Title: In The Teacher's Lounge
Warnings: Humour, and general Harry Potter angst, life issues etc.
Pairing: NONE (not as far as I know) Of course, standard canon pairings apply.
Disclaimer: I do not own this original piece of work, neither do I gain financially from it~
Author's Notes:
Out of all the fandoms I've written for, Harry Potter is the most nerve-wracking. Probably because fans are so much more lihai (intense). Not that Twilight fans or Naruto fans can't get picky and crazy – but perhaps my nervousness lies more in the fact that I am neither a Potter purist, nor have I spent copious amounts of time reading the books (in fact, I take umbrage with quite a few things in the novels)... Still, I hope this fiction does justice to the universe – such as it is.
The idea germinated from the concept that the Hogwarts staff, although crazy, unusual and full of bizarre tendencies (ie. Trelawny's prophecy, the creepy DADA profs or Hagrid being Hagrid), they remain teachers. As such, I had some interest (as a teacher) as to what the teachers' lives behind the scenes might be like. This fic was born.
I might actually keep Snape alive at the end, because a) I am a Snape fan, b) I am not sure he should have/needed to die anyway.
Please tell me what you think!
In The Teacher's Lounge
Chapter 1
Before the Beginning
It is the universal belief of students that teachers live, eat, breathe and sleep in their classrooms. Well, that may be a bit of an exaggeration. However, it is amazing how often our minds link our teachers to the classroom – and never to the places beyond which they may inhabit. The younger the student, the greater the entrenched belief that one's teachers don't have a life beyond class. As years give one experience, realization begins to dawn that one's teachers do indeed "have a life". They also feel, think, breathe, bleed and enact all those other (very human or magical) activities.
With this in mind, let us draw off the usual Hogwarts corridor to an unexciting brown door simply inscribed "Staff Room". Open the door and let your eyes drift around this sanctuary. It is a large room of chestnut, smelling of old paper, wood and ink. And a light fragrance of coffee. To your right, coming to waist height is a long wooden cabinet – atop which are neatly placed ever warm pots of tea, coffee and ever replenished plates of refreshments, ranging from Dumbledore's favourite sweets to mini croissants. A battered cupboard which looks like it hasn't been opened for decades stands next to it. And then there is the fireplace surrounded by bookshelves. In front of the fireplace, a large rug spreads outwards in a warm circle of purple and green – which clashes horribly with the two chintz-covered armchairs and the sofa which stand gathered around the warm hearth in a semicircle.
Down the opposite wall, windows open out onto a bleak vista of grey heather and equally gloomy looking sky. Below the windows, a long table stretches offering space for any who would wish to complete their paperwork in peace. At the end of the table, a small evenly divided wooden shelving unit provides personal post-boxes for each teacher, filled with small packages and papers. Then, there is the wall which meets close to the door you stand in, also lined to the ceiling with books, a rickety ladder which rides along on small rails. And in the middle of the room, a long table lined with uncomfortable looking chairs. It is quiet here now.
But soon, it will be August. The days pass into weeks. August arrives quietly, filled with the hum of cicadas, the violins of crickets and warm winds. The room is filling with faculty. It is the beginning of the beginning. The first of many staff meetings.
-0-0-0-
If he shut his eyes, he could see the damned calendar dancing in his mind complete with the dread red ink which mentally marked down the weeks until the first day of the school year. A school year of exquisite torture, he was sure. The internal mental calendar taunted him. So he kept his dark eyes open, fixed on the pile of parchment placed before him. He had already read the top page over six times – Hogwarts 1991. General Memoranda. And a list of what would be addressed. The Potions Master wanted to lay his head on the table and groan. But that wouldn't befit a faculty member, let alone a Slytherin, let alone a Snape. His dark eyes flicked to the clock.
How long is this going to take? It's already eight... I don't want to sit here all day, as enlightening as Dumbledore may think his summer anecdotes are... Merlin, if I hear another -
Somewhere above him, Dumbledore's voice floated calling everyone to attention. To his left, Minerva McGonagall sat (at Dumbledore's right-hand), to his right, Professor Vector. Opposite, the quivering Quirrell, who was nervously sharing with Flitwick a story about his summer encounter with a werewolf (unlikely!). The rest were taking their seats slowly, drawing away from the refreshment table, still animatedly chattering about the new year.
