The morning found Severus sitting at the table in the staff room, carefully avoiding the Great Hall. Despite what the meddlesome Headmaster might think he knew about his 'best interests', Severus knew for a fact that he did not want to speak to anyone at all today. That he had classes to teach was an unfortunate fact, and one which his students would likely bemoan with a vehemence to match his own. He was in no mood to tolerate stupidity today, and wasn't it just fantastic that he had Gryffindor and Slytherin First Years for two entire hours this morning? And that distinct pleasure was made only more memorable by the hour of Second Years before the First Years arrived. And then, after lunch, he had the damn Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff First and Second Years. It was something that Severus was sure Dumbledore arranged on purpose every year—there was always one day when he had to contend with the youngest students for the entire day, with barely time at lunch to put his temper on a shelf somewhere. If he had to teach First and Second Years in one day, couldn't he at least have an hour's break in there when his presence wasn't required in the Great Hall to monitor lunch?
Just thinking about it was enough to prompt him to lower his head onto his arms on the table and sigh. Seven solid hours of the brats. Even Fridays, when he had classes literally all day, from 8 in the morning until 5 in the evening, wasn't so bad. At least those students were the Fourth and Fifth Years, and his NEWT class, which was actually enjoyable. It wasn't that he disliked the students, not really, but he had limited patience with stupidity, and First and Second Years seemed to have that in spades.
"Good Morning, Severus!" came a voice that was entirely too cheerful and could only belong to one person.
"Drop dead, McGonagall," he muttered. She knew how he hated Tuesdays and she knew exactly why, and he suspected that she felt rather the same way about Thursdays, given her normal reticence on that day. She took his sour mood in stride, though, as she always did, perhaps giving him a bit more sympathetic slack for his scheduling woes when she knew that he had a difficult day outlined. He always tried to avoid her all together on Thursdays.
"My, aren't we in a chipper mood." On second thought, maybe she wasn't taking his mood in stride. There was an edge to her voice that wasn't normally there unless she was berating one of the students for one of their many senseless acts.
"Remarkably so," he replied blandly, deciding he didn't care enough to lift his head. Besides which, he really didn't want to see her. There were still memories of humiliations at the hands of Gryffindors burned too clearly in his mind for him to face the head of his rival House with anything approaching the dignity that was demanded between colleagues.
"I hope you slept well last night?"
What is this, the Inquisition? He squeezed his eyes closed and silently willed her away, but he knew it was too much to hope for. After a moment, he sighed and sat up, folding his arms across his chest. "Is there something you wanted to discuss, Minerva? Because, plainly, I am not interested in small talk just now."
"Very well," she replied, folding her own arms. "I think you're being quite the jackass lately, and frankly, I'm tired of it."
With a soft snort, Severus raised an eyebrow. "When have I ever not been a jackass, Minerva? I was under the impression that it was a state of being with me."
Her lips tightened into that thin line that he remembered so well from when he was a schoolboy. It was the expression that said she was not amused, and not impressed, and that he wasn't going to like what he heard next, and for a moment, he felt a twitch of something akin to nervousness. It passed quickly, though, as he firmly reminded himself that they were on equal footing here.
"You have been snapping at everyone and everything for the last four months," she replied levelly. "And I, for one, am tired of it. Stop pouting."
Priceless. Simply priceless. Half the people he knew wanted him to turn into a whimpering bundle of emotions, the other half berated him for being moody. It was little wonder he'd decided so long ago that he didn't give a bloody damn what any of them thought of him. "Very well," he replied dryly. "I'll make a note of that, and the next time I find myself pouting I will see that I turn it into something more constructive. And, incidentally, I do not pout."
"Horse shit. You're pouting now. And I want to know what you were doing when you threw Lupin out last night. Do you have any idea the—"
"Bloody fucking hell," he hissed. "He isn't your pet student anymore! You have three more to take his place now. Can't you just leave me out of your little games of—"
"Don't you talk to me about pet students, Severus Snape!" she rebounded, interrupting him as neatly as he had her. "The way you coddle Malfoy is—"
"Is absolutely nothing compared to the way you turn your back on Potter and Weasley! Just like you did the elder Potter and his little gang of—"
"DO YOU EVER FORGET ANYTHING?" she was on her feet now, hands on her hips, staring down at him. The look she leveled on him would have crumbled a mountain, frozen an ocean, stopped an army of Mountain Trolls dead in their tracks. Severus, however, simply returned it, just as cold and as searing, and he didn't move so much as a finger. He'd learned long ago not to let it show if he was intimidated, and it was a small step from not showing it to not acknowledging it, then another small step from not acknowledging it to not being intimidated.
"Seldom," he replied testily.
"Well, forget about things that happened to you when you were a snot-nosed boy!" she bit off each word as though they had a bitter taste to them. If they did, it couldn't have been any more bitter than the feel of those words as they soaked into him.
"Of course," he murmured. "I am not having this conversation. Not today; not right now. Not ever if I have my say in the matter, and considering I am one of the parties involved, I would say that I do." He stood to leave, but, to his surprise, she drew her wand and pointed it at the door. It became a wall, and a steel wall at that.
