For years he had been trying to live down the pain and humiliation that were the results of his long standing obsession with Lily Evans Potter. For years people would bring it up, would make fun of him, would do everything they could to bring him down. They acted as if it was his fault that Lily had run to James instead of to himself. Like it was his fault that he apparently wasn't good enough for her. But he knew better. He knew that there was nothing he could have done to make her love him. He knew that the reason he had pushed her away and called her a mudblood wasn't because that's how he honestly felt, but rather because it was easier to pretend he didn't love her. When she acted nice to him, still running to James at the end of the day, he could feel his heart shattering every day. But by pushing her away -- his heart only broke, steeling itself against more severe pain.
But even after she was murdered so awfully, people continued to make fun of his love for her. It didn't matter that she was dead, she still managed to haunt his every passing thought. Every moment of every day, she was there. Which was why the bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey was half empty. To say he had a drink once in a while would be the understatement of the year. In fact, it was a good day when he only made his way through a single bottle. So the fact that he was only halfway through the bottle at such a late hour could be seen as a small miracle.
The man with the bottle rested his onyx eyes on a picture frame across the room. The light mahogany frame held a picture of a laughing and bubbly redhead who kept looking towards him and waving, her bright emerald eyes shining merrily. He grabbed a book off the end table beside the couch he was sitting on and threw it at the frame unceremoniously. "This is all your fault, witch," he growled as he took another long slug from the bottle. He had to fight the urge to get up and fix the frame with everything he had.
"What are you doing to yourself?" he asked himself as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. His hair hung lank and greasy, rather than just looking that way, reaching past his shoulders, and the bags under his eyes seemed to encompass his whole face. He looked skinnier than usual, his large beaklike nose looking even more out of place on his face than ever before. His long black robes hung loose off his body. His bones almost seemed to protrude out of his skin and his movements were jerky. "You're going to end up killing yourself one of these days, old man. Is she really worth it?"
He had been sitting at his desk in his office for the better part of an hour, grading papers that the idiotic students of his had written. As he made another long red slash through the entirety of someone's essay on bezoars, he scoffed at the fact that they had somehow mistakes bezoars for a love potion. They just continued to get stupider as the years progressed. He looked up and had to bite back a groan when he noticed Hermione Granger standing in his doorway. "How can I help you, Miss Granger?"
"Professor Dumbledore told me to come get you. It's dinner time and he thinks that you should be there."
"I do not wish to be there," he replied back to her, wishing she would take the hint and go away. But he should have known better.
"He said you would say that. In which case I was told to bind you and force you to go. We are getting a new professor and he very much wants you to be there. It's mandatory for everyone in school." He sighed but stood up nonetheless and headed out the door with the teen girl on his tail. "I hear she is really pretty, sir."
"Why do I care what she looks like, Miss Granger?"
"I don't know. She's not a real professor. I don't think. She's more an aide to anyone who needs help."
"Good for her."
The large doors of the Great Hall opened allowing "the bat" and "the know-it-all" to enter the grand room. From where he stood he could see all of the students sitting at their house tables and all of the faculty members sitting in their seats at the head table. What he didn't see there, was anyone new. Or even an empty seat for someone new to begin to sit.
"Ah it's about time," a tall man wearing a wizard's hat had stood up and was standing in front of a podium with gleaming eyes. "Professor Snape, if you would care to join us up here at your seat, and if Miss Granger would return to her seat also then I think we may be able to have our quick chat and then begin our feast."
The old man waiting until both parties had taken their seats, one looking excited at the prospect of getting a new teacher to learn from, the other scowling at the thought of why the headmaster would hire someone to be an aide. "Now, as I'm sure all of you know, there is a war going on. Due to this, I thought it was best to bring in another faculty member. Not only will she be readily available should someone need some extra tutoring, but she has a degree in medicine and will be helping out Madame Pomfrey should the need arise." He waited until everyone had settled down from their loud chatter at the mention of the war and then smiled. "Now I would like you all to welcome Miss Shayne Taylor."