His upper lip curled. Idiots, the lot of them. What kind of year do they think this is going to be?
"Welcome everyone," Dumbledore's voice grew stronger as the last whispering melted away, "to the beginning of a new year! I am pleased to see all of you – all of you in good spirits – and ready for the challenge. And it will be a challenge and a delight for all of us, as it always is."
Snape scowled at his hands and wondered how the dotty old man could even think that his Potions Professor was even remotely pleased about the coming school year.
"I was in Cornwall this year," the old man smiled in fond memory. "On a... what would the Muggles call it... I believe I heard one of your Gryffindor's use the term, Minerva... a road... ah... 'road-trip'. Yes. A great way to holiday, I must say – and very pleasing for the average single wizard – especially since, we do not have to deal with inconveniences such as, er, traffic."
Glancing around at his colleagues, Snape wondered how they could do it – look so interested in the totally useless, rambling story. No... wait... I think Binns might be falling asleep? Not that that is a surprise...
"At any rate, in Cornwall, I was able to meet up with your cousin, Pomona, thank you for the suggestion – and get out on the sea for a while. And you know... while I was at the dock, I saw a boat being hoisted out for repairs – and Mister Sprout pointed out the barnacles which had stuck to the sides. That's when I realized that sometimes the most amazing realizations we discover in life are what we never expect. Like barnacles."
There was a silence. The room waited. Snape waited. Dumbledore smiled, sipped his cup of tea and sat down. He shuffled his papers and held up the memo and squinted through his bifocals. Filius and Minerva exchanged glances.
"Ah... Albus?" McGonagall finally had to ask.
"Yes, Minerva?"
"So... what was the realization for this year?"
"Ahhh... you mean, what did the barnacles tell me?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at his Deputy Headmistress.
"Er, well, yes.."
"I think, Minerva," his eyes twinkled, here. "There is something more important than that... What do the barnacles tell you?"
Snape ground his teeth, while everyone else nodded wisely.
"Very well," Dumbledore's creaky voice went on. "Now that that's settled, moving on. First on the, er, schedule of things – welcoming new teachers. I would like to introduce Quirinus Quirrell our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Quirinus comes to us with high references and we look forward to his good work this year. Also, Charity Burbage will be joining us for Muggle Studies. I hope everyone will take time to make our new additions feel welcomed."
Minerva led a small round of applause and everyone smiled encouragingly at the turbaned young man and at the intense young lady, who sat further down the table. Snape's face hardened as he contemplated the imbecile who had once again got the job he had always wanted.
"Second on the, er, agenda. It came up rather suddenly – by Charity Burbage during her job interview. Er, that something like a entrance handbook would be something appreciated by new students and parents alike. A student's handbook. Any thoughts on it?"
"What sort of information would this handbook contain?" asked Aurora Sinistra.
"Charity?"
"Well, Professor Dumbledore," the young woman in question rose. "Most handbooks will have a school philosophy, expectations of behaviour – perhaps a code of conduct and, of course, what should happen to any student who breaks student rules. Perhaps it would also have information of how to contact us in emergency situations as well as outlines of what our emergency responses would be to various situations. Some handbooks have spaces for notes or a school calendar to show important dates – and there are spaces for them to jot notes down concerning tests and other such important activities. We could even have a map."
"There you are," Dumbledore nodded. "A handbook for new students and parents."
"It's not a bad idea," McGonagall nodded slowly. "It would reassure many Muggle parents..."
There was an uncertain silence while many of the teachers considered the idea. It didn't sound bad. Snape's dark eyes noted that many nodded equably. Even Aurora and Septima. He sighed.
"No maps."
"Severus?"
Do I have to repeat myself? Snape's scowl deepened further.
"No maps. For security reasons. I'm sure we all agree that having a detailed map of the school fall into the wrong hands would be disastrous... eh, Quirrell?"
"C-ce-certainly," stuttered the turbaned gentleman. "M-m-maps would – would be-best n-n-not be added to the, er, - ah – ha-handbook."
