Severus had to admit that being Headmaster was a lot less grand than Dumbledore had made it seem. The office was airy, far too cheery, and why the hell was it so damned bright. Had Dumbledore truly had time to imbed light charms into the walls?
That old man was about as sane as Lucius was when someone insulted his blasted peacocks. Peacocks weren't supposed to be white, damnit!
Severus glanced around the room momentarily. The walls had been darkened, and he had made damn well sure that only a limited amount of light would be able to pass through those abnormally large windows. There was a reason he had only visited the headmaster at night!
There were bigger problems now than there ever had been before, to the point where even the portraits, dead and unmoving as they are, sent him the occasional sympathetic look. As if that would help.
Not to mention the torture-happy Death Eaters, who seems to be extraordinarily thrilled to call themselves teachers (whether or not they actually understood the meaning of that stood to be proven), were on the verge of sending students into the midst of insanity, what seemed like every second.
And his potions lab, his potions lab, had been totally annihilated by Slughorn. There was no sane person who would believe a potions lab that looked like a unicorn had farted rainbows on it, would be an "upgrade." The man was growing senile in his old age, and Severus had to prevent himself from burning the entire thing in a fit of absolute rage.
His hair was assured to be gray by the end of this.
Written for the September Back to School Challenge: (location) headteacher's office