"...and a 'Bah, humbug' to you!"

You're a mean one
       Mr. Snape
  you really are a heel
Your heart is full of gillyworms
  your mind is full of eels
You're a bad banana with a
   . . .GREASY BLACK PEEL!

- to the tune of 'Grinch', obviously

      One of my favourite fan-sketches of Snape. Most folks likely now have Alan Rickman's uptight, erect and even somewhat dapper version of this character in their minds, but for me his primary form has always been more akin to the one above: lean, hard, greasy and exceedingly unpleasant in a way even Alan's version did not convey.

Oh, how I squirmed inside when I first heard the last line of this verse on the radio! It seems like we've all encountered one of those damned bananas -- I've had them go bad in the refrigerator, to the point where even use in banana bread could not have redeemed them. Then there was the time a student threw a banana in the gym, it landed atop part of the wall mats, where it proceeded to rot and melt and dribble down and . . . ew! ew! EW!!
And as a youth and early collegiate, that was exactly how I felt about a certain Mr. Snape. He's one of those fellows whose aura and odor arouses pure horrified fascination, and as much as you loathe him, nor can you tear your eyes, mind and gut sensations away, either.
At some point, however, those first feelings gave way to others, of the same brand that inspired my wicked mind to put two and two together and adapt the Grinch verse. That's when the shivers started to come from a different direction entirely.
Somewhere below the gut this time, to be precise.
"Snape is a gift of a character to write, but who would want him in love with them? It's the bad guy thing again, isn't it?" the author-mother of Snape himself sighed in disgust. "Girls, stop going for the bad guy!"
No, I would have to tell her gently, it's not the bad guy thing; if it was, we'd all be head-over-heels for You-Know-Who, or some travesty like Wormtail (although the handsome and aristocratic Lucius did attract some amorous attention, and he's quite the scumbag too).
It's -- as she no doubt already knows -- the good bad guy thing.
In response to the inquiry of some poor sod such as Gilderoy as to what the secret of his magnetism is, Snape might answer with three things: mastery, mystery, and redemption. (That's if he didn't simply toy with the unfortunate bugger and reply drily, "No idea.")
The last is, perhaps, the most important, but these three qualities combined allow Severus to sweep any competition for many of us. That intoxicating brew of redemptive behavior and greasy black, bad-boy peel is what makes millions of us girlies want to get our slimy little hands all over him. Or at least, deeply admire the stuff he's made of. The anti-hero with a kernel of gold inside his heart -- no matter how embittered or shielded by barbed wire that heart might be -- and whose danger is appealing via his willingness to fight dirty, yet who ultimately fights on the side of right, is irresistable.

So many of us had that one teacher who sucks.
For me, it was Mr. "Jerkobs" in history: I was one of those icy girls whose freckles he didn't dare pinch, whose hair he knew better than to play with, because Queen Frigidaire here didn't go in for that bullshit, from any boy (real men don't engage in this bullshit; they don't feel the need to). I did and still despise him. With his combed dye-job and little red midlife-crisis car. I have the urge to reach for a hatpin every time I see him, so cockjumped and puffed up is his ego. Without some truly redeeming qualities, an arsehole remains in this category and rises no higher.
For Jo Rowling, it was her chemistry teacher:

Poor fellow!
Don't be too hard on yourself, sir. Thanks to you, millions of us have laughed, groaned, winced, and yes, swooned for a sporting twenty years.

Redemption.
It can transform a despicable and miserly old man, nearly too far gone and ossified in spirit beyond hope, into a heartwarming and benevolent grandfather figure who sits welcome and smiling at his clerk's family dinner table: Who has not heard the tale of Ebenezer Scrooge?
It can turn a nasty green monster of a Grinch into a rather kindly old fart.
And it elevated nothing less than a wizard version of a former Nazi -- a bitter, greasy-haired bully of a teacher with a sadistic tongue and extensive, largely self-taught ("Bad Severus! Bad!") knowledge of evil magic into a veritable saint. While other, more shallow heroes and glittering teen idols fade into obscurity or are remembered with a sour aftertaste of "good riddance", Severus Snape is the very opposite of dead: Not only is he arguably one of the greatest characters in recent English literature, he has people literally incarnating him around the world. With at least two altars dedicated to him in my (not very large) city alone, he truly reigns as Saint Severus.
For which I offer one special Latin incantation to all you, my kindred spirits, in light of this Christmas season :

  Venite effing adoramus, you buggers.

Never one for dressing up cheerfully for the holidays, especially in a vulture-topped hat, but that's why we love him. Humbug!

Did I say Merry Christmas? Merry Christmas. Perhaps a friendlier chemistry teacher than Mr. Nettleship cooked up this unique Christmas tree for the amusement of her/his students. Well done, sir.

What do I want for Christmas . . .

Well, use thine effing brains and poke around on eBay. Even a dunderhead can find amazing and appropriate things on the worldwide web, like this ancient pocket scales. Unless, of course, you first find it in a brick-and-mortar apothecary. A "bah, humbug" to Amazon! Support your small-time merchants.