This story has been adopted from AHBK1, I will do my best to write a story worthy of you as the reader and of AHBK1 as the original author. On that note I sadly do not own Harry Potter or any of the Potter Universe and characters contained within. I am only playing with J.K. Rowling's universe and characters. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter Nine-The Ninth Sketch

Seven weeks, it had been seven weeks since the last sketch and Snape wasn't even sure why he cared, all he knew was that he did, oddly enough. And now, and now it was exam time. Snape was inwardly dancing at the thought of the next month or so absolutely student free. The very thought put a bounce in to his prowling step. A smile tugged at his lips as he sent his sixth years out with a well worded, scathing sentence about dunderheaded attempts to brew easy potions. It was a feeling sign of his good mood that he almost felt sorry for his words, almost, but not quite.

After dinner that night Snape practically skipped to his office, one last bit of marking, his first years unfortunately. That Granger Know-It-All brat had written a ridiculous amount, most of it was just reworded from the text books, not that there was anything wrong with that, but she really needed to learn to reference them. The only thing to give him pause was the sight of a pice of paper stuck to his door. Another one, Snape almost smiled. Almost, but not quite.

The picture was fairly simple, and annoyingly sweet, rustic and sentimental. Snape felt dirtied by just looking at it. Surely it was wrong to have one picture oozing such sentimentality. Shanking himself, Snape eyed the drawing caustically. It was done in the usual and typical rough hand, the lines both flowing and sharp. It was a picture of Hagrid seated at the front of his hut playing the pipe with Potter, Weasley and Granger seated beside him shelling peas. How trite.

Stalking inside, Snape ignored the title, it didn't make any sense whatsoever anyway. Instead, good mood shattered, Snape cracked open a bottle of Odgen's finest and drank a shot or two. He slapped the paper down ignoring it as he then turned his attention to shredding Grangers carefully constructed arguments that did actually have some merit. In the light of the fire, Snape quickly and meanly wrecked more than one dream of potions making as an unidentifiable emotion welled up inside of him.

"The First"