"Severus has a point," Dumbledore agreed gravely. "The handbook would do it's work well – without the map. Besides which, Hogwarts is an ever changing school which would render a map useless... Well then, a committee will have to be set up for this then. Perhaps Charity, you can head it up with, er... who would like to volunteer?"
Nobody stirred. Everyone's eyes were either glued to the ceiling, their hands or somebody further down the table.
"Ah... Let's see... How about you, Filius... and... Pomona... and since you are so concerned about security, Severus, you can make sure nothing untoward goes into the text." Here, Snape hunched over further, glaring past his stringy hair. "Speaking of texts, anyone ever really have a look at the Arthurian texts that Muggles have stashed away in Oxford? I popped in for a little look before starting up my small trip. Nothing like doing a bit of reading before one goes exploring. It's amazing how the Muggles have a fascination with the, ah... once and future king. A dark spot in history filled with... mystery... well... anyway... next up. Dinner Duties. Minerva?"
"You will see on the second page, I have already outlined the duties. It is a weekly schedule – with three teachers assigned per meal. Three meals, per day. As you can see, no one is assigned more than one meal a day. To make it easier, I have split us up into groups which will remain as such for the entire school year. For example on Mondays, for breakfast, we have Group One, which is comprised of myself, Severus and Filius... I know you hate Monday mornings, Severus, but it is most necessary to start the week with a firm hand..." Severus refrained from a biting comment and tried to satisfy himself with a mental image of submitting the schedule to a round of Incendio. "Then, for lunch, Group, ah, Two: Aurora, Pomona and Septima. For dinner, Group Three: Bathsheda, Charity and Rolanda... Tuesday morning, as you can see starts with Group Three. Wednesday morning starts with Group Four, Quirinus, Sybil and Poppy... I think it is fairly... straightforward. Of course, teachers on duty always welcome an extra pair of eyes, so be sure to show up if you are not otherwise engaged."
McGonagall looked around the table, eyebrow raised. Everyone nodded in approval. Dumbledore finished his tea and was pouring himself another cup. Snape suddenly wished he had got himself some more coffee.
"Next on the memo," Dumbledore shuffled his papers again. "Ah yes. The Midnight Rounds. I know that many of you do it, regardless of what we assign you," Twinkling eyes directed at Snape. "However, some of us are not as nocturnal as we once were when we were younger... So... as you can see by the timetable, besides the Head Boy, Head Girl and Argus, we have elected two professors to give the castle one sweep at midnight to encourage any – ah – late-night stragglers to get to bed. Yes. Of course, any student out of bed must be reported for detention. Argus, of course, is more than willing to hand out detention – however, I do encourage everyone to band together in this matter. Often times, a night out with Hagrid, or some time spent with dirty cauldrons are all that is needed. If we were closer to Cornwall, I would suggest scrapping off barnacles or deck swabbing... but alas, no. Onward then..."
Snape's eyebrow rose at the next line in the memo. Third-Floor Corridor.
"As usual, there will be an announcement this year about the Forbidden Forest being off limits. The third floor corridor will also be off limits. If you see any students, disobeying my warning, be sure to mete out the appropriate punishment," Dumbledore nodded.
All of the teachers glanced at each other, small whispers rising.
"How long will the corridor be off limits, Albus?" asked McGonagall, her eyes tried to pin down the Headmaster over her glasses.
"For as long as need be," Dumbledore replied seriously. "I will be talking to you, Severus, Filius, Pomona, and Quirinus, after this meeting. For the rest of you... As you know, Hogwarts has always been considered the ultimate haven – and for a short time, my friend Nicholas and I have need to store a certain... artifact here. Any comments? No? Very well... next... Quidditch... Rolanda?"
Hooch stood – obviously glad to get out of her uncomfortable chair and stretch. Her yellow hawk-like eyes pinned down the Heads of the Houses and she grinned, fists on hips.
"Well, as you know, the summer has been very kind to our pitch. Some rain. Some sun. Done it a world of good. Filch, Hagrid and I have already looked over the whole field – and it seems more than ready for a game. The sooner, the better I say. Perhaps, we could start tryouts in the first week?"
