Disclaimer: Don't own them. Much to their relief, I'm sure.

A/N: This short story is in response to a "Snapey Valentine" challenge on the Muffliato facebook page. The prompt was to write the contents of a Valentines card FROM an assigned canon character TO Severus. It can be filled with genuine affection, sarcasm, a to-do list, a mean prank, etc. So here goes...

-The Worst Day-

Severus Snape took in a steadying breath before dropping into his chair at the Head Table. Discounting Halloween for obvious reasons, Valentine's Day was his least favorite day. If there was anything worse than attempting to keep a classroom of teenagers from blowing themselves and their neighbors to smithereens, it was attempting to do so when they had the promise of candy, flowers, and romance further diminishing their tiny attention spans.

He hated the day so much that it took every ounce of his being to force himself out of his quarters. If he had been a lesser man, he would have holed up in his study with a bottle of booze, cancelled classes, and told the world to fuck the fuck off. Unfortunately, he knew how the tongues would wag - student and staff alike - as they sought to describe just how sad and pathetic the Potions Master's life really was.

"So, Severus," Minerva quipped with a waggle of her eyebrows, "any interesting prospects for this evening?"

"You mean besides ripping apart sugar-induced, hormone-driven students?" he sneered grumpily. "What else could I possibly wish for?"

Pomona tittered quietly as she sipped her morning tea. "Oh, I have a feeling that the hourglasses are going to take a massive hit before dawn."

"Indeed," the wizard grumbled, stabbing his sausage with far more force than necessary. For several minutes, he contented himself with glaring out at the student body, and when the owls arrived in greater numbers than usual, he audibly groaned.

"Perhaps there's something for you," Sprout smiled, patting his shoulder.

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The Hufflepuff Head shrugged her shoulders. "Stranger things have happened."

Snape was in the middle of glaring at his colleague when a handful of pink-hued scrambled eggs suddenly launched themselves at his person.

"Oh, would you look at that!" Pomona cried, attracting the attention of the rest of the elderly women nearby.

The Slytherin scowled at the bright pink envelope in the middle of his breakfast plate.

"So you do have an admirer!" Minerva crooned, leaning forward to peer past Professors Sprout and Babbling. "And just who is your lucky Valentine, hmm?"

Muttering bitterly under his breath, the dark-haired wizard withdrew his wand and quickly scanned the item for dark magic or hexes, much to the delight of his female coworkers. Finding none, he snatched up the envelope and stared for several seconds at his name penned in a flowery script. As there appeared to be no clues as to the identity of the sender, he pinched his lips together and then cast a dark glare toward the nosy biddies until they all looked away and sighed.

After tapping his fingertips against the edge of the table, he rolled his eyes and ripped open the ghastly envelope. Stifling a cough at the invisible cloud of perfume that seemingly attacked him, Severus cautiously pulled out the folded parchment contained within it. He briefly glanced at his colleagues and, sensing their still heightened level of interest, turned his upper body just enough to prevent any bystanders from reading over his shoulder.

Dearest Severus…

Well, that was certainly peculiar. The only one who had ever addressed him as such had been his mother, and she certainly could not have produced such elaborate penmanship. She could hardly produce her own name at present. Attempting to erase the image of his mother mumbling to herself in the corner when he had last visited his aunt Ellspeth, Snape cleared his throat and returned his focus to the note.

Dearest Severus,

While I must confess that I never envisioned doing so, I find myself growing suddenly bold in anticipation of the St. Valentine's celebrations. Perhaps I may find that you are not as opposed to my position as I initially feared. As such, I have taken a chance in the hopes that you may reward my courage with a night so magical that neither of us shall forget it…

His eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline as he gripped onto the parchment tighter.

…You may be hesitant to believe it, but I have always found myself inexpressibly intrigued by you. You exude such power with your very presence that it nearly brings me to my knees. Your dark gaze seems to pierce my very soul, and your voice… Oh, your voice is like velvet that slowly cascades down my body, stimulating every nerve ending until I feel as though I'm burning from the inside out…

Severus swallowed slowly as he suddenly felt quite warm in his woolen robes.

