The world of Harry Potter does not belong to me. There are some parts of this story that are taken directly from the source. If you recognize it, it's not mine.
Many, many thanks to my beta YellowAsphodel. She worked tirelessly to help me.
If you have any negative comments, keep them to yourself. Or as my grandma used to say, "If you can't say anything nice, keep your mouth shut!"
Broken
Chapter 1
June 20, 1996
The summer sun peaked from behind fluffy white clouds casting sporadic sunbeams across the staff room table. Although the house elves had prepared a mouthwatering breakfast, most of the staff only picked at the meal before them. The majority of them were still nursing a hangover courtesy of Filius Flitwick's annual "No More Kids" party. It had run far into the wee hours with more than one toast being offered to the removal of Dolores Umbridge.
"Good morning," Severus Snape called out unusually loudly and cheerfully as he entered the staff room. He slammed the door behind him and stomped around the table to his usual seat, the tread of his dragon hide boots ringing on the stone floor.
"What's your problem, Snape?" Minerva McGonagall growled at him. "You're never this cheerful."
"Whatever makes you think something is wrong with me?" he purred and casually tossed a wooden box onto the table. It landed with a loud, echoing thump.
"Bloody hell, Severus," Septima Vector complained. She was not nearly as capable of holding her whiskey as Minerva, and as a result she was still a little green in the face. "Would you just be a little quieter? Please?" She laid her head on the table top, her long hair pooling in her eggs.
Pomona Sprout rubbed a hand in circles on her colleague's back. "It's all right, Septima," she told her. "You'll feel better directly."
"It seems highly suspicious that all of the anti-hangover potions simply vanished from the castle," Charity Burbage declared suggestively.
"Does it now?" Snape gave them his most Grinch-like grin.
"I knew it!" Sinistra hissed. "You took them all. What do you plan to do? Sell them back to us?"
"No, Aurora," Dumbledore muttered, holding one hand to his forehead. "It seems that our previous Headmistress removed all hangover remedies from the school. She believed that any student foolish enough to drink deserved what he got." He squinted in the bright sunlight. "As for staff members, she was of the opinion that we should set the highest example for our students, and that it was unseemly for a teacher ever to indulge in drink -"
At that moment, Irma Pince snarled, "Just another bureaucratic sycophant! I've seen her like all my life."
"- in fact, one of her many decrees - one which I found to still be in effect as of this morning - issued special sanctions against any shop in Hogsmeade which dared to sell anyone from Hogwarts a hangover cure," the Headmaster continued.
"Yes, but she's no longer of any consequence to us," Severus declared, his warm baritone overly loud, "and neither are her decrees." The corner of his lip quirked upward in a semi-smile, and he lowered his voice. "Do open the box, Aurora."
A gleam of Slytherin pride sparkled in Aurora's coffee colored eyes. She snatched the box to herself and jerked the lid off. "Hangover potion!" she cried. Pulling out a vial of the purplish liquid, she popped the cork and downed the contents. "Oh, Severus, I'd kiss you if I didn't think you'd hex me for it!" She quickly pushed the box towards her co-workers.
"Up all night brewing, I see," Dumbledore remarked, chuckling. "And with a hangover of your own, no doubt." He took one of the vials. "Ah, and I see you've managed to improve the taste as well."
"Thank you, Severus," Irma Pince said quietly as a chorus of voices echoed her sentiment. "You're a very thoughtful young man."
"Ah, ah - not so fast," Minerva said gently, "what is it you want?"
Again, Severus smiled. "Perhaps the Headmaster may finally agree that it's time Hogwarts had a real Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor," he trailed off, and turned to face the Headmaster. His coal black eyes sparkled as if diamonds were hidden in their depths.
Albus Dumbledore ran a hand down his beard thoughtfully. He nodded slowly and said, "Yes, you may be right, Severus. Now that Tom has made his presence firmly known, we'll be seeing war fairly soon, I'm afraid."
At this moment, the room was flooded with owls. "However, we'll discuss that and the usual end-of-school routine after we finish our breakfast and mail."
"Well, would you look at that!" Filius Flitwick exclaimed, pointing out a very large raven winging its way through the window.
Dusty and tired, the raven settled in front of Severus and waited patiently while the Potions Master unwrapped a note from its leg. Once delivered, the message enlarged itself to standard parchment size, and the raven hopped expectantly towards Snape's plate. "Caw!" it exclaimed.
"Extraordinary!" Flitwick cried. "An elegant piece of charm work on that scroll."
"And a lovely bird," Hagrid said with a nod of appreciation. "Here ya go." He heaped a plate full of bacon and eggs and pushed it towards the ebony bird.
"Caw!" croaked the bird. It quickly hopped towards the plate to eat.
"Extraordinary!" Dumbledore echoed. "Who sent such a beautiful creature -"
The bird paused in eating and looked up at Dumbledore. Cocking its head to the side, it uttered one word. "Poe!"
"That your name?" Hagrid asked. He reached out a large hand to gently smooth the dust from the dark wings until the feathers shone a deep blue-black.