As he spoke the name, the large doors at the entrance of the room opened up again to reveal a woman in her mid-twenties. As she made her way up to the table her dark red curls bobbed happily around her shoulder blades. She could feel every pair of eyes on her and she had to work hard to fight back the blush at so much attention. She didn't want them to think that she was nervous or anything about the job.
Dumbledore looked towards the audience again and with a slight nod of his head he heard all of the students begin a chorus of "Good evening, Miss Taylor." With a proud smile on his face he turned to look at the professors and other workers at the school and he nearly laughed out loud at the look of pure unadulterated hatred radiating off of Severus Snape. With that thought, he tapped his wand against the table and everyone watched as it enlarged, placing a chair right beside the greasy bat from the dungeons. Taking that as her cue to sit down, Shayne walked towards her seat and pulled a napkin down onto her lap. "Let the feast begin," Dumbledore boomed at the crowd.
As Shayne sat down she was immediately brought into the conversation around the table. Most of the professors around her were asking her questions about herself, about what her favorite class was. Yet others were asking her questions like if she had a man, or if not, was she into women. She had to laugh and shake her head at that. "No, sorry to disappoint. I am into men. Though I hardly believe that's appropriate conversation for the dinner table."
She heard a disgruntled voice from next to her saying "why not, they talk about everything else."
She looked over at the man with the rich voice and she smiled at him. "Alright, well then let's save it until everyone's gotten to know me. I hardly think it's appropriate trying to find out about my love life on the first night that I'm here. And I'm sure you don't want to hear about it anyway, so that can be a private matter between us girls. Well and of course Headmaster Dumbledore if he cares to join us," she looked over at the older man and winked playfully when she saw that his eyes were gleaming back at her.
Severus Snape didn't miss the exchange of looks. If she was already plotting with the old coot then there was no hope for her. They were already in for it with her. She probably thought it was funny, messing around with people's heads like she was.
Mind you, Shayne Taylor had no idea that one of the main reasons why Severus Snape continued to glare at her had nothing to do with her becoming fast friends with Dumbledore, and had everything to do with her dark red curls. She wasn't one to prod into people's minds to find out what they liked or what they didn't like. And she certainly wasn't one to prod into people's minds to find out about a past obsession who had long red hair and bright green eyes. So she didn't have any clue that there was a possibility she might have been able to get on with the man if she simply -- changed her hair color.
The rest of dinner went by smoothly -- or as smoothly as possible when you were constantly being glared at for something you didn't do. After dinner however was when the real fun started. She made her way out of the Great Hall and was immediately stopped by a horde of teenage girls. "Miss Taylor! Miss Taylor! Miss Taylor!" She hated being called that, but she knew it would be too informal to have everyone call her Shayne. "Miss Taylor, we saw the way all the boys were looking at you, and we want the boys to look at us like that too. Please teach us how to be as pretty as you." She was surprised to hear an eleven year old girl saying that to her.
"Darling, it's called makeup. I'm not sure someone as young as you should necessarily be wearing it, but I suppose if the older girls would like to learn how ---"
"Oh please Miss Taylor! Teach us all! We promise not to make ourselves look like two-knut prostitutes. We just want boys to notice us."
She took a deep breath and then nodded. "Alright. I'll talk to the headmaster about maybe allowing a sleepover one night where girls from all different houses can come." She heard them all begin cheering and she help up a hand "I have to speak with the headmaster first."
She laughed to herself as they all walked away still giddy about the idea of an interhouse sleepover where they would learn how to put on makeup and play dressup and learn all about what it took to make boys like them. As she was laughing at herself and shaking her head she bumped into the one person who could spoil her happy mood. "Oh well hello, sir."
He glared at her and she bit her lip to keep from flinching under his gaze. "I am not your teacher, I expect that you would be able to call me by my given name rather than by sir, thank you very much Miss Taylor." He turned on his heel and strode away from her, leaving her to stick her tongue out at his back as he swept away from her in a hurry to get to the dungeons.
"That's right," she mumbled to herself. "Head back to your lair, you creepy hawk-like man."