"Second week, please," Sprout asked, her kind face worried. "That is – if it's alright with everyone else?"
"I agree," Kettle-Burn put in, elbowing Trelawney who mumbled something like "Yes, yes... First week doesn't bode well..."
"As much as I am excited for the new year, Rolanda," McGonagall gave Snape a look. "Starting off so soon would not give the children a chance to settle into their work. I was thinking perhaps... second week?"
"Second week is when we normally schedule them," Snape added. "Perhaps it is best... to keep the times... the same... as before."
Hooch nodded and sat. Dumbledore smiled and glanced at the next on the list.
"Head Girl and Head Boy have already been chosen, correct?"
"Yes," Minerva nodded. "It's on the other side of our most up-to-date staff list. You'll notice I added a few extra inches on the parchment for the prefects as well."
"Ah. Another... Weasley," Snape's voice curled acidly through the room.
"And we'll be getting another one as a student this year," McGonagall smiled. "Ronald Weasley, I believe. Second youngest."
"Wonders never cease," Snape replied coolly. "Neither do Weasleys apparently."
"One of Britain's greatest resources," quipped Aurora.
Dumbledore chuckled, "Molly would like to think so, yes. Well. I am sure Percy Weasley is one of the more responsible Weasleys... so I wouldn't be surprised if he ends up as Head Boy, eh, Minerva? Next... new curriculum..." Here, the Headmaster sighed. "I know that a few of you have put in for some fresh resources last semester... And I know that many of you would like to update your curriculum this year. Or at the least, very soon. Potions – as usual, Severus, you never are happy with the suggestions that are available on the market. Perhaps you should write a set yourself? Runes... Arithmancy... Muggle Studies... I do feel, Charity, that your request is most pressing. I agree that your curriculum is seriously outdated and we should consider a new textbook fairly soon. You and I can discuss it at greater length. As for the rest of you, I would like you to put together three curriculum which you think would not only teach children well but raise the academic standard here at Hogwarts – and submit the titles to me with reasons as to why you think the suggested texts are adequate candidates for consideration. Any other questions?"
"Should we consider money as an important factor?" asked Vector.
"Ahhh... good question..." Dumbledore's eyes rested on the Arithmancy professor. "Should you consider barnacles as an important factor?"
"Ah... Barnacles?"
"Barnacles, Septima. Certainly, consider money to be a factor, if you so desire. I will expect you to submit your list before the winter holidays. Including you, Severus. I know you are going to try to tell me that on second thought you are quite happy with your curriculum, however... humour an old man."
Snape's scowl deepened even further, making Quirrell squeak a little (since the turbaned gentleman was getting the main blast of Snape's displeasure). McGonagall smirked.
"That's for complaining so much every year," she whispered.
Dumbledore was moving on, so Snape bit back a snarl.
"Which reminds me of this old woman I met in Cornwall – her son was coming to visit. He normally lives in, ah... America... and I found it very amusing to hear how he struggled with the vocabulary. Which I thought very humorous since it is English. It is amazing how the differences can seem so great. Curious thought..."
"Well, some people find it difficult to understand some forms of Gaelic or Celtic," Filius shrugged. "If he didn't do his homework... he would be a little confused, I am sure. I heard that in America, Muggles call the lavatory... bathroom... or washroom."
"On the continent, they sometimes refer to it as the W.C.," Pomfrey added.
Realizing that the entire faculty had seemed to have gone down yet another rabbit-hole, Snape decided to write out a list of potions he needed to make before classes began. Around him, conversation swirled over the variety of English one could discover over the world. Binns, he noted, had fallen fast asleep. Madam Pomfrey, Sinistra and Vector also looked a little restless.
His lips twisted. They probably want to get out of here as much as I do. He glared at his list now complete. The conversation was still spiralling out of control. Massaging the bridge of his nose, Snape began a list of potion ingredients he would need to stock up for his personal storehouse. Would the Headmaster want Veritaserum made? Or some Felix Felicitas?
"... I heard from a friend of my cousin that Canadian accents can be a bit different from American..."