"You are not leaving this room until you give me a very good explanation as to why you have a chip on your shoulder the size of a hippogriff."
"Or what?" he sneered. "Are you going to give me a detention? Send me to the Headmaster? Perhaps deduct points from me because I don't care to kiss the dirt Potter walks on?"
"Which Potter?" she asked suddenly.
"What?"
"Which Potter?" she repeated, more slowly. "Which Potter are you so angry with?"
Severus' lips curled into one of his signature sneers. "The one whose sole purpose in life seems to be irritating me," he snapped. "The one who had the nerve to…"
"To be born?" she suggested. His eyes narrowed.
"To parade in here like the arrogant fool his father was," Severus hissed. "To walk around the school like he owns it and expects the very walls to bow to his whims."
"And when have you known him to do that?" she asked again. It would have been a reasonable question from anyone but her, to anyone but him, about anything but Potter.
"When has he not?" he replied sharply. "When has he not broken rules that would have seen mere mortals expelled? But no, the god that is James Potter is immune to such trivialities as rules and consequences, isn't he?"
For a long moment, she was quiet, and when she finally spoke, it was with a carefully measured tone, one tight with patience. The sort of tone one might use to explain to a child for the fifth time why he could not have a piece of candy. "James Potter has been dead for fifteen years, Severus. Harry Potter is not his father, and is not responsible for the things his father did. Is that clear?"
There was an ice in her voice that caused Severus to frown and he narrowly missed taking a step away from her. Minerva could be a fearsome woman when she had the mind to be. "I am well aware of that, though I thank you for explaining it so succinctly." he replied, hoping his tone conveyed some small measure of the offense he'd taken at her tone and words.
"And are you well aware that you just called Harry Potter James?" she asked, advancing a step towards him.
Did I? he wondered. He tried to remember. "I hardly see how it matters," he rejoined. "I refer to my students more formally than first-name. It is hardly inexcusable that I don't remember…"
"THAT YOU DON'T REMEMBER THAT ONE OF YOUR STUDENTS IS NOT THE BOY YOU SO DESPISED WHEN YOU WERE A BOY YOURSELF?" The shouting was almost welcome after the icy silence from before. He could much more easily face wrath than that icy silence. "THAT is inexcusable, Severus!" She advanced another step, and he folded his arms again.
"If he didn't act so much like his damn father, perhaps I'd see…"
"You'd still see your boyhood rival," she interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. "You would still see the Gryffindor Seeker with hair that wouldn't obey an order from God and…"
"And his mischief-making, reckless, devil-may-care pursuit of whatever is best for Mr. Potter's entertainment," Severus finished for her. "At least I see him as a person, and not just the Boy Who Lived."
"BUT YOU SEE HIM AS THE WRONG PERSON!"
She actually stomped her foot that time and waved her arms so wildly that she very nearly slapped him. Severus stood his ground. "And," he continued, as though she'd not screeched in his ear like a banshee, "I do not see what this conversation is accomplishing, so, if you will excuse me, Professor, I believe I will spend the remainder of my free period…"
"Sit down, Severus." She pointed her wand at the chair, and he eyed it warily before catching himself. He could almost imagine her transfiguring it into a lion's jaw as soon as he sat in it. A half-formed mental image he'd often had in his youth.
"I believe I'll stand," he replied. "Or better yet, leave." He drew his own wand and pointed it at the wall, where the door should have been, but she snatched the wand from his hand with a practiced motion. One born of decades of manually disarming quarreling students.
"I said to sit," she repeated, pointing at the chair again. "And I expect you to obey me."
"And I expect you to stop treating me like a bloody student!" he snapped back at her.
"THEN STOP ACTING LIKE ONE!"
He stared at her for a moment, then took a deep breath, steeling himself. He sat slowly, taking his time, making it clear that he did so of his own accord and not because she had ordered him to. He ignored the curtain of hair that attempted to fall into his eyes and he folded his arms pointedly across his chest. "Is there something you wished to discuss with me?" he asked when he could trust his voice again. It did not waver with the rage he was systematically tucking away.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath too, then walked towards him, placing a thin hand on his shoulder. He winced slightly, mostly inwardly, at the unfamiliar gesture, but a furtive glance at her face told him she'd noticed. And that she still remembered when he'd winced at her touch twenty-five years ago. "Yes," she replied to his question after a moment. "I want to know if you are all right."
"I'm fine," he replied. "Is that all?"
"No. If you are fine, as you insist to everyone who asks, then why did you turn so violent with Remus last night?"
The corner of Severus' mouth twitched. And there you go again, he thought bitterly. "Because he would not leave when I asked him to. Nicely, then pointedly. And that, Minerva, is one disgrace I do not have to tolerate in my own quarters."
"But why…"
"BECAUSE HE WAS DREDGING UP OLD MEMORIES AND PAIN AND I HAVEN'T THE ENERGY FOR IT RIGHT NOW!" Severus yelled finally. "BECAUSE HE HAPPENS TO BE A MAN I'VE SPENT MORE THAN HALF MY LIFE HATING AND THAT DOESN'T EVAPORATE IN THREE DAYS!"
