Title: Astray
By: Melusina
Email: Melusina Mayne
Category: angst
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Notes: Many thanks again to my beta Mairi. She checked this story for me. If you find any remaining blunders, blame me for them...
Summary The ultimate answer to the question whether Snape is straight or gay: he is both. But he's not bi. Must be magic - but it's not.
Part Five - Teaching
The next morning Michael was standing in the classroom, nervously awaiting the first students. 1 R/H. He thought that these be might first years, but still didn't know what R/H meant. He couldn't believe that he was standing in this room and that he was really going to do this, but somehow it was just as unthinkable not to do it. Fortunately he had found a plan that showed him the seats of the different students. Snape seemed to have made such a plan for each of his classes, which meant that Michael wouldn't have trouble with the names. From the notes of his double, Michael understood that the students were to be referred to with their family names. It seemed to him a rather old-fashioned habit.
He had extensively studied everything he could find in Snape's desk, but he still didn't have a clue what exactly he would do. His double seemed to be a rather stern taskmaster, judging from the amount of punishments he doled out. Well, he would just see. At least he had decided what he would have his first years do. They had just come to a point in their textbook that covered a lot of theory. He thought it would be good if they just summarised it and then wrote an essay about it, criticising the contents. It would at least keep them at work for quite some time. Perhaps he would have the opportunity to figure out what to do with them by the time they were finished. With that thought in mind, he decided that he would give them time to hand it in until the next week.
The seventh years would give him more trouble, he thought. They were more advanced and they seemed to be a difficult lot, judging from his double's notes. In no other class detentions were doled out so often. The names of the same students came back again and again. Potter, Potter, Weasley, Thomas, Weasley and yet more Potter. Michael asked himself what the boy could have done to deserve so much punishment.
A bell chimed and Michael tensed up. Shortly afterwards the students dropped in, chatting loudly. Without exception they seemed to be shocked to find their teacher in the room, waiting for them, and they hurried to sit down and take out their stuff. Michael wondered at their expression and thought that Snape probably didn't wait for them at the beginning of the lesson. But still - the students seemed terrified of him. Was his double that bad a teacher? He decided to test the theory when a student whispered something to another. "Silence," he thundered, causing not only the addressed student to flinch, but making the whole class freeze in the middle of what they were doing. Yes, Snape definitely was a stern teacher.
As quiet as mice, the students continued taking out their books and - what was that? Quills? Yes, they had quills, unimaginable - and looked at him to start the lesson. He took a deep breath and started. "Please turn up page 83 of your textbook. Start reading pages 83 until 90. Summarise them and then write an essay criticising its contents. To be handed in Thursday next week. Start now."
The students looked at each other, but nobody dared to make a sound. They silently took out their paper - wait, that was no paper, what was it? - and started to read. After a while, they started to write. Not a sound was made. Not a thing to be heard except the sound of scratching. Creepy. Once, a student looked at his neighbour's work, undoubtedly unable to decide in some matter for himself. Michael just raised one eyebrow at him and the boy paled, immediately turning to his own work. They were still utterly silent when the lesson was over and they walked out. Snape must be the worst teacher living, judging from their behaviour.
The next lesson went much the same. Michael started to relax very slightly. He had no time to reflect, however, for the next class came in. 7 S/G. Apprehensively, Michael saw them enter. Seeing their teacher standing in front of the room, the students reacted in the same way as the class before them. Michael kept half an eye on the plan, trying to find out who were the ones that were always punished. There they were. Harry Potter. Ron Weasley. Dean Thomas. Weasley managed to walk against the table of a girl before heavily sitting down. Must be clumsy. Nice girl, though, he thought. Lovely eyes. He looked at the plan again. Hermione Granger. Hermione. The name caused a slight tinge in his heart. His late wife had been a great admirer of Shakespeare and had often told him that she wanted a daughter with such a name. The girl was very bright, judging from his double's notes. He hoped she was.
When the class was seated and looked at him, he said "Please turn up page 151 of your book. Miss Granger, Miss Bulstrode, please come up to the front of the class."
