Severus Snape stood over his cauldron, wondering why on earth he was being forced to watch over these incompetent ingrates for yet another year. Casting a glance over his seventh year class, he contemplated why half of the idiotic, ineffective imbeciles bothered coming back to potions at all. He also took note of the fact that he seemed to be favouring 'I' words today. The one thing he took genuine joy in, was the fact that for the first time in eight, long years, he was no longer trapped under the thumb of the dark lord, the force that was Voldemort had been wiped from the face of the earth forever, and best of all, finally, his precious potions class was free of the golden trio of goits. Nevermore would he be bothered by that insufferable know-it-all, the carrot topped buffoon and the emerald eyed thorn in his side. The thought made him grin, before being ripped from his reverie by a terrified shriek.

Snapping his head towards the abysmal noise, Severus took great pleasure in the sight he was greeted with. Elsa Hubble, a loudmouthed Ravenclaw chit was covered head to toe in her final experimental project. Which just so happened to be a Hair-Be-Gone depilation potion. Guffaws erupted from every student in the room as with a growing look of horror, Elsa's auburn tresses began quickly detaching themselves from her scalp and dropping to the ground. Tears began to well up in the girl's eyes as she whipped her head around to look for the perpetrator. Unfortunately, this only resulted in strands of copper flying in every direction. Finally, just as Severus was about to step in, Elsa's gaze fell on the one person in the room who wasn't bent double in laughter, but who instead was standing stock still with an ever increasing look of fear written across her face. Lizzie Cartwright, a muggleborn from Hufflepuff, stood staring at the pool of glossy hair collecting around Elsa's ankles, holding a bowl of finely chopped Valerian root in her shaking hands. Although a whizz in charms, Severus has known from her first year that Cartwright was the feminine equivalent of Neville Longbottom, regarding both clumsiness and complete and utter incompetence when it came to the "subtle art of potion making". In fact, the girl was about as subtle as a gun. It seemed as though miss Cartwright had unfortunately tripped over the train of Elsa's robes, causing her to fling several potions worth of valerian powder into Elsa's waiting cauldron (which, in Severus' opinion was Elsa's own fault. It served her right for daring to wear such a gaudy, out of place outfit in his classroom). Slowly, Elsa's face turned a shade similar to that of an over-stewed beetroot, before she let the string of abuse she apparently didn't have the sense to hold back, spring forth. "You IDIOT! You, stupid, inconsiderate, filthy little mudblood whore!" Suddenly, the classroom was eerily silent, and Severus' blood pressure was starting to rise, rapidly. "Do you think that just because you're not content with fucking up your own work, you can mess with mine? I will NOT be made fun of by a filthy, muggle born lowlife like you!" "SILENCE!" Elsa's tirade stopped immediately, as Severus swooped down on her in a wave of black material. "Miss Hubble, if I ever hear you speak another word in this classroom, you will be sent straight to Filch's quarters to help scrape mould from the walls of the dungeons and clip Mrs norris' ear hairs. Every evening. For the rest of the year." Severus stared down his nose at the young, bald witch, silently daring her to speak again. "But…" "Filch's office. NOW" He turned the entire force of his onyx stare onto the young woman, who was now trembling from head to toe. She ran off with a little squeak, bounding out of the door just as Severus called out, in the most chilling voice he could muster, "500 points from Ravenclaw." The class was still silent. No-one dared complain. Severus returned to his podium, smirking inwardly at the girl's reaction. "First score of the day. I'm losing my touch". Turning towards the rest of the students, glowering at the Cartwright girl, he spoke. "If anyone ever uses that filthy word in my presence ever again, I will personally see to it that they are unable to utter a single syllable for the rest of their miserable lives. Is that understood." It wasn't a question. After several moments of silence that Severus took to mean "Yes", he dismissed the class, taking another 20 points from Ravenclaw for dillydallying.

Slumping back in his reading chair by the fire, a glass of firewhisky in hand, Severus looked back on the events of the past year. Voldemort defeated, Harry praised, hundreds of friends and students mourned, and Severus himself escaping death by the skin of his teeth. Or, perhaps more aptly, the grip of Nagini's jaws on the skin of his neck. The glass in his hand trembled as he thought of what could have happened, if the beast's venomous fangs had hit just one more inch to the right, piercing his jugular. He still had nightmares about it. He had seen many things in his life. Women slaughtering their own babies whilst under the imperio, as sport for those hideous revels, the bravest men begging for demise after minutes under the cruciatus curse, dying with a smile on their faces when hit by the deadly green aura, a woman, stretching out a cold, dead hand reaching for her still breathing child, her perfect red hair pooling about her cheeks…

A loud rattling noise emitted from the fireplace, pulling Severus from his thoughts. He gripped his firewhisky even tighter, his mouth settling into a grim scowl as the bright, twinkling face of Albus Dumbledore became visible amidst the green flames. "Ah, Severus. I have been looking for you everywhere, dear boy."

"I am sure. It makes sense, in that case that you should find me here. By my fireplace. In MY quarters. About to go to sleep in MY bed." Get the fuck out of my room old man. You may no longer have a body, but I swear by Merlin's beard I will give you some bruises before the night is through…

"Come come now Severus, we both know you were not about to hop off to sleep. Not dressed in that, at least." He motioned to Severus' black robes, still buttoned up to the collar, with no sign of being removed any time soon. Albus smiled. It was one of those twinkling, mischevious grin the old man had never lost, even though he had in fact, lost his face. Technically. " If I wasn't contacting you on a matter of business, I might even have joined you for a glass or two of those."

"Albus. You cant drink"

The light went out of the Headmaster's eyes for a moment. "Ah, yes. Never again will I savour the taste of a good bottle of Glenfiddich. Or Bertie Bott's. Though," His eyes lighted once more, and that mischievous smile returned. "I don't think I shall be missing those in particular."

"You said something about a business matter?" Despite his soft spot for the old man's occasional tandems, Severus was not in the mood for a light-hearted conversation about chocolate frogs and the joys of a good pinot noir. Albus's grin widened.

"Always to the point, dear boy. Meet me in my office, promptly. The password is 'tangfastics'."

"Tangfastics?"

"Yes. Despite some of their finer downfalls, muggles are incredibly talented when it comes to confectionary." With that, Albus' face withdrew from the flames, which returned to a warm, and slightly ominous looking orange. Sighing, Severus threw his remaining alcohol into the grate, a wall of flame filling the fireplace for a moment, before disappearing entirely. Wrapping his ever thinning cloak around him, he exited his quarters, and made his way up to the North wing, wondering all the what on earth Tangfastics were, and if they were worth investigating.