Author's Note: I like Ron and I like Hermione. I don't like Ron/Hermione. I especially don't like the way mutual annoyance, bickering, and occasional violence are supposedly indications of their secret passionate feelings.

After all, by that logic...

"SNAPE!"

The man in question jerked and spilled ink all over a third-year Hufflepuff's essay as Potter barged into his office. (Fortunately, the essay was of such poor quality that the illegibility probably improved it.) "Ten points from Gryffindor," he said, not bothering to look up. "Now, get out of my office."

"I know why you have such a grudge against me!" the brat continued furiously. "The real reason! Not what I got told back in first year!"

Snape closed his eyes. He hoped Dumbledore hadn't actually told him the rea-

"It's because of your frustrated love!"

...on second thought, he would quite happily put the Headmaster out of his misery. Later this evening. With his bare hands.

"For my father!"

For a moment, Snape wondered if he'd lost his hearing. It was that, or he'd lost his mind. Or perhaps Potter, never the brightest, had flubbed his wording in his passion. It had to be...

"James Potter!"

...Correction: Potter had lost his mind. "What?"

"You two must have been in love, but you shouting 'Mudblood' ended that and he married my mum instead!" Potter continued, coming dangerously close to the truth and yet gloriously, painfully missing. Snape could only compare it to daydreaming of someone 'tall, cool, and good at kissing', and winding up on a blind date with a Dementor. "You hate me because I remind you of what you could have had!"

Uncomfortably accurate, but fortunately wedded to utter psychosis. "Potter, whatever gave you the idea that I had any feelings for your worthless father other than abject loathing?" Snape sneered, not having to force the incredulity in his voice. "We were enemies practically from the instant we met!"

"Don't think I can't see through that!" Potter declared, wild-eyed. "The way the two of you fought-"

"We all but tried to kill each other!"

"Yes! Precisely! And that's how I know the two of you were in love!"

He could do nothing but stare. "Potter," he said eventually, "get out of my office. And stop by the Hospital Wing while you're at it." It had to be the Quidditch. Too many Bludgers to the head...

"You think I'm just a stupid kid," Potter said, breathing heavily. "But I know better. I've seen Ron and Hermione going at it! It's proof of their love! And you and my dad were even worse, and -" He stopped and stared, eyes round. "You and Sirius," he said in horror. "I never guessed. I -"

"Potter, I wouldn't touch Black with a cauldron-full of Amortentia down my gullet." The mere idea of snogging Black should act as sufficient emetic to regurgitate the entire dose, for one.

"No, you wouldn't need it," Potter said, with such knowing condescension that, for the first time all year, Snape could truly believe Dumbledore was tutoring him. The absolute lunacy of the remark added that extra touch of authentic Dumbledorist thought. "You must have been just like the two of them. God, was he jealous of you and Voldemort?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, I mean, since you were spending all that time spying," Potter said in a low voice. "I've seen it... The way Hermione sneered at Ron and Lavender... Bloody hell, he took weeks to heal from the birds..." Potter blinked. "Wait, is that why Sirius pulled that prank on you when you were in school? Was he getting jealous of you spending too much time with the Death Eater crowd?"

Perhaps Potter had decided that becoming an Auror would take too much work and had instead elected to prepare for a job at The Quibbler. If so, he was showing a remarkable aptitude for living up to that paper's fine standards of veracity; as usual for Potter, however, he fell a little short. No vast Ministry conspiracy, exotic interspecies breeding, or secret love-children of Dumbledore and Grindelwald? It was almost as though he were still trying to maintain a relationship with reality, long after reality had cut all contact, moved away, and begun to live under an assumed identity. "Potter, if your friends remind you in any way of my relationship with Black, I advise separating them before there's a murder."

"No, it's just because they care about each other," Potter said solemnly. "That's why they fight so much."

"I am sure they quite passionately care about each other-"

"I knew it!"

"- in the sense of passionately wishing to attend each others' funerals." Snape cleared his throat. "Potter, have you ever actually seen a romantic relationship in your life? It was my impression -" -though he hated that he knew about such trivialities; curse adolescents and their idiotic, incessant gossip- "-that you were in one."

"Well, everyone says it's like I'm dating my mother," Potter said vaguely. "So it's different."

"When did you break up with Weasley for Granger?"

"What?" Now it was Potter's turn to be incredulous. "I'm dating Ginny! Fiery redhead, you know? She's just like my mother! And before that, she was kind of my little sister, so..." Potter had the grace to briefly look disturbed. "Er, that sounds rather wrong, doesn't it. The Weasleys aren't that sort of Pureblood family, though." He scowled at Snape. "But whatever made you think of Hermione?"

Brilliant, hot-tempered, domineering Muggleborn... Why, nothing, Potter, nothing at all... "Never mind that, Potter. But surely you aren't attempting to murder each other on a daily basis?"

"Well, I mean, it's only Hermione who attacked Ron. He's more laid-back. He just insults her." Potter nodded. "But that's just them attempting to get each others' attention. You know, like you and my dad. And you and Sirius." Potter looked at him askance. "There's something really wrong with you, Snape," Potter said firmly. "Two-timing my dad? Really? And with his best friend?"

He would not even dignify that with a response. "Violence and contempt are actually not an integral part of any romance, Potter. If you seriously see a resemblance, separate them immediately. By force, if need be. They are not 'in love'. They are not even... Come to think of it, Potter, do you actually realize that two people being your friends does not necessarily imply that they are friends with each other?"

"What? Of course they are. Best friends. We fought a troll in first year and everything. And, more than that, Hermione does all Ron's homework."

Alas, an exaggeration. If only she did. Tragically, he was quite certain that Weasley wrote the vast majority of his own essays. Moreover, so did Potter. While Granger's ponderous style was a fantastic soporic, it had never given him violent, burning, stabbing pains in his eyeballs before the completion even of the first paragraph. "Ah, yes, the doing of homework. Never has brave knight pledged such tribute to fair lady. Or the other way around, I suppose, in this case. To slay a dragon, to thwart a sorcerer, to carry forth from captivity - none of this can compare to the marvelous act of love of... doing homework."

Come to think of it, in that case, Lily had been carrying on passionate affairs with most of the Gryffindor girls in her year, and a few of the Hufflepuff ones. Even the occasional Ravenclaw. Hm... that was a much more interesting line of thought than himself and Black...

Wait, by that logic, he would have spent his school years carrying on passionate affairs with the majority of Slytherin House. Ugh. Never mind.

"You'd have to see them to understand," Potter said crossly. "But I can't expect you to understand. Obviously your feelings died with my dad. And then, um, you had a resurgence with Sirius, I guess, but then they died again after... he did." Potter swallowed hard. "So you just don't understand love. Just like Voldemort. I almost pity you," he said, again breaking into fine Dumbledorian condescension. "You can't understand what you're missing. If only you knew what it was like to connect, really connect - like conjured canaries connecting with your face - then you'd understand-"

Potter's gasp of horror gave Snape a brief hope he had come to his senses. Alas, said hope was murdered in the most brutal way possible a second later.

"That's it! You've been like that to me all along!" Potter's eyes were as large as Galleons. "You're not jealous of my looking like my dad! You want me to replace him! Since I was eleven, you sick git! Eleven! You've been bickering with me all that time! And - all along - all of this - the detentions - the demerits - the - the - It's all been - You've just wanted me to notice you - It's all been to make me go on a date -"

"POTTER, OUT OF MY OFFICE, NOW!"