For eleven years he had dreaded this day.
Severus Snape paced the length and breadth of the potions classroom, pausing on occasion to glance at the clock. It was his first lesson of the new year, and he didn't doubt that it would be the worst lesson he had ever had to teach during his time at Hogwarts.
Flinging the door open, he quickly searching for the cause of his misery amongst the throng of terrified first years but couldn't spot him in the din. He didn't speak, simply gave them all a curt nod – Albus had told him to be welcoming after all – and then swept to the front of the room. The first years followed behind him, filtering into their seats.
Finally, he caught sight of the young Gryffindor. Severus' body tensed involuntarily as his ever-critical eye noted the boy's appearance – he was the exact double of his father. On instinct, Severus moved slowly through the room, glaring at anyone who dared to meet his gaze. Staring down his nose at the Potter boy, Severus felt his emotions flare, fuelled by a torrent of memories.
James Potter…
Anger.
The Gryffindor golden boy…
Loathing.
As though sensing the sudden intensity of his potions master's stare on the back of his head, the boy looked up and caught his Professor's gaze for a few moments before lowering his head again. The breath was knocked from Severus' lungs.
Lily…
Despair.
I'm sorry…
Regret.
"I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with it shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…"
Continuing his steady pace, Severus concentrated on the face of every other student as a means of maintaining his composure. The empty feeling of loss settled heavily in the pit of his stomach.
"I can teach you to bottle fame, brew glory and…" he paused for a moment as memories of a much kinder green gaze momentarily choked him, "even put a stopped in death."
He glanced over the rest of the Gryffindors before turning smoothly on his heel and marching to the front of the room, his black robes billowing behind him.
Sat before him, in his potions class, was the boy he had sworn to protect. Harry Potter – the living, breathing, undeniable proof that his dearest Lily had loved another man.
There was the proof that, although Severus knew he would die loving her, she had not died loving eleven years he had dreaded this day.
Severus Snape paced the length and breadth of the potions classroom, pausing on occasion to glance at the clock. It was his first lesson of the new year, and he didn't doubt that it would be the worst lesson he had ever had to teach during his time at Hogwarts.
Flinging the door open, he quickly searching for the cause of his misery amongst the throng of terrified first years but couldn't spot him in the din. He didn't speak, simply gave them all a curt nod – Albus had told him to be welcoming after all – and then swept to the front of the room. The first years followed behind him, filtering into their seats.
Finally, he caught sight of the young Gryffindor. Severus' body tensed involuntarily as his ever-critical eye noted the boy's appearance – he was the exact double of his father. On instinct, Severus moved slowly through the room, glaring at anyone who dared to meet his gaze. Staring down his nose at the Potter boy, Severus felt his emotions flare, fuelled by a torrent of memories.
James Potter…
Anger.
The Gryffindor golden boy…
Loathing.
As though sensing the sudden intensity of his potions master's stare on the back of his head, the boy looked up and caught his Professor's gaze for a few moments before lowering his head again. The breath was knocked from Severus' lungs.
Lily…
Despair.
I'm sorry…
Regret.
"I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with it shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…"
Continuing his steady pace, Severus concentrated on the face of every other student as a means of maintaining his composure. The empty feeling of loss settled heavily in the pit of his stomach.
"I can teach you to bottle fame, brew glory and…" he paused for a moment as memories of a much kinder green gaze momentarily choked him, "even put a stopped in death."
He glanced over the rest of the Gryffindors before turning smoothly on his heel and marching to the front of the room, his black robes billowing behind him.
Sat before him, in his potions class, was the boy he had sworn to protect. Harry Potter – the living, breathing, undeniable proof that his dearest Lily had loved another man.
There was the proof that, although Severus knew he would die loving her, she had not died loving him.