A black, empty soul looked back through dark chocolate eyes that had a fringe of twilight resignation shinning in their depths. Raven colored hair fell in greasy strands over the drawn brow. Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts, lifted one hand towards the blackboard. Long strands of chalk writing formed themselves into rows of instructions and ingredients. He was teaching a class of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.
First years.
The humanity that stared back at him in those innocent, wide eyes was more than enough to send the man into an internal rage. A sneer curled his lips back, his nose wrinkling at the pure disgust roiling through him at that moment. Children - students - were all so hopeful. If only they knew that Dark Lords and the threat of war would meet them at the threshold of adulthood.
Harry Potter may vanquish Voldemort, but Severus doubted it. Not that it mattered much to these first years. The Potions Master knew from long experience that another Dark Lord would come into power. With weariness the black haired man looked down his large nose at the children who were in his care for the next hour.
If he had any say, they would not reach puberty with the delusion the Headmaster would rather them believe. There would be no better future, no reprieve from the darkness. Severus Snape taught with all the rancor he wished someone had thrown his way during his own years as a student. Maybe then he would have turned out different - it all would have turned out different.
THE END