Chapter Three: Pumpkin Juice
When I strode into the Great Hall that evening, I was not expecting the startled and surprised eyes of every single student at Hogwarts to be trained on me. I stopped abruptly as a wind of insecurity brushed by me. Harry Potter squeezed my hand and tried his best to hide within my robes.
I looked from side to side, not moving my head an inch. I hear if you're anything less than completely still, they'll attack.
"Cute kid, Professor!" one of the students yelled. A murmur of approval followed.
Professor Dumbledore winked and gave me a thumbs up from the faculty table. I wasn't sure what this inane gesture meant, or what the insufferable old man was getting at, but it infuriated me. I scowled and dragged the boy up to the head table, attempting to ignore the curious chatter of the students.
"Too much attention, Severus?" Professor McGonagall asked teasingly. I glared.
"You can take. . . this now," I spat, relinquishing Harry Potter's hand to the transfiguration professor. "He's seen the Astronomy Tower."
"Ah," she smiled down at the boy. "Did you like the Astronomy Tower, Harry?"
The boy nodded his head vigorously. "It was really high! And Severus didn't even swing me by my-"
I slapped my hand over the boy's mouth, and flashed my old professor an award-winning smile. It wouldn't do well to get sacked a month into the job for threatening the savior of the wizarding world.
McGonagall, however, raised her eyebrows suspiciously. "What did you do, young man?"
I blushed.. "Erm...nothing. Young Mr. Potter here was just talking about a little joke we had, weren't you?" I nudged the child, who was looking at me with an odd expression. I took my hand away as he nodded.
"It was just a little joke," he repeated shyly, retreating into my robes again. I felt him hug my leg and couldn't stop the feeling of foreboding.
"Potter, why don't you sit with Professor McGonagall during supper?" I asked, gently guiding him out of my robes and giving him a shove in the direction of the woman. "Become acquainted."
"B-but-" I picked him up and set him on McGonagall's lap.
"That's a good lad," I cut him off, already on my way to the other side of the table. I plopped down next to Dumbledore and helped myself to mashed potatoes without so much as a greeting.
"I'm happy to see you and Harry getting along, Severus," the headmaster smiled. "He seems to have become rather attached to you."
I glanced at the boy, who was now sitting in his own chair next to McGonagall. He was already looking at me hopefully.
"Bloody Potter," I growled, my mouth full of my mashed potatoes.
"Swallow before speaking, Severus," Professor Sprout advised. I think she takes her profession a bit too seriously, as she isn't so much as looking at the meat. Her plate is full of vegetables.
I snatched up my goblet, holding the woman with a glare while doing so. When the taste of pumpkin juice entered my mouth, I couldn't help but spit it all back out, causing the headmaster to look at me in surprise.
"Severus, you're a wizard. You went to this school for seven years. You're used to the taste of pumpkin juice," he reminded me.
"I always have wine at dinner," I replied. I looked around the table suspiciously. "All of you have wine. Why do I have pumpkin juice?" I looked at Potter, who was still looking at me as if I were a godsend. "Does Potter have wine?"
"Of course not, Severus," McGonagall snapped. "Don't be ridiculous. He has pumpkin juice just like you."
For some reason, that statement made me even more furious.
"Why do I have to have pumpkin juice like Potter? I'm not a child!" I caught my own whiny tone and cleared my throat. "I mean...why do I suddenly have pumpkin juice? Why won't anyone answer my question?" I looked to Dumbledore expectantly.
"Why do you think, Severus." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. . . and he said it so goddamned matter-of-factly.
I grumbled more unneccessary and unmentionable swears beneath my breath.
"What was that, Severus?" he asked sharply.
"Nothing."
I gulped down my remaining pumpkin juice and got to my feet. "I'm going to my dungeons," I announced importantly (after all, I am important). "I'll see you all in the morning."
It had been a trying day. I needed some firewhiskey.
***
I'm not entirely sure what it was that drove me to do it. Maybe it was defiance; perhaps it was indignation. Anger, definitely anger. I would describe it in harsher terms, though...such as rage, or even ire.
Whatever the cause, I'll willfully admit that it was regrettable. I might as well have killed another Muggle, as at least a homicidal act would not incite such deplorable humiliation.
"SEVERUS SNAPE!"
The fury of Minerva McGonagall's admonishment was only strengthened by the pain it brought me. She hollered at me in front of the whole school: the faculty, the students, the ghosts. . .