… What started as innocent speculation has only grown into a raging inferno of desire for you. I cannot manage a single day without thinking of you. I cannot sleep a full night without dreaming of you. I often wake desperate for some meager measure of relief from the yearning that threatens to consume me. I scream your name into the dark as I repeatedly bring myself to completion, but I know that it would pale in comparison to the euphoria that you could give me. It's what I visualize every night while I lay atop my bed in naught but lace knickers – emerald green, of course, for you, my dear Slytherin – but I can only imagine that reality would shatter all expectations of fantasy. I want to know you. I want to know your touch. I want to know how it feels to be entirely at your mercy… to have your hot flesh upon my own… to have your mouth upon my breast… to have your fingers digging into my hips as you tirelessly pound your magnificent cock into my tight, dripping…

"Everything alright, Severus?"

The wizard snapped his gaping mouth shut and flicked his gaze to the portly witch beside him. "Pardon?"

Pomona gestured to the piece of parchment in his hands. "In sixteen years I've never seen you react in such a manner to the post. Is everything alright?"

"Fine," he mumbled, shifting in his chair. "Everything's… fine."

"Well, then …"

Though the witch continued chattering, he tuned her out entirely. His heart pounded faster as it rapidly began pumping blood to his most neglected – and suddenly quite interested – organ, and his eyes desperately sought to find the point at which they had been so rudely interrupted.

… tirelessly pound your magnificent cock into my tight, dripping sex. I want you to dominate me, to take me from behind, to fuck me until I collapse into the mattress and come so violently that I can no longer manage speech. I want to taste my own desire on your pulsing cock, to pleasure you with my mouth until you finally lose control, to have you fist your hands in my hair as you coat the back of my throat with your hot seed, to savor it as though it were a precious delicacy, to…

Don't tell me you've come in your trousers already, Severus…

"What?" he growled, staring down at the parchment as every delicious word suddenly disappeared only to be replaced by a familiar, masculine script.

… I do so hope that you've read this while sitting at the Head Table. It would bring me immeasurable joy to know that you were on full display of the Great Hall…

"Son-of-a-bitch," he hissed.

… I would offer an apology, of course, but I vaguely recall an incident in which you did knowingly waylay a Valentine's message intended for my darling wife and sent it instead to her sister. I did promise that you would get yours after I spent months dodging that deranged bint's advances, and as I'm sure your trousers can presently attest, I've not forgotten….

"Merlin's sake," Snape muttered under his breath. "That was eighteen years ago."

… Now then, I am certain that you yourself must be 'desperate for some meager measure of relief.' Surely you must be able to scrounge up some seventh-year who would desire an 'O' for her efforts. Or perhaps the illustrious Miss Granger, hmm? From what I hear from Draco, she's always eager to please Professor. Alas, if you cannot manage to get laid at Hogwarts, do us all a favor, and get laid somewhere. Should it be necessary, I would be happy to owl you the ten galleon fee that Madam Longlova requires for the use of her girls.

I do hope you come to a satisfactory completion on such a lovely St. Valentine's Day. I am certain you will thoroughly enjoy your full day of classes. You can be assured that I will.

Amused as always,

Lucius

"Fucking hell," the wizard snarled, crumpling the letter into a ball. Acutely aware of the uncomfortable hardness between his thighs, Severus managed only a few seconds before angrily shoving out of his seat and stalking away from the table.

Several pairs of eyes followed his leave from the dais. Upon noticing the Slytherin's odd gait as he stumbled through the staff exit, his colleagues glanced amongst each other and amusedly set to theorizing possible explanations.

Once out of sight of the Great Hall, he growled and punched one of the Headmaster's charmed cherubs that were floating about the castle. There was no longer any doubt about it - he should have stayed in bed.