Last chapter...
Severus met his fairy godweasley; unfortunately it was Ron, and not someone more helpful, like, Bill.
Or even Percy.
Oh well.
At least, we got our much needed avalanche of exposition?
Thanks, Ron!
Also, Severus was bummed he has to be a muggle and live next door to Harry Potter.
And Harry Potter's kids.
Including a miniature Lily.
Because of course.
Three - Return to Hogwarts
Severus Snape was running late for his 'first' day of work.
I am NOT cross about it. He resolutely told himself, grinding his molars.
Other things he was not cross about included:
His wardrobe - which was extremely lacking in black, and FINE.
His career as Chemistry Professor at the local University - what a DELIGHT to still be teaching dunderheads in a room full of explosive compounds.
His vehicle, a green Ford Fiesta - never mind that he hadn't operated a manual gearbox in twenty years; driving on a crowded motorway was FUN and RELAXING.
Cold coffee sloshed out of Severus's mug and onto his knee as he engaged the brake with too much force. Brilliant. With no wand to cast a cleansing charm, he'd be stuck with that stain on his trousers all day.
Yet one more thing to NOT be cross about. So far, this 'Glimpse' business was an absolute treat.
Another hard brake sent his satchel flying, spewing its innards all over the seat and floor. "Fuck." Severus had an inkling that this would be his mantra for the day - if not the entire rest of his 'living' awareness.
The clock on the dash mocked him, and he indulged in a sigh. At least I'm tenured. It was impossible they would be able to sack him for tardiness, though he vowed to take a full inventory of his employment contracts later on.
After having picked himself up off of the floor earlier that morning, Severus had taken a thorough tour of his ridiculously large family home. On the ground level, where the house curved around the back garden, he'd discovered a room dedicated to the celebration of pasty, uptight, English manhood. Wood paneling. Tall bookcases. Brass fixtures. Leather seating. Hideous, green, deep-pile carpeting; it was nearly a given that somewhere in the recesses of the unnecessarily large oak desk he'd find a stash of cigars, and it was at this point he'd begun to wonder what sort of man it was whose life he'd taken over.
Or did this all just spring into existence out of nowhere? If Ronald Weasley was to be believed - and Severus hadn't yet decided if that was the case - the entirety of the reality he was inhabiting had materialised for Snape's benefit alone.
Either way, it was not the sort of study he'd have chosen himself, but if the paperwork on the grandiose desk was to be believed, it was his.
And the door locked from the inside. Bliss.
"Anal-retentive bastard, aren't you?" He'd muttered, rifling through the highly organised contents of his file cabinet. He'd wondered if Granger had had a hand in it. Not that Severus was a wholly disorganised person, of course, but colour coded tabs were a trifle excessive.
The University of Hogwarts, a road sign proclaimed, quite unnecessarily. As though anyone could miss an enormous gothic fortress in the middle of an otherwise ordinary modern British township.
Severus took a sharp right across a couple lanes of traffic, not bothering to signal his intent to do so, and pulled into the car park. He made certain that he was angled across two spots before disengaging the engine, then aggressively slogged back the dregs of his disgusting beverage. He crammed everything back into his satchel as best he could manage, and stumbled out into the late morning air with a curse on his lips.
"Next time I'm walking," he snarled at the door as he slammed it shut with enough force to make the absurdly small vehicle shudder.
The timetable mashed in his fist indicated he had a 'General Chemistry' lecture scheduled to start fifteen minutes prior in Room 394 of the Rowena Ravenclaw Memorial Tower. Grand.
Not for the first time, he wondered why he'd even bothered to come. It wasn't as though this was his actual occupation, now was it? He had not chosen this, nor had he agreed to do it. And he was late.
On the bright side, however, the plaque on his study wall indicated he had a PhD in chemistry, and was looking forward to condescendingly insisting someone call him 'Dr. Snape'. Not that that was why he had ultimately decided to come. Probably.
Severus rolled his shoulders against the confines of his well-tailored, houndstooth blazer, and stalked towards the entrance like a thundercloud. He'd sneeringly decided that his entire wardrobe must belong to a well heeled Remus Lupin - anyone who harboured such passions for brown tweed deserved to be put down immediately - but he'd managed to find a few pieces in tones somber enough to be fit for public consumption.
The building itself was laid out remarkably like the Hogwarts he was accustomed to, and he wasn't delayed having to stop and ask someone for directions to Ravenclaw Tower. Small mercies. He huffed, unbuttoning his blazer in the hopes of achieving some level of billow as he entered the room, and shoved on the door to Room 394.
A muggle hydraulic device prevented him from entering with his customary bang. His banal houndstooth blazer gave a sad little flap instead of the proper billow he'd been hoping for. And the students were chatting.
"Silence!" He bellowed, and the room fell as quiet as a tomb. Well. At least that part of his dramatic entrance was still functioning properly.
"You!" He pointed at random, not bothering to look up. "Where are you in the reading materials?" The curriculum he dug out of his bag indicated he ought to be speaking on the properties of gases, but seventeen years of trying to keep mouth-breathers on task had taught him to expect some degree of deviation.
"Um, pressure versus force," an overtly sultry voice replied, inflecting oddly over the key words.
Severus's head snapped up into the wide, inviting grin of a singularly attractive young woman who was occupied with wrapping her hair around her index finger. He was not wholly certain she was a reliable source of information, but decided that pressure versus force seemed gaseous enough to proceed.
45 minutes later, Severus dismissed the class. One brave soul raised a hand and took the Professor's glare as an invitation to ask if there was time for a question period. As Snape had been reading off of a meticulously detailed - and mind-numbingly boring - stack of notes, he sneered at the offender and replied: "No."