"Of all the foolish. . . you reek of it! Your eyes are bloodshot! You're still completely inebriated! What do you think you're doing? No, don't open your mouth. Do not answer." I would have snapped my mouth shut if it had actually been open. She was so infuriated, she was ahead of herself. "You will listen to me. You will NEVER do this again. Do you understand me? If you have one spot of sense in you, you'll go to your chambers this instant and throw out every ounce of alcohol in your possession. . . "
It went on like that for some time. Whenever I looked to Professor Dumbledore for help, he bit his lip and looked to the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall as if he'd never seen the sky before. Whenever I would look past McGonagall's looming figure, I'd see the students at their respective tables, hiding their giggles behind their hands. Of course these glances came at the price of "You will look at me when I'm talking to you!", but I chanced it.
I don't know what she was angrier about, the fact that I was drunk or the fact that while I was in my earlier stages of drinking, I'd shared with house prefects. I thought it was the perfect revenge: ruining the image of the perfect prefect.
When she stopped for a moment to catch her breath, I asked, "So. . .will I be sacked?"
She just stared at me for some time, breathing heavily, her face red from yelling. "As much as I think you deserve to be fired, the headmaster has a more lenient, if not more appropriate punishment in mind. Despite the fact that you shared alcohol with minors. . ." she grumbled on, so I tuned out again.
After the older transfiguration professor had finally taken her seat and rather furiously tucked into her food., I looked to the Headmaster expectantly.
***
"I can't believe this is happening," I growled, setting Harry Potter on the dungeon floor. "I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe this is happening..."
"Professor Snape?" Bill Weasley asked. "Are you okay?"
I arched an eyebrow at the 5th year redheaded Gryffindor prefect. He had consumed about a shot.
"That was pretty harsh, being yelled at in front of the entire school like that," he continued. "My mum sent me a howler once in second year because my grade in Herbology wasn't all it should have been. It was sort of like that."
Right. It had been a far bigger mistake than I had thought. Now they thought I was their friend.
"Well, thank you for you concern, Mr. Weasley-" I began, my voiced laced with venom.
"Be nice, Severus," Harry Potter ordered, poking my leg with his finger.
Bill Weasley looked at the boy wide-eyed and then looked back to me. I bit my tongue and attempted to control myself. In a calmer tone, I continued. "Although I am grateful for your regard, Mr. Weasley, I assure you that my situation is far different from such an insipid 2nd year-"
Harry Potter pinched my calf.
"...your relation to my circumstances this morning is completely relevant and I must say that I am substantially more cheerful due to your compassion." I think the fabrication that was my smile scared the boy, for he merely nodded respectfully and scampered off.
I turned to little Harry Potter, who was grinning at me sheepishly.
"You just weren't very nice, Severus," he said, leaning against my leg. "'Albus told me to tell you off when I thought you were being naughty. 'Nerva told me to pinch you."
Yes, this had been Albus's appropriately lenient punishment. Harry Potter had been promoted to the position of my babysitter.
"I'm sorry," the boy sulked.. "I don't know why you were told off this morning, but it must have been really bad. I don't want you to be mad at me. I have to. Albus and 'Nerva said I have to."
I rolled my eyes and patted the boy lightly on the head. It was going to be a long day.
***
"You! What are you doing? The scales should go in AFTER the eyes. You fool! Your potion is supposed to be blue, not brown. Of all the-" I stopped abruptly when the first year burst into tears.
Harry Potter tugged on my robe and shook his head.
"Say you're sorry," he demanded, staring me down while pointing to the boy.
'You ridiculous, little-ow!"
Harry Potter had pinched me again.
"Say you're sorry," he repeated firmly, determination set on his little face.
The children stared at me in horror. All was silent apart from the boiling cauldrons.
First the morning scolding, now this. Out of the two, I'd say this the more humiliating.
"I'm sorry," I growled. "Don't screw up ag-ow!" I gritted my teeth. "Try better next time."
Yes. This was much worse.
***
"I'm sorry, Severus," Harry Potter said for the tenth time. "You have to understand that I don't have a choice. Albus and 'Nerva-"
"Are insufferable," I interrupted.
"What's that mean?"
"It means that they're great," I said. 'Amazing and brilliant."
He looked at me suspiciously, but didn't question. Good lad.
That night at supper, I drank my pumpkin juice without complaint.
