Written for Hogwarts' Teachers Week: Severus Snape, turquoise.
Word count: 464
Of Settling In
"So, how's Hogwarts?" Albus asked him one day, eyes twinkling as he blew lightly over his tea. "How are you adjusting?"
Severus winced as he considered it. After all, if there was one thing nobody ever expected out of life, it was to end up friends with the people who had once been your teachers. Or well, friendly. To tell the truth, it was actually a rather awkward thing-or so Severus always thought.
It was one thing to call the Headmaster 'Albus'-Merlin knew the man had asked often enough, and beside the fact that he had seen Severus at his lowest already, he had never really taught Severus anything. Sure, he was probably the most powerful wizard currently alive now that the Dark Lord was dead, but that was hard to remember when you had seen the man wear the most hideous turquoise robes with a yellow hat, or when the man insisted on setting his passwords to all kind of sweets-but it was another entirely to get used to calling his Transfiguration Professor by her first name.
Albus, he could deal with. The old man was exhausting, and sometimes Severus just wanted to tell him where to shove his 'holier-than-thou' attitude and 'Greater Good' nonsense, but he was also familiar. Quantifiable, in a way the rest of his coworkers weren't.
Because they wouldn't leave him alone. Somehow, Albus swearing for him meant that they trusted him-and part of him couldn't understand how it was simply that easy for them, how they could simply ignore all the things he had done, that he had killed… (Lily, his heart still screamed with every heartbeat, no attempt to silence it strong enough) just on someone else's say-so.
Fools, he wanted to spit in their faces, and yet he couldn't. Not when Filius so readily gave him advice he never followed on how to deal with the kids he couldn't stand (which were all of them), or when Minerva argued for her Quidditch team with enough fire to set the air itself ablaze. Not when Pomona smiled at him a little every morning when she handed him the coffee, the only one at the table to understand his preference for it.
They were making it very difficult to hate them by making him want to belong with them, he realized with a sigh.
"I'm adjusting," Severus finally replied, forcing his lips in a sneer that, from the looks of it, didn't fool the Headmaster one bit.
"I'm glad," the old man said, smiling, and the sparkling in his eyes seemed to double.
Severus winced and drank his tea. It was too sweet, but the sooner he finished it, the sooner he could leave.
And Merlin, he couldn't wait to leave.