Another Memory for the Pensieve
(a.k.a Another embarrassing moment, perhaps, that Snape chose to hide from Harry?)

It was a warm, sunny day in June, and the last day of term at Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For Severus Snape, it was last day of his first year as a teacher there. He was spending it, quite contentedly, in the dungeons, and thus away from the lowly students. Although...technically speaking he only had three years on the graduating students, oddly enough. In fact, since he had turned twenty-two in January, and since he was a Hogwarts graduate himself, this meant that students currently in their seventh year had been in their third year when he was in his seventh year. (Try saying that five times fast.)

Actually, Severus had found out from Dumbledore a few weeks ago that he was the youngest person in the history of Hogwarts to successfully apply for and get a position as a Professor. (He hadn't been told at the beginning of the year because the other teachers didn't want to give him a swelled head, or some such nonsense like that, the dolts.)

And no one could say that he hadn't earned the position. He had aced his NEWTS as a student, and had gone on to study under Beltius Foxworthy, the most famous (some would argue infamous) potions master in the past 150 years. After three years of infrequent study (it was a busy time for Severus), Foxworthy had, amazingly, decreed him a Master of Potions. Typically it took between five to ten years to receive this title. In short, Severus was one smart cookie. A very, very smart cookie. (Though why he would be a cookie in the first place was beyond him.)

In any case, he had earned his position. His only shortcoming, aside from his severe (har har) teaching style, some might argue, was his age. Ah yes, his youth 'could prove to be his greatest hindrance', according to Albus Dumbledore, anyway. The old man seemed to think it might cause trouble, which Severus took to mean trouble in the classroom.

He had proven Dumbledore wrong about that in the first month of classes. If there was one thing Severus couldn't tolerate, it was being ignored when he was trying to make a point, getting laughed at, or worst of all, made fun of. Penalties were harsh, and his students soon learned how to behave. Or else! (Heh. Heheheh.)

Perhaps he was a bit kinder to his own Slytherins, but then it was in his nature to be unfair. (Bwuaha.) Unjustly favoring one group of children had the effect of incensing the rest, and he liked being hated by his students. He didn't want to appear nice, or good; he wanted his space and needed it. Additionally, the students knew little about his role in the recent war. And the few who thought they did (they tended to be in his own house, which actually worked for him too) could be a danger to him if he was too kind, or too nice.

Not that he would've been nicer if the circumstances had been different, of course. It was simply interesting to note that it worked for him not to be.

Today had been going relatively well for Severus. In a few short hours, the students would be leaving for the summer. Everyone was relaxing, and, most importantly, far away from him. He was free from teaching for a few months, which took some stress off. Not that dealing with the little imbeciles didn't have its moments.

Aaah yes. Detentions could be quite amusing, for instance. Making the little urchins do things like clean frog guts off the dungeon floor manually was very enjoyable. When they realized a wand could take care of the mess in five minutes, he'd get a wonderful warm fuzzy feeling inside. (Or something of that sort, anyway, but not quite so warm, exactly. Or fuzzy either, come to think of it.) Oh, how they would long for the quick fix called magic. The best part was that Dumbledore didn't mind. He thought it built "character."

Taking points away from other houses was fun, too, especially Gryffindor. If the little simpletons saw it as unfair, they didn't hesitate (since he was such a new professor) to run to their Head of House, and his "blatant favoritism" always made Minerva furious. Not that she didn't do her share of it as well, though she claimed not to. Heh, he knew better though. She didn't have him fooled.

Then there was the fact that in every class he had taught this year, there were always a few special students he didn't need to take points from or send to detention. They already had plenty working against them; namely, they weren't too bright, and they always went to pieces around him. It was usually due to anger, fear, or some other negative emotion, but it would hurt their performance in class. As such, their averages would suffer, and he could make utter fools out of them in front of their peers. He would never tell anyone this, not even under pain of death (well probably not), but these were his favorite students. He could only hope that future years would continue to produce class dunces for his enjoyment.

So it couldn't be said that Severus didn't have his teacher-student moments. Indeed, it could be argued that he had more than his fair share of them. Yes, his students would definitely remember him for years to come, and he had no doubt that he would hold a special place in many hearts. It just wasn't the place most teachers strived for.

But then, he wasn't most teachers. Oh no. He had special standards, and was quite pleased with the deep dark niche he carved into many of their young minds. They respected and feared him. They avoided him like the plague in the halls. He was even hated (mostly by Gryffindors, whose niches were especially deep and dark), and…did he mention he was feared?

This is why Severus was a bit confused at present. For some inexplicable reason one of his seventh year potions students, a Hufflepuff, had come all the way down into the dungeons, requested entrance into his classroom (he had been contentedly reading an article on unicorn blood) and now stood a few feet in front of his desk looking nervous, yet strangely determined.

A teeny tiny warning bell was going off in Severus' head that he refused to acknowledge. (The bad feeling had been popping up at odd times for a few months now, and he'd gotten used to tuning it out.)

She was a very sweet natured girl, too sweet in his opinion. Lory Smith was somewhat slight of build, with strawberry blonde hair, and big cheeks that seemed to be perpetually blushing. Her sweet nature was embodied in her face, her soft movements, and gentle voice. He had never seen her get angry in class or out of it, and a smile was never far from her lips. In short, she was the sort of person he pretty much ignored.

It was true. She was so different from himself that she literally slipped off his radar most of the time. She did her work reasonably well and paid attention in class. She wasn't a Slytherin, yet didn't react particularly negatively when he exhibited blatant favoritism. So she had quickly become a nonentity. As such, he had no clue why she was here.

He watched her warily as she inched forward. Her cheeks were warming up to oh, perhaps a third degree blush (there were three for most people, but he had decided she deserved a fourth since she was perpetually blushing.) She opened her mouth to speak, and stared hard at his left ear (he supposed that was as close as she would get to his eyes).

