes for weeks, looking for them because he hoped Rita would see him as she saw others - the others she photographed. To deem him worthy of preservation in her personal visual journal. He realized at this moment that Rita had already seen him, that she had seen him in ways no one else had ever tried to. And now, a man and a woman who had explored each other's souls were seeing each other for the very first time.

Without saying anything further, Snape leaned in and gently pressed his lips against Rita's. He pulled back and surveyed the reporter's expression, looking for permission to continue. He got it in the form of a smile - a genuine smile. Not needing further encouragement, he brought his hand up to Rita's chin and stroked it gently before reaching behind her neck and pulling her closer.

Rita couldn't deny that as much gratification she got from her last hobby, this new one had much potential. Bearing witness to the world though a lens might have been a safe way to be a part of life, but it didn't make her blood burn in her veins. It didn't make her dizzy with emotion and need. It certainly didn't feel this good.

Snape finally pulled away, his breathing fast and deep. "It's getting late," he said, "but I don't want to leave."

"So don't Sev" was the silken reply.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he said nervously. "I think you and I have stumbled onto something here, something neither one of us expected."

She gave a crooked smile. "We are not children, Sev. We have known each other for decades."

And Snape smiled back. "But we've only discovered each other tonight."

She brought her hand up to Snape's face and trailed her fingers slowly down his face, across his cheek and over his lips. "I think we discovered each other a long time ago, but circumstances being what they were, we were unable to do anything about it." Severus leaned in and placed a small kiss on the lips.

And, for the first time in two decades, two figures perched on the astronomy tower, watching the sunrise.

y does it look so long here 😛

y arent pple voting??????? 😒

neways......its their choice 😊 .....ll post the reults tonight......

though i knw both of thm deserve to win..........
👏

I can'tdecide between any of them 😭 😭 but still I will vote 😊 .May the best one win 😃

o hoi!
the voting cant end unless... a certain ashi rocks AKA harsha comes up and tells she is done voting...

till then u can enjoy my not so enjoyable SNAPE and RITA fic 😳

omg alia. its soo gud 😃 and i really loved ur comments in red 😆 esp crabbe n goyle holding hands 😆

OMG!!!!!!

its gr8 tht u actually rote a rite/snapr fic!!!!!!

it was awesum and it dus luk lyk it wud hv taken u a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG tym

cos u made snape a pleasent man and made me bliv it too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

u shud strt a fanfic of ur own!!!!!!!!!!!!

Originally posted by: ashi_rox

omg alia. its soo gud 😃 and i really loved ur comments in red 😆 esp crabbe n goyle holding hands 😆

😆
actually when he suggested tht, i was like huh? guyz dont catch hands??

😆😆😆
then when i finally got it i was like 😳 and he started laughing😭

Originally posted by: vaish_ashiyuvi

OMG!!!!!!

its gr8 tht u actually rote a rite/snapr fic!!!!!!

it was awesum and it dus luk lyk it wud hv taken u a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG tym

cos u made snape a pleasent man and made me bliv it too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

u shud strt a fanfic of ur own!!!!!!!!!!!!

😳thanks😃