Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I simply enjoy playing in the Magical Sandbox J.K. Rowling has created for us.
"Hang on…" Harry muttered to Ron, "There's an empty chair at the staff table….Where's Snape?"
"Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully.
"Maybe he's left," said Harry, "because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again!"
"Or he might have been sacked! Exclaimed Ron enthusiastically. "I mean, everyone hates him – "
"I mean, everyone hates him …"
"I mean, everyone hates him …"
"I mean, everyone hates him …"
Those five little words bounced around in Severus Snape's head as he made his way across his dank, cold chambers and reached for the precious and most needed bottle of Firewhiskey, the strongest Ogden's had to offer. He needed the escape of the bottle, needed to calm his thoughts. Why were Weasley's words bothering him so much tonight? He knew that the students hated him. Knew that they feared him. Knew what they called him behind his back. Yes, he was the great bat of the dungeons, the greasy git, and much more. This, he knew. So why was he feeling the strange tightening in his chest? The slightest bit of pressure behind his eyes? He could not understand. He took a long gulp from the bottle, falling deeper and deeper into thought. The students meant nothing to him, so why were the words of a measly little Second year Gryffindor so painful to him? He knew what they thought. But to actually hear it said aloud was like a knife through his heart. But No! The big bad Professor wasn't supposed to have any feelings. He wasn't allowed to let anything show. If they knew how their words tore at him, it would only get worse. So it would continue like this. Forever. They would talk about him when they thought he didn't hear. They would try their best not to be called upon in his classes. They would turn and practically run the other way when they saw him stalking down the corridors. This was the way it has always been, and this was the way it would always be. Forever. Sighing to himself, Severus Snape took one last swig, draining his bottle, and crawled into bed facing another restless night. This time, with a lone tear running down his long hooked nose.
~Fin~