All the students looked at each other and then back at Michael.
"Miss Bulstrode, please read the instructions on that page and start making that potion. Miss Granger, please pay close attention to what she is doing and correct her if necessary. The rest of the class: please read the part as well and make notes."
He might as well have said that they were to paint the sun green. The silence was complete, until a girl, very likely Bulstrode, panted "Please, Professor, I..."
"Silence," Michael thundered, having learned the effects of this in the previous lessons. Come up here, girl, and do as I have said. You too, Granger."
Both girls hesitatingly came forward. Bulstrode - Snape's notes gave away that she was as dumb as she looked - looked at him with an uncomprehending look in her eyes. 'Professor Snape, sir? I..."
"Don't dawdle, girl," Michael, drawled, starting to like his role. "Can't you read?"
The girl seemed dumbstruck, but she started the potion with trembling hands. From the first moment, Granger had to interfere and to correct her. This seemed to have the strangest effect on the class. Whispers grew loud. One half of the class started to look very angry. The other seemed to be sneering and giggling. A nice lot.
When the lesson ended, Bulstrode looked near tears and Granger was by no means as calm as she had looked in the beginning. The class seemed to be in restless confusion. When he saw one boy - Michael thought he was called Malfoy - whisper something to his neighbour, Michael raised his eyebrows once more and said coolly "I hope you all made notes. Next time I expect an essay on the benefits of co-operation while handling dangerous materials. Mister Malfoy, please stay behind to clean this mess. I don't want talking in my classroom."
Which seemed to be another bombshell.
Now whispering excitedly, the students left the room. The last two to leave were Granger and Malfoy, who turned out to be the same boy Michael had seen before. Granger took her bag and books and left, but now before shooting Michael a very thoughtful glance. Malfoy just seemed perplex - and very clumsy in cleaning, but thanks to Michael's icy glare - he must be getting used to it; it certainly bore an effect - said nothing.
The last lesson of the day was more quiet, but Michael found himself exhausted.
By: Melusina
Email: Melusina Mayne
Category: angst
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Notes: Many thanks again to my beta Mairi. She checked this story for me. If you find any remaining blunders, blame me for them...
Summary The ultimate answer to the question whether Snape is straight or gay: he is both. But he's not bi. Must be magic - but it's not.
Part Five - Teaching
The next morning Michael was standing in the classroom, nervously awaiting the first students. 1 R/H. He thought that these be might first years, but still didn't know what R/H meant. He couldn't believe that he was standing in this room and that he was really going to do this, but somehow it was just as unthinkable not to do it. Fortunately he had found a plan that showed him the seats of the different students. Snape seemed to have made such a plan for each of his classes, which meant that Michael wouldn't have trouble with the names. From the notes of his double, Michael understood that the students were to be referred to with their family names. It seemed to him a rather old-fashioned habit.
He had extensively studied everything he could find in Snape's desk, but he still didn't have a clue what exactly he would do. His double seemed to be a rather stern taskmaster, judging from the amount of punishments he doled out. Well, he would just see. At least he had decided what he would have his first years do. They had just come to a point in their textbook that covered a lot of theory. He thought it would be good if they just summarised it and then wrote an essay about it, criticising the contents. It would at least keep them at work for quite some time. Perhaps he would have the opportunity to figure out what to do with them by the time they were finished. With that thought in mind, he decided that he would give them time to hand it in until the next week.
The seventh years would give him more trouble, he thought. They were more advanced and they seemed to be a difficult lot, judging from his double's notes. In no other class detentions were doled out so often. The names of the same students came back again and again. Potter, Potter, Weasley, Thomas, Weasley and yet more Potter. Michael asked himself what the boy could have done to deserve so much punishment.
