Hello, friends! Here is another (very) short little chapter! I'm afraid there's no Neville this time around, but hey, we get another look into Snape's character and motivations. A brief note on that: this fic is a very charitable interpretation of dear Severus, to say the least. I don't usually headcannon Snape as faking most of his general evilness/terrible teaching practices, but for the Sake of The Plot!
In other news, I've only really posted on Ao3 before this, and I must admit I find the mechanics of this site a bit frustrating, particularly the fact that my italics keep disappearing! I swear they show up when I copy and paste into the app, and then the disappear when I save (cue inarticulate noise of frustration). On the bright side, it's training me to be more circumspect in my use of said italics, which can only be a good thing. ;)
Finally, a sneak peek at next time: Neville is awesome, and Harry's smarter than Snape thinks!
Without further ado, I give you:
CHAPTER 2: A SERPENTINE INTROSPECTION
He decides that, at the very least, he could afford to redirect most of his vitriol in the direction of Potter. If he does absolutely nothing in retribution for the Boggart, people will think him polyjuiced. However, it is reasonable enough that he might have been discreetly warned not to take it out on Longbottom himself. In fact, he thinks he has been warned, if Minerva's fierce looks over breakfast the morning of his first lesson with Longbottom since the Boggart incident are anything to judge by. He gives her a slow, unpleasant smile, and has the dubious pleasure of watching her contemplate dumping her tea in his lap.
His relationship with Minerva has always been...fraught, to say the least. She was his teacher once, and remains one of the few faculty members he holds in high esteem. While fiercely protective of her lions, she has always been very fair in her punishments and point allocations, and generally refrains from criticizing his own blatant favoritism. She understands as few Gryffindors could how difficult it is to be Head of a house that is largely ostracized by three quarters of the school, is riddled with spoiled children of influence, and is prejudiced against his own half-blood status. He likes to think that if he were free to handle matters as he chose, he would not be so cowardly as to allow such difficulties to bother him, but he is grateful enough that Minerva doesn't hold it against him.
What she does hold against him are those necessities of his role that render him into a truly terrifying and vicious figure. He has no illusions about the fact that he is neither kind nor a good man. He takes a bitter sort of pleasure in tearing inflated teenage egos to shreds, and enjoys the power that his words and reputation grant him. He is not so foolish as to think that even if he were free to teach as he chose, he would ever be liked. But not all of his cruelties come natural to him, and it stings more than he would care to admit that every time he says something cutting to Longbottom, he loses a little more of Minerva's respect.
Because she does respect him, he thinks. Although the burdens of his past constrain him, he has a skill with potions that is rare even among Masters. The potions he brews for the Madame Pomfrey are superior to anything she might get elsewhere, and—unlikely as it seems—he possesses a talent for healing magic as well. This last, he suspects, might be the true root of Minerva's esteem, for although he despises attempting to cram knowledge of his beloved art into the reluctant heads of idiot children, though he has spent half his life in bitter unhappiness, he finds a small measure of self respect in taking on the duty of protecting not only Lily's child, but all the children. He does not bother with their tempestuous emotions, but if a child is ever seriously hurt, he will be there offering Poppy whatever aid he can provide. Minerva has found him over the beds of too many of her lions not to know this, and this is what has earned her respect.
He does not want her to ever know how much this small measure of respect means to him.
xxx
Potter has not ever been afraid of him, not even when he was pint-sized first year. This both galls and relieves him in equal measure. It is necessary, has always been necessary, for him to appear to despise the so called Boy-Who-Lived. That he is the spitting image of James Potter makes this easier, and so he deliberately does not look past Potter's hair and Potter's glasses, to see if there is anything of Lily present. It is a dangerous balancing act—protecting Lily's son while allowing himself to despise James's—and sometimes he slips, forgetting that it is not in fact James Potter standing in front of him. His cutting words and contempt bleed into true malice, and it is those times that he most hates the defiant face of Potter's spawn. His words cut deeper, his actions veer into the truly unacceptable, and he despises that he holds no power over Potter; that nothing he can do can bring fear into James Potter's face.
It is only one of many unforgivable things he has done.
When the rage fades and he is alone again, he is always unspeakably relieved. He has seen hatred from Lily's eyes before, and though it still cuts him somewhere deep inside, it is no more than he deserves, even from Potter, who for all his hatred knows nothing of Severus's true crimes.
But he does not think he could ever bear it if Lily's eyes looked at him with fear.