Disclaimer:
All characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and publishers. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
Tuesday Afternoon
Finally, the second years are gone and Snape has his dungeon to himself once again.
He does not like the daily invasion of hormones and chatter. It makes him bitter and angry, it intensifies his self-loathing to see these emerging adults, these new people coming up behind him. Every year makes him older, staler, more alone. His dreams of being the star of the wizarding world, dreams held long past the time most men come to terms with their ordinariness, are fading and he is left with a clear picture of himself. In his darkest moments, this terrifies him.
This, though, is not a dark moment. His dungeon is quiet and will remain that way for the rest of the afternoon. There is a sufficiently complex potion simmering in one of the larger cauldrons, and a new shipment of vole's knuckles and unicorn hair to unpack and put away.
Not humming, but certainly breathing pleasantly, he begins to set his dungeon in order. Reaching out with his wand, he sweeps away the bits and pieces the students have left behind, whisking them into the rubbish bin in little hurricanes. Papers fly into neat piles on his desk; a stack of labels appears for the new ingredients.
These tasks lift the weight of his unpopularity, his stalled career, and his duality in this war, leaving him lost in the contentment of small things.