"Severus…"
"BECAUSE EVERY TIME I FUCKING TURN AROUND, SOMEONE HAS A HAND ON MY SHOULDER ASKING ME IF I'M ALL RIGHT, AND I AM TIRED OF IT!"
"Severus…"
"BECAUSE I DON'T WANT HIS SYMPATHY, OR YOUR SYMPATHY OR ANYONE'S SYMPATHY AND GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF OF ME NOW!" She had placed her hands on his shoulders and was trying to draw him closer, but he was tired of that reaction. He was just tired.
"Professor Snape," she said sharply, and he finally looked at her, and it really was as though he were a boy of sixteen again. She sighed softly. "I had hoped it would not come to this," she said softly, and he felt an odd clenching at his chest. "As Deputy Headmistress, I am relieving you of your classroom duties until…"
"LIKE FUCKING HELL YOU ARE!" he bellowed, standing suddenly and drawing himself up to his full height.
"…until such time as you have regained control of your emotional state. You are a danger to your students in this state," she continued formally, "and I will not…"
"Where is Dumbledore?" He forced his voice calm again, but he could feel the vein pulsing in his temper as he clung to what very little remained of his composure.
"Albus is away from the school for the morning," she replied vaguely. "Severus, please, stop causing such a scene."
His breathing was growing ragged. "You can't fire me," he hissed, his fists clenching and unclenching as his anger seethed.
"I'm not suggesting it," she replied simply. "I am suspending you for health reasons until you…"
"No." He shook his head obstinately.
"Severus," she reached for his arm and he jerked away, fully aware that he was, indeed, pouting now. But pouting was better than ripping her face off. Or trying to, he amended, he didn't think anyone could actually succeed in any such thing. "Severus," she repeated, more insistently, as her hand closed on his arm. "I want you to come with me, quietly."
"No." He simply refused.
"Then come with me noisily," she sighed. "The corridors are filling with students even as we speak, but if you wish to cause a scene, then by all means. But one way or the other, you are going to the Hospital Wing."
"No."
"Severus…"
"Fuck you, Minerva," he hissed. "I don't need…"
"What you need is for someone to turn you over and beat some sense into your arse," she replied, the concern in her voice replaced with irritation again, "and I only regret that no one did that twenty years ago, when there was still hope for you."
His eyes narrowed, and he felt a guarded expression closing his face to her. She couldn't possibly know surely her words had hit their mark. No hope for him. "No," he replied. "I need everyone to leave…me…the…hell…alone."
"Regardless of what you think," she told him, her voice taking on that professional tone again, "you are going to go to visit Madame Pomfrey. Either of your own free will, or under restraint. The choice is yours, Severus."
Hatred flashed in his eyes. "Fine," he hissed. "But as soon as Dumbledore gets back…"
"You will have ample time to talk with him," she assured him. "Now, I am going to open that door and you are going to behave, correct?"
He bristled at being spoken to like a misbehaving teenager again, but he nodded tersely.
"And do you have a suitable alternate lesson plan for your students? One that someone else could offer them? An essay or…"
"Properties of wormwood," he muttered. "Two feet of parchment."
"All right. Come along, now." He noticed with some part of his mind that wasn't busy being pissed off that Minerva tucked both his wand and her own into her robe after she changed the wall back into a door. She did not clutch his arm or say anything as they stepped out of the staff room, and the students did not seem to notice them as they scurried to their classes. She walked briskly beside him, and though she did not have any visible restraint on him, he had no doubt that she was capable of forcing him to do her bidding if he pressed the issue. His mind was already working on the protest he was going to mount with Dumbledore when the Headmaster returned.
They entered the infirmary as the bell tolled the beginning of classes, and Poppy emerged, as though on cue. "Ah," she said with a smile, "Professor Snape. What brings you here?"
She took it in stride well enough. A little too well, in fact, which led Severus to cast a withering look at McGonagall. The old bat had all this planned before she ever began talking to him. "Perhaps Professor McGonagall should explain," he replied venomously. "I, after all, am too incompetent to even discuss truth serums with two dozen children, let alone my own health with two rational adults."
Poppy smiled brightly. "Well, whatever it is, I'm glad to know it hasn't affected your sweet disposition," she commented, then looked to McGonagall, an eyebrow raised.
McGonagall sighed. "Perhaps we could discuss this in your office, Poppy?" she suggested. Poppy's look of confusion seemed genuine enough, and Severus frowned. Perhaps she didn't know everything after all. The nurse gestured them towards her office, and Severus avoided looking at either, setting his usual brisk pace past the handful of students confined to beds. He seated himself, arms folded, and waited for the two women to join him. They arrived shortly after he did, and as soon as the door was shut, Poppy frowned deeply.
"What is going on, Minerva?" she asked, then looked questioningly at Severus, her raised eyebrow asking him the same question.
Severus turned his head and stared blankly out the window.
A/N: thanks for the chapter title suggestions!