"Professor." He waited for her to continue. A second went by, then another.

"Yes? There was something you wanted to say?"

Her eyes went to his right ear. "Y-yes." She frowned with intense concentration. She was going to say something, it was on the tip of her tongue…"Professor..."

A few more seconds slipped by before he responded. Somehow he had been caught off guard by her overwhelming need to convey…nothing. He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I am a Professor. Now that you've got it straight, I suggest you go away before I deduct points, Miss Smith."

This seemed to shake her out of the intense internal battle she was waging with herself, yet she still wasn't leaving. The time to deduct points was nearly upon him…but he paused. That bad feeling was returning again.

Her jaw turned to rock, and (gasp!) she caught his eyes. "Professor! I'm…I'm in love with you!" She seemed finished, and pleased with herself for finally getting it out. Good for her, he thought.

Wait a second. No…no! Bad for her! Everything in Severus' head picked itself up and lay back down, sideways. Eh? was his first thought, but soon it became the Ah of comprehension. So that's what that feeling meant. His subconscious was very pleased with itself for finally getting out its message. He could practically hear it say "a student's developed a crush on you, idiot! Squash her, squash her now!"

His subconscious mind was a tad violent, but he had solved that long ago by never interpreting anything it said literally. Squashing her figuratively wasn't a problem. (Literally however? Bleh.)

At least it would not have been a problem a few moments ago. Now that she had declared her…declaration so loud and clear, he had several very conscious problems to deal with.

For one, he was in danger of developing a blush himself, perhaps second degree.

Second, his eyebrows had suddenly developed minds of their own. Up they went (and stayed), and the right one was twitching. He had thought his face was under control. Neither Dumbledore nor the Dark Lord had ever elicited this reaction, anyway.

Third, despite the fact that his subconscious mind had known for months about her crush (and it was being very smug about it, too) as a whole he was completely taken by surprise.

In fact, she looked slightly surprised herself, come to think of it. The shock of what she'd just told him was only just wearing off, he observed. He hadn't moved in quite a bit himself, actually. Surprise sometimes had that effect on him.

Suddenly his mind went into overdrive and a plan formed. He jumped up from his seat, and raced around the desk. He took her hand for a moment, and then placed his palm briefly on her forehead. The girl stood stock still, eyes wide.

"You've been given a love potion, Miss Smith!"

She frowned. "I…no, I…"

"Not a word! I'll have you fixed in a moment!"

"N-no…wait…" He raced into his office before she had the chance to continue. Grabbing a few things, he threw together a completely new potion (though the Weasely twins would develop something very similar years later), and came back out with it.

She was still standing there as he approached. Her face was determined. "Sir, it's not a love potion…"

"No arguing." His voice quelled any further talk. "Drink." She took it, and her eyes seemed to say this will prove my point, I suppose.

She downed it relatively fast, and handed it back to him. It looked like she was throwing back a brandy for strength. She opened her mouth to speak…

And nothing came out. He couldn't hold back a very slight smirk. She wouldn't be able to speak for perhaps a day, and by then she'd be long gone. The look on her face was one of utter surprise.

"I see you're speechless, Miss Smith, now that the wool has been removed from your eyes." He turned away so as to pretend he didn't notice her mouth continuing to flap. "No need to thank me, of course. Consider this a parting gift." He placed one hand on her shoulder, the other on her back, and steered her from the room.

"Goodbye." He shut the door behind him and locked it, leaving her standing flabbergasted just outside.

Whew! Catastrophe had been averted! With a little luck, he'd never see her again. Severus stood for a long moment before heading back to his desk, where he sat staring off into space. Luckily for him he was very good at thinking on his feet. It had saved him from numerous sticky situations, and this one definitely counted. He was worried, though. His behavior toward the students was carefully tailored to greatly encourage strong feelings of the negative sort, such as hate, fear, loathing, etc. Clearly he was doing something wrong, however.

One thing was for certain; this kind of thing could not happen again. Who knows, someone could see next time! He would not become a laughing stock for his fellow teachers. And Dumbledore would never let him hear the end of it.

Come to think of it, now he knew what the old man had really been concerned about when he mentioned his age. The git.

Two weeks later found Severus spending some quality time on his personal look. He needed to make a few changes. The hair, for instance. It could be washed every few days. Once a day was overkill. And it would bring out the oily sheen nicely. (And yes, this was a good thing.)

The teeth? They were entirely too white. A few minutes in the lab, and he created a simple potion that stained them a delectable shade of yellow. Now it looked like he didn't know what a toothbrush was. Just the right shade of nasty.

And what about his attire? Clearly his robes were too informal. And green wasn't necessary. Black was much better. Buttons up to the neck were preferable as well.

He'd had his mean and or scary face perfected for years, so there was no problem there. It wasn't even a pretense half the time.

And thus Severus Snape was transformed into someone who, though young, was thoroughly less desirable than, say, Hagrid the gamekeeper. He rather liked it. More distance from others was a good thing. He got a few stares from his fellow professors for a few weeks, but no one said anything, not even Dumbledore. Though Severus did wonder what he thought about the change. Somehow, as the years passed, the look stuck, and when the day came that his age would've been enough of a deterrent, changing back never occurred to him.

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Author's note: Hmm…well, what do you think? My take on Rowling's somewhat overblown physical description of the potions master (no offense meant of course!), with a bit of humor mixed in. He really was twenty-one when he started teaching at Hogwarts, and it is very common for high school girls to crush on their younger teachers. I did in any case, and still do now that I'm in college. (Will I never learn?)

Comments, suggestions? (Yes! Stop writing, you crazy person!)