"I heard they spell the British way," Professor Babbling was agreeing. "But I've never been."
"... well, some Muggles just sound different in America..."
"... Southern accents..."
"... voodoo witches in New Orleans always so distinctive..."
"... Asian accent no better than..."
"... Cho Chang is not..."
"... Patils are coming aren't they?"
"... versus Chang..."
"... hardly fair to compare them, I'm sure..."
Potion ingredient list done, Snape began another list of 'Things To Prepare For Slytherin Arrivals'. Halfway through, Dumbledore coughed lightly bringing everyone's attention to the front of the room.
"As interesting as it is to discuss the merits of English accents, we should really continue on, since I am sure we all have things we'd like to get accomplished today, besides talking. Next up – the usual yearly requisitions. If you need any chairs or desks or other furniture – only your classroom furniture et cetera – please request using this form. Only articles pertaining to your classroom – not your personal rooms, that is. Yes, er, Sybil?"
"Does this include crystal balls?"
"Ahhh... that would go under classroom materials, yes... yes, I think you could."
"Ah, Albus, Sybil... I decided this summer to edit the form. I created a couple of forms for requisitions." Minerva waved her wand and a few more (bloody!) forms landed on everyone's piles. "There is a Classroom Furniture Requisition form – that is, for desks or any kind of large furniture you may need. Or not need. Also there is a Classroom Furniture Repair Request Form. For other smaller classroom equipment, such as crystal balls, spare parchment, quills et cetera, you must use the Classroom Supplies Request Form. I also created a few extra forms - Personal Rooms Furniture Requisition form – for your personal housing rooms and a Personal Rooms Furniture Repair Request Form..."
Snape could feel a headache coming on.
"All forms should be submitted to Filch's box, as per usual. If any of you have requests – please submit it before the end of August so we can install anything before the students arrive. Thank you."
"Ahhh... thank you, Minerva. Please, use the forms, everyone – it will make our lives much easier and with more organization, Argus and the elves will be able to get us what we need in a timely manner," Dumbledore smiled. "Next up are the class listings. I have broken them down into years, as per usual. The most important thing about attendance this year is that it looks like we may have up to five or six students per House – for those who are interested in the small betting pot which Septima and Bathsheda always run, please contact them. I have put in my twenty galleons already..."
Looking down the list, Snape's eyes fixed on the First Year students. Crabbe... Goyle... Draco Malfoy. It was as he had expected. Lucius had, of course, invited him for dinner on the day Draco had received his first letter. Snape's lips curved up in a smirk as he remembered his godson's cocky air of assurance. The young peacock was more than ready for the school.
Is Hogwarts ready for him? That remains to be seen. Of course.. this year won't be easy for everyone... least of all me. What with... His eyes scanned down the other lists and halted on the name.
The name.
That name.
And the bloody calendar rose up in his mind's eye. Mere weeks. Mere weeks until the beginning of school and...
Harry. Bloody. Potter.
He could just imagine the boy. A spitting image of James. Smirking. Strutting. Arrogant. Rude. Looking down on anything that didn't fit in his world. Looking down on him.
Tense fingers crinkled the paper. With careful deliberation, Snape set the paper down, smoothing out the edges, ignoring Dumbledore's measured gaze.
"... attendance being up this year... diligence..."
Dumbledore was still droning on, Snape's eyes, riveted on the paper, was already conjuring up images of James Potter's son. Around him, he could hear rising whispers as the others also noticed the name.
"... and of course, Harry Potter will have received his letter..."
The dark-haired Potions Master knew that Dumbledore's eyes came to rest on him more often than not. He twitched and tried to relax. The last thing I want is the bloody codger to bully me into sharing my feelings... Snape sighed, and tried to look interested.
"I heard from Hagrid that there was a little issue but it's smoothed out and within weeks, we will be able to welcome someone whom we have all been waiting to meet."
Waiting to meet? Ha! Bloody likely!
"So, on that encouraging note, we can finally draw an end to our meeting here. Tomorrow, we meet again at the same time to discuss classroom management policies. Minerva, Filius, Pomona, Quirinus and Severus, I need to talk to you in the Headmaster's Office. To discuss a private matter."
