Typical Disclaimers Apply
A/N: Interesting fact: I started these stories because Sirius was my favorite character and I wanted to put him in a situation where things worked out for him. Now that I've done so, he's become my least favorite character.
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Snape stepped out of the castle and onto the stone pathway. He'd seen the lights of the train through his window and thought it best to meet the teachers at the gate. After all, there was a good chance that if he stayed in his office, they would light it on fire. He almost smiled when he saw the silhouettes of his old colleagues. However, as they drew closer, he realized something was a bit….off.
"Shnape!" Flitwick slurred. Snape felt his stomach drop. "Sho bad to sheee you!" Snape arched an eyebrow at his behavior, and looked over everyone else. McGonagall and Slughorn seemed to be flirting, which was so eerie he thought he might pass out on the spot. Trelawney seemed to be having a long-winded conversation that wasn't really directed at anyone or going anywhere in particular, but that wasn't out of the ordinary. Esme was being completely supported by her husband's arm. Her hair had apparently been cut back into the bob style of her seventh year, so she did strongly resemble her eighteen-year-old self: Bright-eyed, innocent, and very, very drunk. Sirius, on the other hand, looked completely sober.
"They're all drunk, aren't they?" Snape said flatly.
"Yes they are. Someone had a bottle of Firewhiskey on the train, and, well, one thing led to another." He looked fondly over at Esme, who smiled sloppily and vomited on Snape's shoes.
"I thought she could hold her liquor," Snape said coolly, vanishing the vomit with a wave of his wand.
"She brought a lot of Firewhiskey," Sirius said tenderly. Esme whiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Snape sneered at her.
"How unprofessional."
"As is murdering your boss," Sirius growled.
"Yes, and I suggest you keep that in mind. It really only works out for some."
"I suppose if your goal was to be alone and hated by all, then yes, it has worked out for you."
"Not everyone hates me!" he protested. It was true, some people still liked him. Not nice people, or people he himself actually liked, but people.
"Oh really? Your master sees you as a dog who's done its trick, all the Death Eaters except Bellatrix are afraid of you, and Bella hates you because you broke up with her in sixth year!" Snape looked at him, completely dumbfounded.
"That's why she doesn't like me?"
"Face it, Snape. You lost your last friend when you left her below the tower, cradling her brother's head." He stroked Esme's hair. From her blissful expression, both men could tell that she didn't know what they were talking about. Actually, there was quite a good chance that she didn't know where she was. "Now," he said icily, "I have to get my wife to bed."
--
Esme woke up with a splitting headache. It felt like an army angry, tap-dancing elves had done the Lindy Hop on her brain in the middle of the night. And all threw up in her mouth for the finale. "Arrrggh, I crave death."
"Not on the menu this morning, love," came Sirius' cheerful voice. "Instead we've got toast; Mrs. Potter's patented hangover cure, and a meeting of the damned."
"Good enough." She sipped the steaming drink. "That's good."
"I've given it to everyone who had a bit of 'fun' last night." He shuddered, remembering walking in on McGonagall and Slughorn. Both had been half-naked and, fortunately, completely unconscious. "Come now, it's best not to be late for the meeting. Like your father said, it's a good idea to have authority on our side."
"My father's an idiot. It doesn't work when authority is corrupted."
"You make a good point, dear. However, you are very small, and I am quite strong." He scooped her up and began carrying her to the defensive arts classroom.
"Why does the idea of getting fired bother you so much?" she said, hanging over his shoulder.
"As long as you're here, you're safe. Can't say as much for the rest of us, but really, that doesn't matter to me."
"And neither, it seems, does being prompt," Snape's icy voice hit them like a winter storm. "You're ten minutes late, Black." He looked at Esme, "Blacks." Blue eyes flashed from behind a short veil of black hair.
"You scheming, mental—"
"I suggest you take your seat Ms. Black." Sirius led Esme, who was very close to foaming at the mouth, to one of the desks.
Snape stood at the front of the classroom; shoulders back, chin lifted. He had the look of an authority figure one would not want to cross. The professors, on the other hand, looked like rebellious schoolchildren, apathetic until something really irks them. "As I said in my letter," he began (Esme saw McGonagall's jaw tighten and heard Flitwick let out a mutinous hiss), "with new leadership comes new rules. As many of you may have already known, I never supported Dumbledore's leniency with the students." Sirius' hands tightened into fists and Slughorn's eyes narrowed skeptically. "A childish point system held no authority over the older students. Tradition is fine in some cases, but with today's 'Generation X' students, it proves to be utterly useless." McGonagall let out a hearty sniff, which Snape chose to ignore. "Typical infractions such as speaking out of turn, missing curfew, failure to follow the dress code, or misbehavior in the halls will be punished with a week's worth of detentions. The student's second offense will be punished with two weeks of detention, and the third with three. After the third offense, the student shall be suspended indefinitely." A few of the professors looked at him, waiting for him to expand on his speech. When he stayed quiet, chatter broke out.
"That sounds almost reasonable," Sirius whispered.
"Just wait," muttered Esme.
"As I am sure you've noticed," Snape continued after the whispers had subsided, "the Ministry of Magic is also under new leadership. Our new Minister of Magic, Pius Thicknesse, has legalized curses that, at this time last year, would have landed a witch or wizard in Azkaban. Because of this, I am allowing, or perhaps encouraging, you to place the Cruciatus curse on any student who seems to find it quite difficult to behave."
"My goodness," McGonagall whispered, lifting her handkerchief to her lips. Sprout turned quite pale and looked as though she might faint. Even Trelawney was looking rather shocked. She clearly hadn't predicted anything like this happening.
"You can't do this!" Esme cried, leaping up.
"Esmeralda," McGonagall said softly, rising to her feet, "please sit down." She turned towards Snape. "Severus. You cannot, in good heart or good mind, believe that anyone in this room would place the Cruciatus curse on a child. No matter how horrible a child may act, we do not lay our hands or our wands on them. I myself do not believe that a child deserves to feel the kind of pain that has been laid on so many of our Order members. I have felt it," she looked at him hard, "you have felt it. No child, in my school, will ever feel it."
Snape gave no recognition that he'd heard anything she'd said at all. "Continuing, I have chosen to ban one, single spell. The curse 'Sectumsempra' will not be used in my halls. Any professor found using it will be sacked without trial. Any student will be expelled. It does not matter the post, or the House, the curse will not be used." At that point, the door to the classroom swung open, and in walked two rather frightening people. "Ah, yes, these are the two newest editions to Hogwarts: Alecto," he pointed to a broad-shouldered woman who was currently fluttering her eyelashes at him, "and Amycus Carrow. Alecto will be teaching Muggle Studies, which, I might add, is now a mandatory class for all students. Amycus will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, and will also be in charge of discipline. All students that need to be put in detention will be referred to him. Oh, and Sirius?" He looked at him, smirking.
"What?"
"You will be teaching Transfiguration alongside Minerva." Sirius, who had been expecting to be sacked, sat up.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Would you rather be dismissed?"
"No I'm alright, but thanks for offering."
--
