A/N: Sorry I haven't been able to put an Author's Note up here! I'm SerpentineJ, and this is my story. Sorry the chapters have been so short!
I want to give my gushing, heartfelt thanks to Lup C, Miss Shannon, Daneva Snape, and Rise of Anarchy , who took the time of the day to read and follow my story. Love you all!
Also, great thanks to Hazel Sparks, who holds the title of First Favoritor!
And many, Many, MANY, MANY thanks to Miss Shannon, who followed, reviewed, PMed, and was an amazing person overall! I thank her for motivating this chapter.
Disclaimer: Again, I have not put one of these up here. Sorry! I'm new! Please don't come after me with pitchforks and lawyers! Anyways, I am not blonde with a great imagination rolling in cash, so I am not Jo Rowling, so I don't own HP.
The Serpent and the Star – Chapter 3
Severus sat in his new green and black quarters in the dank, dark dungeons with a drink in his hand, pondering Hogwarts. It was strange, being back here and not thinking about homework, Hogsmeade weekends, or curfew. Even stranger were the other staff members. Among fellow teachers, Minerva McGonagall didn't seem so strict, Pomona Sprout was downright cheery, Septima Vector was less bookish, even Trelawney, on the rare (Thank Merlin) occasion that she joined them was less dreamy. It seemed all the teachers had a façade to hide their real selves from the students. He knew he needed a mask as well.
As he reclined in the comfortable, yet dignified black leather wingback armchair by the flickering fire, Snape thought about the person he wanted to show his students. Surely something strict, as Potions was a very dangerous subject when mistakes were made. Perhaps strict in class, but sympathetic to the students.
Severus shook himself. Sympathetic? The tumbler of scotch in his hand must have muddled his thought process. He drained the glass, feeling the smooth drink slide down his throat, and stood to get ready for bed. He would think on the matter of his façade tomorrow.
Blinking open obisidan eyes, Snape woke to the mental tones of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. His subconscious always played this particular song at 6:30am to rouse him. This morning, however, the music was interrupted by a tapping on his skylight. When he looked for the source of the noise, he groaned; it was Citrea, Dumbledore's owl. Whenever the mail was unimportant enough, he would send Citrea instead of Fawkes. That and the Headmaster liked to keep the phoenix by his side. The owl tapped again. She had a slight figure, and was normal enough to not be singled out whereas everyone would know if somebody got mail delivered by Fawkes. Light tan feathers framed bright blue eyes as mischievous as her master's.
Severus groggily detached the letter from the offered leg, and broke open the lemon drop wax seal he used with all his staff. One scan of the first few sentences and Snape's eyes were widening to epic proportions.
"WHAT?!"