Twisting its head around towards Hagrid, the bird slowly nodded and returned to the plate.
"Well, Severus," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, "what is it that Poe has brought you?"
"Might I be allowed to read my mail own mail?" Snape replied with more than a touch of ire. He then ducked his head, hiding behind a wall of hair as dark as the raven's wings, and read:
Master Severus T. Snape
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
The Highlands, Scotland, UK
June 18, 1996
Dear Master Snape:
Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Merle A. Harper, and I'm from Dillard, Texas, USA. Having just graduated with my Master's degree in Potions and Herbology at Marie Laveau University, I am now seeking to further my education by obtaining a Doctorate degree.
My knowledge of the field is not all academic; I do have hands-on experience. My mother owned a small but successful potions and herb business (potions, scents, soaps, minor remedies, etc.), and I spent a great deal of my time helping her with brewing as well as growing and harvesting many ingredients. I have also studied healing with a local hoodoo root-doctor.
Master Snape, you are well-known and highly respected in the Potions community. You're also known to be demanding and exacting. Having grown up on a farm, I am no stranger to hard work and long hours. Sir, I can think of no one living from whom I could get a better education. I would be honored if you would accept me as your apprentice. I have taken the liberty of including a copy of my academic transcript.
I look forward to hearing from you to discuss the terms of apprenticeship.
Thank you,
Merle A. Harper
"And?" Minerva questioned him when he tossed the scroll down. "Don't keep us wondering. What's the paper say?"
"None of your business," he snapped.
"Oh, Severus," Dumbledore answered, "there's no need to be rude. Nor is there any need to push the boy, Minerva. He'll tell us when he's ready, won't you, Severus?"
A frown on his face, Severus snorted and shook his head. "Some American chap has finished his potions degree and wants to apprentice with me so he can obtain his mastery."
"That's a wonderful idea, Severus," Minerva suggested.
"It is not," he countered quickly. "I'll not be teaching potions this year." He looked at Dumbledore meaningfully. "And, in any case, I haven't the time to deal with him."
"Oh, don't write him off so quickly, Severus," Minerva said. "If we're going to be needing another potions professor anyway-" She appealed to Dumbledore. "-perhaps the young man could work on his apprenticeship while filling in the potions position. We'll certainly need a competent brewer, and potions degrees are as rare as hen's teeth these days."
"And you'd just hire this bloke like that?" Snape blurted out. "How do you know he isn't a follower of the Dark Lord?"
The librarian shook her head sadly. "Oh, Severus, why must you always see the worst side of everything?"
Dumbledore nodded. "A valid idea, Minerva," he said. "Severus, do you mind?" He reached for the scroll. "I'll have Aurors Moody and Shacklebolt check him out. If his background is clear and his CV is acceptable, I may need to hire to fill the potions position." He looked over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "Is there anything more before we leave? No? Good. Then please complete your regular end of the year check list and return it to Minerva before you go. Have a wonderful summer, and I shall see you all again in late August."
"Minerva," Flitwick called out, "here are our check lists. Pomona and I finished up before the children left. Come along, Pet," Flitwick said, as he held out the chair for Pomona Sprout. "If we hurry, we can catch the earlier portkey."
"Goodbye, everyone," Pomona called out. She grasped Filius' hand. "Paris here we come."
"Auora," Charity Burbage called out, "are you going up to London for the big Muggle football match? I can't wait!"
"Not exactly," she said with a smile. "Oh, I'm going up to town, yes, but not for a football match."
"She's not into that sort of sport, hey?" her friend, Septima Vector, said with a laugh.
"I'll say," Sinistra laughed. "I'm more into hunting - man hunting, that is."
"How about you, Severus," Charity asked.
"No," he said slowly, "muggle sporting events are an inane waste of my time." He sniffed. "I'm in the process of selling Spinner's End," he added, "and I've a few last things to pack."
Aurora Sinistra raised an eyebrow. "You've been talking of selling it for a while. Are you finally going through with it?"
"Indeed," he declared. "That place is full of nothing but bad memories. I've finished all of the suggested repairs except for repainting. I'll get that done this week."
"All work for you then?" Charity asked.
"Not at all," he replied. "I'm going to see The Who at the Prince's Trust concert, before returning to sort out the rest of my things."
Septima raised an eyebrow. "I'd never have pegged you for a rock fan," she said. "I'd have thought you were into classical music."
"I do like classical," he said, "but I have fond memories of The Who." He smiled briefly. "I first saw them in '76, and I never miss a concert if at all possible." He left the room without another word. It wasn't until he reached the security of his classroom that he allowed himself a bitter-sweet smile and to remember that first concert
As he sorted through classroom items, throwing away those things damaged beyond use and updating his inventory, he thought back to the winter of 1976. He sat down at this desk, pulled out some paperwork and stared at it. Sighing, he allowed his mind to drift back to his first and only official date with Lily. He'd scraped and saved for months to get tickets to see The Who, her favorite group. Everything had been perfect.