When I strode into the Great Hall that evening, I was not expecting the startled and surprised eyes of every single student at Hogwarts to be trained on me. I stopped abruptly as a wind of insecurity brushed by me. Harry Potter squeezed my hand and tried his best to hide within my robes.
I looked from side to side, not moving my head an inch. I hear if you're anything less than completely still, they'll attack.
"Cute kid, Professor!" one of the students yelled. A murmur of approval followed.
Professor Dumbledore winked and gave me a thumbs up from the faculty table. I wasn't sure what this inane gesture meant, or what the insufferable old man was getting at, but it infuriated me. I scowled and dragged the boy up to the head table, attempting to ignore the curious chatter of the students.
"Too much attention, Severus?" Professor McGonagall asked teasingly. I glared.
"You can take. . . this now," I spat, relinquishing Harry Potter's hand to the transfiguration professor. "He's seen the Astronomy Tower."
"Ah," she smiled down at the boy. "Did you like the Astronomy Tower, Harry?"
The boy nodded his head vigorously. "It was really high! And Severus didn't even swing me by my-"
I slapped my hand over the boy's mouth, and flashed my old professor an award-winning smile. It wouldn't do well to get sacked a month into the job for threatening the savior of the wizarding world.
McGonagall, however, raised her eyebrows suspiciously. "What did you do, young man?"
I blushed.. "Erm...nothing. Young Mr. Potter here was just talking about a little joke we had, weren't you?" I nudged the child, who was looking at me with an odd expression. I took my hand away as he nodded.
"It was just a little joke," he repeated shyly, retreating into my robes again. I felt him hug my leg and couldn't stop the feeling of foreboding.
"Potter, why don't you sit with Professor McGonagall during supper?" I asked, gently guiding him out of my robes and giving him a shove in the direction of the woman. "Become acquainted."
"B-but-" I picked him up and set him on McGonagall's lap.
"That's a good lad," I cut him off, already on my way to the other side of the table. I plopped down next to Dumbledore and helped myself to mashed potatoes without so much as a greeting.
"I'm happy to see you and Harry getting along, Severus," the headmaster smiled. "He seems to have become rather attached to you."
I glanced at the boy, who was now sitting in his own chair next to McGonagall. He was already looking at me hopefully.
"Bloody Potter," I growled, my mouth full of my mashed potatoes.
"Swallow before speaking, Severus," Professor Sprout advised. I think she takes her profession a bit too seriously, as she isn't so much as looking at the meat. Her plate is full of vegetables.
I snatched up my goblet, holding the woman with a glare while doing so. When the taste of pumpkin juice entered my mouth, I couldn't help but spit it all back out, causing the headmaster to look at me in surprise.
"Severus, you're a wizard. You went to this school for seven years. You're used to the taste of pumpkin juice," he reminded me.
"I always have wine at dinner," I replied. I looked around the table suspiciously. "All of you have wine. Why do I have pumpkin juice?" I looked at Potter, who was still looking at me as if I were a godsend. "Does Potter have wine?"
"Of course not, Severus," McGonagall snapped. "Don't be ridiculous. He has pumpkin juice just like you."
For some reason, that statement made me even more furious.
"Why do I have to have pumpkin juice like Potter? I'm not a child!" I caught my own whiny tone and cleared my throat. "I mean...why do I suddenly have pumpkin juice? Why won't anyone answer my question?" I looked to Dumbledore expectantly.
"Why do you think, Severus." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. . . and he said it so goddamned matter-of-factly.
I grumbled more unneccessary and unmentionable swears beneath my breath.
"What was that, Severus?" he asked sharply.
"Nothing."
I gulped down my remaining pumpkin juice and got to my feet. "I'm going to my dungeons," I announced importantly (after all, I am important). "I'll see you all in the morning."
It had been a trying day. I needed some firewhiskey.
***
I'm not entirely sure what it was that drove me to do it. Maybe it was defiance; perhaps it was indignation. Anger, definitely anger. I would describe it in harsher terms, though...such as rage, or even ire.
Whatever the cause, I'll willfully admit that it was regrettable. I might as well have killed another Muggle, as at least a homicidal act would not incite such deplorable humiliation.
"SEVERUS SNAPE!"
The fury of Minerva McGonagall's admonishment was only strengthened by the pain it brought me. She hollered at me in front of the whole school: the faculty, the students, the ghosts. . .
