Severus Snape stepped discreetly out of the red Ministry telephone booth and into muggle London, desperately trying to ignore the pounding in his head and the urge to vomit in a nearby trash can.
Damn that old codger for taking away my magic and my neatly hidden stash of Pepper-Up potion, he sulked.
While Snape had been on quite a few firewhisky-induced benders in the last few weeks, he had mercifully been saved from the effects of his drinking through a combination of spells and potions. Unfortunately, he was now left to deal with it the muggle way, with the first order of business to be alleviating the BLOODY POUNDING IN HIS HEAD, made worse by the loud sounds of the city and the bright sunshine.
"What a grand fucking day for London to get some sun," Snape snarled as he strode towards the nearest convenience store, swirling his cloak like a great black bat and effectively scaring away the muggles who stood in his path. He shoved the door open and the bell jingled wildly. Slipping past the counter he glared at the middle-aged shopkeeper, who had barely glanced up from the news, and walked quickly towards a rack of black sunglasses, which were appalling but would have to do. He snatched a pair of knock-off Oakley sunglasses, the ones popular with muggle dads the word over, and took them over to the cash. Remembering the noise, Snape quickly grabbed the last pair of earmuffs on a rack labelled £1.99. They were pink with a white cat on them, he grimaced, "Oh stuff it. They are for function, not style." He slammed his wares down on the cash, handing over what little muggle money he had, and then storming out into the streets once more. Now clad in his sporty sunglasses and Umbridge-reminiscent earmuffs he set off to do what he had to do – find a job. How hard could it be?
He, Severus Snape, was an esteemed potions master. He had taught children for over fifteen years, he sneered, despicable creatures. He walked briskly through the streets as he approached his destination, Regent Comprehensive School. Upon reaching the building he removed his sunglasses and earmuffs, bracing himself for the activity within. Snape passed through the front doors and was met with a wall of sound, students on their lunch break. He looked around, spotting a door labelled "Office" and made a swift beeline towards it, shutting the door behind him to block out the clamour. He looked around, noting the drab green of the carpet and faded yellow walls. The room contained three chairs along the wall, two of which were currently occupied by two solemn-looking year ten boys, and one desk for the school's secretary.
"Good Afternoon sir, how may I help you?" the secretary, a young blond woman with brown eyes and a softness about her, smiled up at him.
Inappropriately cheerful twit, he thought to himself. He attempted to return her smile, baring his teeth in an odd, and quite terrifying, grimace. "Yes hello, I would like to apply for a job here."
The secretary's eyes grew wide, "I'm sorry sir but we are not advertising for employment at the moment, and besides, you would have to talk with the Dean…" she trailed off, clearly uncomfortable.
How taxing. "Well, if you would let me talk to this Dean then…Amy," he ground out, glancing down at her staff badge, "I am sure we would be able to come to some sort of… understanding." He glared down at her, putting on a strong performance of his one-man 'greasy dungeon bat' act.
Looking slightly cowed, Amy picked up the phone, "Hello Dean Winters, there is a man here to inquire about a job… yes… no sir he seems very, um, insistent," she cast a nervous smile up at Snape, "Yes sir, I will let him know."
Placing the receiver down, Amy asked him to take a seat in the third chair. As it turned out, the Dean had a moment to meet with him after all. Snape smirked, he could be quite persuasive.
As he sat down the boys next to him started whispering to one another. He swore he heard the words "greasy wanker" and so, in true Snape fashion, he turned, fixing them with an icy glare. Both boys froze in their seats, but they soon overcame their initial fear, returning his glare. What impertinence… and no magic with which to dole out punishment. Snape glanced towards the table on his right, spotting a variety of newspapers and a magazine. Ah, this will do. He looked furtively at Amy, who was staring at her computer screen, absorbed in her work. Snape rolled up one of the magazines into a hard tube, then turned toward the snickering boys, dealing each a blow across the back of the head.
"OWW," they cried, leaping up from their seats. At this moment, Dean Winters walked out of his office, greeted by the sight of the two boys clutching their heads and howling about the madman that stood next to them, posed to strike again with his makeshift bat.
"Ahem," the Dean cleared his throat, alerting the others to his presence. Snape immediately dropped his paper weapon, clutching his hands behind his back. "Freddie, Albert, remain seated, I will deal with your antics soon enough. And you sir, please follow me," he said, beckoning Snape into his office. Winters had decided he would entertain the inane notions of the greasy, long-haired, crackpot man in the billowy black dress with the hopes that he could convince him to leave.
Seated across the large mahogany desk, Dean Winters turned to Snape. "So what type of position are you looking to find at Regent School Mr…?" he trailed off, not knowing the greasy bat's name.
"It's Severus Snape," Snape informed the portly, balding man across the desk. "I would like to take up the position of po… uh chemistry professor at your school."
"And what are your qualifications Mr. Snape? May I see your CV?
"I have my mastery in chemistry, and I have taught at a private establishment in Scotland for over fifteen years – I hardly think I need more qualification than that to teach at this… illustrious institution," Snape drawled, looking indignant. "And what in Merlin's name is a CV?"
Merlin? No CV? Winters thought, looking decidedly confused. Ahhh. Just another new age hippie with a weird name, all self-righteous in the face of his own incompetence. I lived though the sixties, I KNOW about new age bravado. No room in this school for a greasy, pot-smoking, pagan chemistry teacher. These millennials are fucked up enough without a crunchy brother of peace teaching them how to cook crystal meth.
Dean Winters sat up straighter in his seat, "That is all I need to hear Mr. Snape," he ground out.
"Does this mean I am now in your employ, sir?" Snape inquired, looking rather impressed with himself.
The Dean stood abruptly. "ABSOLUTELY NOT YOU NEW AGE PIECE OF GRANOLA. WHAT KIND OF NAME IS SEVERUS ANYWAYS? PROBABLY SOME PAGAN GARBAGE." He pinched the top of his nose, breathing in deeply. "I suggest you apply for a job somewhere you are more qualified… perhaps a vegan coffee shop?"
While Severus Snape did not have a clue what a vegan coffee shop was, he was deeply offended by Dean Winter's suggestion that he was unqualified to teach in such a hideous muggle school – HIM – an illustrious potions professor! "How DARE you question my abilities you useless old fool!" Well this felt familiar. "I challenge you to a duel, and at your defeat you will admit my skill!" he snarled.
"A duel you say, looks like this hippie has put too much stock in the romantic words of Pushkin!" Winters shot back.
Just as Snape was about to pull his wand, planning to curse the infuriating man into the next century (forgetting his magic ban), Dumbledore apparated straight into the office, obliviating the Dean and pulling Severus into a side-along back to Hogwarts.
Back in the Headmaster's office Snape broke down, chanting about the unfairness of it all and that "mean git old codger" who belittled his excellence. Dumbledore cradled his greasy head against his chest, stroking his back and assuring him that he was okay.
Once Snape had calmed down, again assuming his air of indifference, he and Dumbledore sat down to discuss his adventure.
"Well you see Albus, the man insulted my skill."
Dumbledore held up a hand, "I gathered as much Severus, but after years of serving the Dark Lord I would have thought you could take much more than insults from a traditional old man."
Snape grumbled, "Yes I thought so too, but he insinuated that I would be better off making muggles their fancy coffee – at a VEGAN coffee shop nonetheless. I don't know what that is, but he made it seem much worse than the others."
"Ah yes, vegans," said Dumbledore knowingly, eyes twinkling as he took a bite of a date brownie.