A bell chimed and Michael tensed up. Shortly afterwards the students dropped in, chatting loudly. Without exception they seemed to be shocked to find their teacher in the room, waiting for them, and they hurried to sit down and take out their stuff. Michael wondered at their expression and thought that Snape probably didn't wait for them at the beginning of the lesson. But still - the students seemed terrified of him. Was his double that bad a teacher? He decided to test the theory when a student whispered something to another. "Silence," he thundered, causing not only the addressed student to flinch, but making the whole class freeze in the middle of what they were doing. Yes, Snape definitely was a stern teacher.
As quiet as mice, the students continued taking out their books and - what was that? Quills? Yes, they had quills, unimaginable - and looked at him to start the lesson. He took a deep breath and started. "Please turn up page 83 of your textbook. Start reading pages 83 until 90. Summarise them and then write an essay criticising its contents. To be handed in Thursday next week. Start now."
The students looked at each other, but nobody dared to make a sound. They silently took out their paper - wait, that was no paper, what was it? - and started to read. After a while, they started to write. Not a sound was made. Not a thing to be heard except the sound of scratching. Creepy. Once, a student looked at his neighbour's work, undoubtedly unable to decide in some matter for himself. Michael just raised one eyebrow at him and the boy paled, immediately turning to his own work. They were still utterly silent when the lesson was over and they walked out. Snape must be the worst teacher living, judging from their behaviour.
The next lesson went much the same. Michael started to relax very slightly. He had no time to reflect, however, for the next class came in. 7 S/G. Apprehensively, Michael saw them enter. Seeing their teacher standing in front of the room, the students reacted in the same way as the class before them. Michael kept half an eye on the plan, trying to find out who were the ones that were always punished. There they were. Harry Potter. Ron Weasley. Dean Thomas. Weasley managed to walk against the table of a girl before heavily sitting down. Must be clumsy. Nice girl, though, he thought. Lovely eyes. He looked at the plan again. Hermione Granger. Hermione. The name caused a slight tinge in his heart. His late wife had been a great admirer of Shakespeare and had often told him that she wanted a daughter with such a name. The girl was very bright, judging from his double's notes. He hoped she was.
When the class was seated and looked at him, he said "Please turn up page 151 of your book. Miss Granger, Miss Bulstrode, please come up to the front of the class."
All the students looked at each other and then back at Michael.
"Miss Bulstrode, please read the instructions on that page and start making that potion. Miss Granger, please pay close attention to what she is doing and correct her if necessary. The rest of the class: please read the part as well and make notes."
He might as well have said that they were to paint the sun green. The silence was complete, until a girl, very likely Bulstrode, panted "Please, Professor, I..."
"Silence," Michael thundered, having learned the effects of this in the previous lessons. Come up here, girl, and do as I have said. You too, Granger."
Both girls hesitatingly came forward. Bulstrode - Snape's notes gave away that she was as dumb as she looked - looked at him with an uncomprehending look in her eyes. 'Professor Snape, sir? I..."
"Don't dawdle, girl," Michael, drawled, starting to like his role. "Can't you read?"
The girl seemed dumbstruck, but she started the potion with trembling hands. From the first moment, Granger had to interfere and to correct her. This seemed to have the strangest effect on the class. Whispers grew loud. One half of the class started to look very angry. The other seemed to be sneering and giggling. A nice lot.
When the lesson ended, Bulstrode looked near tears and Granger was by no means as calm as she had looked in the beginning. The class seemed to be in restless confusion. When he saw one boy - Michael thought he was called Malfoy - whisper something to his neighbour, Michael raised his eyebrows once more and said coolly "I hope you all made notes. Next time I expect an essay on the benefits of co-operation while handling dangerous materials. Mister Malfoy, please stay behind to clean this mess. I don't want talking in my classroom."
Which seemed to be another bombshell.
Now whispering excitedly, the students left the room. The last two to leave were Granger and Malfoy, who turned out to be the same boy Michael had seen before. Granger took her bag and books and left, but now before shooting Michael a very thoughtful glance. Malfoy just seemed perplex - and very clumsy in cleaning, but thanks to Michael's icy glare - he must be getting used to it; it certainly bore an effect - said nothing.
The last lesson of the day was more quiet, but Michael found himself exhausted.