The Sorting
The line of first years filtered into the Great Hall. This lot looked even jitterier than most years. A few of them pointed at the golden plates and goblets, or at the ceiling, leaning back to look at it.
Severus Snape drummed his fingers on the table next to his goblet. Beside him, Quirrel quivered.
The Occlumency required for his dangerous role of a double agent was laughably easy tonight. His stomach flipped and rolled in a strange mixture of anger and nerves when he spotted a shock of dark hair amongst the first years.
He kept his eye on McGonagall as the Sorting began. He didn't want to see her eyes. Not yet. Not on the face of Potter's son.
The Sorting seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time. It dragged through children of Death Eaters and members of the Order alike. At the moment, they were united in their fear and anxiety, unaware of the years of animosity before them.
Lucius Malfoy's son was called. Snape watched as the hat just barely touched his head. Heard the house shouted to the entire Hall. The wild flee on the boy's face reminded Snape of his own Sorting. The feeling of being accepted to the honor of Slytherin house. Of being able to carry on the family legacy.
A few more names passed, and then he was called.
Snape averted his eyes from the three-legged stool until the boy was sitting, and then he sneaked in a glance sideways.
The hat covered the entirety of the boy's head, but from what Snape could see, he looked just like Potter.
The hat debated for a while- too long. Snape's stomach flipped again. What if-? But he could not let that hope enter his mind…
The hate quivered, then the rip opened and the loud voice called out:
"Gryffindor!"
Snape watched the boy's face light up with relief, and then his nervous walk to the Gryffindor table. Snape forced himself to keep watching the boy- sooner or later, he would have to glance up.
Food appeared on the table. Quirrel leaned over to retrieve a chicken leg, and then recoiled when he caught the glare on Snape's face.
"W-w-would y-you p-p-pass m-me that p-pl-platter, S-Severus?"
In the process of shoving the plate nearly into Quirrel's lap, Snape glanced at the boy again. This time, the boy was looking back.
Lily's eyes shone with all the brilliance that Snape remembered. The next second, Potter's son had clapped a hand to his forehead in horror. Snape quickly looked away and attempted to drag Quirrel into conversation.
The hard walls of his Occlumency shield up, Snape did not look toward the Gryffindor table again.
