On a dark, steamy night, deep in the dungeons everything was sleepy and still, excpet for the Potions Master's office. Filled with goulish looking objects inside gruesome looking jars, and with the help of a single pair of flickering candles, the office took on the quality of a sinister swamp, despite the fact that all objects in the room where quite well cared for by the Potions Master himself, Severus Snape.
Despite the fact that it was well past the time that anyone should be in bed, including Professor Dumbledore who has been known to take late night extersions to the Hog's Head until well past 2 am, there he was, reading his students essays. He was scrutinizing a particularly dreadful paper, by Neville Longbottom, whose handwriting was dreadful, when he heard crash in his classroom.
He started, and before he had realized what he was doing, his instincts kicked in and he was rushing to the door. Just as he forced the stuck doorknob open, his classroom door slammed close. He swore loudly, forced the tricky door closed, and hurried after the unseen assaliant.
As he raced to the hallway, he noted the room around him; every single one of his precious glass vials, each of which cost 3 galleons, was on the floor in pieces. He cursed once more, andcontinued to the hallway, as he reached it he heard a cackling and felt chalk slam into his face.
"PEEVES!" He bellowed. Without thinking he hurled a jinx at him, which he immediatly forgot, and stalked back into his classroom, slamming the door behind him. He quickly reached the broken vials, thanking whatever mysterious force was out there that he had magic, and repared them.
Once he was through he swiftly placed them in one of cabinets. Despite the fact that they were easily fixed, he knew that the integrity of the vials would never quite be the same again. Despite what most wizards think, once an object is broken, even if it is healed, it will always have a memory of where it was broken, making it easier to break the next time.
Although the difference was slight, they only got about 1/100th% weaker, working with children ment many broken objects. Severus knew for a fact that any vial Neville Longbottom had attempted to use had been broken at least 4 times a day. Statistacly that meant that, since it was the middle of his sixth year, because of him, his collection, as a whole was 47% weaker already and would be 50% weaker by the time his seventh year was over.
This thought made Severus seeth, as the thought of Neville Longbottom still tormented him, how on earth had he managed to pass his OWLS?He had suprised everone and passed every single one of his owls except for transfiguration, with at least an Acceptable. He had somehow even gotten the Outstanding the Severus required to go on in the class. With this thought haunting him he stomped up the stairs and proceeded to tear Neville's paper a part with a new viger, made crueler by the fact that he was fully awake. By the time he had finished he felt signifigantly rested and relaxed and went to bed right after.
However, despite his calm mood when he went to bed, he slept poorly and woke up in the middle of the night after a particularly harsh dream about Lilly. His mood was harsh all throughout the day and was made no better by the fact the he had Double Potions that evening with the Gryffindors and Slytherins.
"Good evening class. Today we will be doing a continuation of yesterday's work with the sleeping draughts we worked on yesterday as none of you produced an acceptable form of it yesterday. I daresasy that Weasley's would have made the drinker fall into a deathly coma whilst the drinker twitched dangerously."
As a laugh rose from the Slytherin section of the room, he saw a struggle out of the corner of his eye. He turned and faced Ronald Weasley, who was being forcibly held down by Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom. He tilted his head, "Problem Weasley?"
The room was quiet for a moment, he then responded through gritted teeth, "No Professor Snape." "Then I daresay that Mr. Potter and Mr. Longbottom had best release you and begin working on the potion at hand, as none of your potions was satisfactory." And with that, he turned and stalked to his desk.
After a few moments the room filled with the sounds of students gathering supplies and begining working. Pages flipped, feet shuffled, glass clicked . . . and a shadow fell over him.
"Professor Snape? I need to talk to you about an essay of mine." He glanced up and saw Hermione Granger, "Ms. Granger, I'm sure-" "Please Professor, it's important." He stared at her and saw the pleading, vulnarable look in her eyes. A strong flashback hit him of a similar look he'd seen in her eyes recently and he nodded curtly.
"Very well, my office, Ms. Granger." She nodded and followed him quickly to his office. He forced the door closed behind them and then turned to see her propping herself against his desk, clearly thinking deeply.
"Hermione, we don't have much time, so if you have something to say, say it quickly. And, before you ask, we can not-" She cut him short, "I'm not asking you anything, I'm telling you something-" She took a deep breath and continued, "I don't think our, er- prevenitive measures worked."
"I'm sorry?" He asked, not comprehending, or perhaps not allowing himself to comprehend, what she had said. "I- I missed my period." They were both quiet then. Finally Hermione interupted the silnce, "I- I promise I did everything I could; I took all the potions you told me to, I-"
She was interupted by his lips gently quieting her concerns. They pulled back and she stared up at him, terrified at what might be coming. He leaned over her, thinking of all the mistakes he had made thus far. Some would say this would be his biggest yet, but he would make the best of it.
"I will support you, however I can." She stared up into his eyes, and tears slipped down her face, she hugged him, unable to express her gratitude.
Just that morning he had been thinking of the women he had formerly loved, Lily Potter, when he had had the best, and most important women nearby. He knew he had tough times ahead of him, but that is what he did best. Tough is good.