Dumbledore sat down and everyone shuffled their papers together, talking excitedly. The Headmaster winked at Snape, who sniffed and made his way over to the coffee.
Coffee. That's what I need. And perhaps, a headache potion.
Binns was drifting out through the door (literally) – but everyone stayed more or less put. Snape had a feeling that it would be awhile before everyone would allow the Headmaster to leave.
"... I remember that night so well!" McGonagall was saying. "It passed like a blur – and you know, not many people really knew what was going on – it was so sudden, wasn't it?"
"Yes, Minerva, it was indeed something... 'out of the blue'..." Dumbledore nodded. "You spent a large portion of the day as a cat, if I remember correctly. Waiting for Harry."
"Watching those dreadful Muggles!"
"... Hagrid was crying, wasn't he?" (That was Sprout.)
"Ah, well... he felt so close to Harry..."
"What were you doing, Poppy?"
Hooch's voice drowned out Pomfrey's reply, as she turned from Burbage to accost Snape. Her hawk-like eyes tried to pin down the greasy-haired Potions professor, but the tall man wasn't having any of it. Inscrutable as always, Hooch thought. Of course, he always did treat his coffee like his precious potions. When Snape finished stirring his coffee (clockwise, twelve times), Hooch moved in for the kill.
"What did you do this summer, Severus?" she asked heartily. "Read? Invent some potions?"
"Something like that," he said coolly, remembering the quiet of his small home with its comfortingly packed bookshelves.
"Didn't get out for any fresh air, did you, man? Unnatural, I call it."
Severus refrained from noting that his neighbourhood wasn't known for its fresh air, but contented himself with snorting something about the overrated qualities of fresh air. Charity looked weakly at the two teachers and finally intervened with a:
"Now, Rolanda, I'm sure Severus did get out a bit. He's just not into... you know... 'road-trips'."
"I never did see any real redemptive qualities in barnacles," he snorted.
"Barnacles! I'm sure there's more to the outdoors than barnacles!" Hooch shook her head and then turned away abruptly to catch Pomona as she got herself some more tea.
"Well, that was..." Charity said – but any further thought withered under Severus' severe gaze.
The Potions Master made his way back to his chair, Charity trailing behind him.
"We were just discussing what we were doing the night He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named died," Minerva turned to the Muggle Studies Professor.
"I was saying how the night seemed so strange – there I was reviewing some charms – and then, the good news..." Filius recalled. "It was a rather late night..."
What were you doing when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was defeated... Snape snorted to himself. It was a common enough topic. Something he never liked to remember...
"Oh..." Charity thought hard. "I studying. I remember that I had just turned down an invitation to go to a party – and I was sitting there when my friend popped in with the news... totally beside herself... and of course, well... studying just kind of... got left by the wayside..." The younger teacher turned to the Potions Master, leaning against Filius' chair. "What about you, Severus? What were you up to on that night?"
The innocent question fell like a rather heavy stone into a peaceful pond. Instantly, the room became silent as all eyes drifted over Snape's way. Dark eyes glared at dark coffee as the Potions Master tensed up.
"Perhaps," Dumbledore finally said. "That would be best left for... another time..." He patted Charity's hand gently. Charity nodded, face flushed and drifted back to her seat further down the table – far away from Snape.
Snape stared down at his coffee, eyes a little blank, memory far away. He was in Godric's Hollow, blundering up the stairs, past James' body, down the small hallway – and there it was – the baby's bedroom lit by the occasional lightning strike... and the baby was sitting there – tears streaking its fat cheeks – scar stark on its forehead – in the white crib – but Snape's eyes were only for his beautiful Lily... Lily of the green eyes... He drew her up into his arms, crying like wounded animal...
"... no one knows what he was up to..."
"... there are some rumours..."
"... Dumbledore says we can't talk about it..."
Ignoring the chattering woman, Snape turned and sat in his favourite armchair near the empty hearth. In two or more months, it will be lit, he thought. In less than a month, I will have to face my memories. Will he be like his mother at all? Does it even matter?
He couldn't decide.