Asking him to show up and perform a job he was not entirely qualified for was one thing, but asking him to embarrass himself in front of a room full of idiots by being unable to answer their inane questions was quite another.
"Go away," he added, for good measure, making sure to snarl.
Snape emptied his satchel on the desk, finally having the time to put all his papers to rights since the spill that morning. A cascade of red biros tumbled to the floor in a clatter of cheap plastic, drawing his attention, and suddenly his field of vision was filled with flesh.
"Oopsie!" The attractive young woman of the pressure versus force was on her knees next to him, gathering up his fallen office supplies. She grinned up at him from atop her excessive cleavage, batting her doe-like hazel eyes, and tossed her hair. Auburn. Slightly wavy. Smelling of cinnamon.
Severus frowned as she handed him the fistful of biros - was there no dress code at this pathetic excuse for a school? He grunted something in lieu of thanks and snatched them away from her, then huffed at his mess of papers. There was nothing for it, all his notes were hopelessly disordered. In fact, it seemed like he'd read at least a quarter of the notes belonging to his afternoon lecture on 'bonding', instead of gases. Well fuck. At least none of the dunderheads seemed to notice?
"Thanks so much for another amazing class, Professor Snape." The sultry voice startled him into knocking his empty satchel to the floor.
"What the devil are you still doing here?" He hissed, completely forgetting to correct her form of address. Not his fault; the girl was disconcerting.
"Just saying thanks for being such an amazing teacher," she tittered, trailing fingers across the expanse of her mountainous chest.
Severus wondered idly if 'amazing' was the extent of the chit's 3-syllable vocabulary. Perhaps he should introduce her to Mr. Weasley.
"Ho there, Severus!" A voice boomed from a side entrance. "Running a bit late, are we?"
Snape blinked - buxom, inarticulate, cinnamon-scented dunderhead completely forgotten. " - Pomona?" Sweet Merlin. Of course it was. This is Hogwarts, isn't it, you fool? Who did he expect his co-workers would be?
"Hello Miss Wattley," Sprout smiled at the doe-eyed tumour attached to Severus's desk. "Are you taking Botany this term?"
"Oh!" The young woman giggled. "No, sorry Professor Sprout! I should skedaddle, don't wanna be late for Physics!"
Severus watched the girl flee and silently counted the number of syllables in 'skedaddle'. "I would never have pegged that one as the physics type," he snorted, "or chemistry, for that matter."
Sprout made a noncommittal noise. "Sarah Wattley is more clever than she lets on - now, off you go, young man! I've got a class to set up for."
Severus found himself summarily ejected from Room 394, clutching a fist full of creased chemistry notes and no clue what to do with himself for the next three hours before his afternoon class. Perhaps he ought to locate his office? What were the odds it was located in the dungeon - if this muggle school even had a dungeon.
"You there," he snarled at a slouchy young man with purple streaks and a ring in his nose, "where the devil is my office?"
"Er - " the fellow clutched at his backpack straps and shuffled away slowly. "I dunno, sir, in the - um - office - building?"
"Ten points from Gryffindor for cheek," Severus snapped, pivoting himself in the direction of the entrance.
"Uh - Gryff -?"
Snape's blazer gave a few half-hearted flaps as he stalked down the corridor, but the students dove from his path with alacrity, so it must've been more impressive from an outside perspective.
"Ah, Severus my boy, good morning!" The cheerful voice ripped itself directly from Snape's nightmares, coalescing into the shape of a smiling Albus Dumbledore in a chartreuse coloured two-piece suit and coordinating fair isle waistcoat. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"
The dark haired man swallowed. "Ah."
"I was just about to have tea in my office, will you join me?" Dumbledore stood there, looking dotty. Alive. And twinkling. The arse.
"Certainly," Severus replied, horrified to find his eyes prickling, ever so slightly, with moisture.
Fortunately for Snape's dignity, Argus Filch chose that moment to come shuffling up to them at full tilt, his ill-fitted boiler suit looking as though it meant to devour the man's skinny frame. "Professor Snape!" He wheezed, brandishing a slip of paper.
Severus lifted his chin. "Dr. Snape, if you please."
"As you say, Professor," the man nodded, thrusting the note under Snape's enormous nose. "Ms. Trelawney in the office asked me to give you this message, sir." Wheeze. "Very important, she said." Wheeze. "And as I was coming to find you anyhow, reckon I could deliver it." Wheeze.
"Kelsi from Hogsmeade Nursery Infant and Junior School -" Severus muttered, scrutinising the message.
"Yessir," huffed Filch as his breathing began to normalise. "Reckon that's one a them places they store the youngins, sir." Huff. "Also, if it please you, Professor, seems as though you're double parked." Huff. "Afraid I'm gonna have to ask for you to move your automobile, sir." Huff.
"Someone named Rosalind has assaulted one of the school staff." Severus frowned. Rosalind. He'd heard the name recently…
"Is that not the name of your youngest daughter, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, looking a trifle giddy.
Snape froze, considering the shirtless beast with the dimples covered in purple mash. No. That one had seemed relatively docile. His galleons were on it being the demon-spawn.
"They are requesting that I come at once to collect it, er - her." He glowered. Why was it his responsibility to fetch the vile little creature? Didn't they know he was at work? "I have a lecture at one," he groused, as though Filch and Dumbledore ought to be appalled on his behalf. "I cannot simply abandon-"
"Not to worry, my boy," Dumbledore twinkled aggressively. "I shall have Horace cover your afternoon class. No trouble at all, I'm sure. There is nothing more important than family, after all."
"Indeed," Snape sneered.