"Of all the foolish. . . you reek of it! Your eyes are bloodshot! You're still completely inebriated! What do you think you're doing? No, don't open your mouth. Do not answer." I would have snapped my mouth shut if it had actually been open. She was so infuriated, she was ahead of herself. "You will listen to me. You will NEVER do this again. Do you understand me? If you have one spot of sense in you, you'll go to your chambers this instant and throw out every ounce of alcohol in your possession. . . "
It went on like that for some time. Whenever I looked to Professor Dumbledore for help, he bit his lip and looked to the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall as if he'd never seen the sky before. Whenever I would look past McGonagall's looming figure, I'd see the students at their respective tables, hiding their giggles behind their hands. Of course these glances came at the price of "You will look at me when I'm talking to you!", but I chanced it.
I don't know what she was angrier about, the fact that I was drunk or the fact that while I was in my earlier stages of drinking, I'd shared with house prefects. I thought it was the perfect revenge: ruining the image of the perfect prefect.
When she stopped for a moment to catch her breath, I asked, "So. . .will I be sacked?"
She just stared at me for some time, breathing heavily, her face red from yelling. "As much as I think you deserve to be fired, the headmaster has a more lenient, if not more appropriate punishment in mind. Despite the fact that you shared alcohol with minors. . ." she grumbled on, so I tuned out again.
After the older transfiguration professor had finally taken her seat and rather furiously tucked into her food., I looked to the Headmaster expectantly.
***
"I can't believe this is happening," I growled, setting Harry Potter on the dungeon floor. "I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe this is happening..."
"Professor Snape?" Bill Weasley asked. "Are you okay?"
I arched an eyebrow at the 5th year redheaded Gryffindor prefect. He had consumed about a shot.
"That was pretty harsh, being yelled at in front of the entire school like that," he continued. "My mum sent me a howler once in second year because my grade in Herbology wasn't all it should have been. It was sort of like that."
Right. It had been a far bigger mistake than I had thought. Now they thought I was their friend.
"Well, thank you for you concern, Mr. Weasley-" I began, my voiced laced with venom.
"Be nice, Severus," Harry Potter ordered, poking my leg with his finger.
Bill Weasley looked at the boy wide-eyed and then looked back to me. I bit my tongue and attempted to control myself. In a calmer tone, I continued. "Although I am grateful for your regard, Mr. Weasley, I assure you that my situation is far different from such an insipid 2nd year-"
Harry Potter pinched my calf.
"...your relation to my circumstances this morning is completely relevant and I must say that I am substantially more cheerful due to your compassion." I think the fabrication that was my smile scared the boy, for he merely nodded respectfully and scampered off.
I turned to little Harry Potter, who was grinning at me sheepishly.
"You just weren't very nice, Severus," he said, leaning against my leg. "'Albus told me to tell you off when I thought you were being naughty. 'Nerva told me to pinch you."
Yes, this had been Albus's appropriately lenient punishment. Harry Potter had been promoted to the position of my babysitter.
"I'm sorry," the boy sulked.. "I don't know why you were told off this morning, but it must have been really bad. I don't want you to be mad at me. I have to. Albus and 'Nerva said I have to."
I rolled my eyes and patted the boy lightly on the head. It was going to be a long day.
***
"You! What are you doing? The scales should go in AFTER the eyes. You fool! Your potion is supposed to be blue, not brown. Of all the-" I stopped abruptly when the first year burst into tears.
Harry Potter tugged on my robe and shook his head.
"Say you're sorry," he demanded, staring me down while pointing to the boy.
'You ridiculous, little-ow!"
Harry Potter had pinched me again.
"Say you're sorry," he repeated firmly, determination set on his little face.
The children stared at me in horror. All was silent apart from the boiling cauldrons.
First the morning scolding, now this. Out of the two, I'd say this the more humiliating.
"I'm sorry," I growled. "Don't screw up ag-ow!" I gritted my teeth. "Try better next time."
Yes. This was much worse.
***
"I'm sorry, Severus," Harry Potter said for the tenth time. "You have to understand that I don't have a choice. Albus and 'Nerva-"
"Are insufferable," I interrupted.
"What's that mean?"
"It means that they're great," I said. 'Amazing and brilliant."
He looked at me suspiciously, but didn't question. Good lad.
That night at supper, I drank my pumpkin juice without complaint.