Severus sat stiffly in his seat, his muscles rigid, his jaw clenched. He breathed through his nose slowly, waiting. The children had finally taken their seats at their House Tables, chatting loudly in high pitched, grating voices. To them, of course it probably felt like years since they had roamed the halls of Hogwarts, but to Severus the summer months had gone by achingly quickly. He already missed the quiet of the castle without insufferable teenagers for him to control.

He glared at the Gryffindor table. Lee Jordan was attracting a large crowd of admirers with the contents of a box. He was flanked on either side by the Weasley twins, who were shooting furtive glances at the staff table. How idiotic, that they thought they were being so discreet while all the while being so obnoxiously obvious.

It had to start soon. It would be any minute now.

Just then, the large doors to the left of the Entrance Hall opened to reveal Minerva McGonagall, looking austere as ever. Severus felt his heart accelerate and he wiped his palms on the inside of his robes. It was ridiculous, absurd. He didn't care in the slightest that he was coming to Hogwarts this year, he didn't care at all which House the damn hat put him in.

Severus wasn't entirely sure who he was trying to convince of this

He stared straight ahead, rigidly refusing to look at the line of first year students. It didn't matter what he looked like, did it? None of it mattered anymore.

Student after student was called upon to sit on the stool and don the hat. Severus clapped politely along with the rest of the staff, perhaps clapping slightly harder when a student was sorted into Slytherin. Still though, he refused to turn his neck a degree, and instead fixed his gaze on the back of the Hall. He resolutely controlled every muscle in his body, moving only to clap his hands.

When Minerva shouted the name "Malfoy, Draco," Severus could not help but glance up in spite of himself. He saw a thin boy with sleek blonde hair approach the rickety stool. He smiled thinly when Draco was sorted into Slytherin as soon as the hat touched his head. This was Lucius and Narcissa's boy, of course he would be in Slytherin.

He immediately returned to his vigil, his back tense. He would be sorted soon.

"Potter, Harry!"

The Hall immediately fell silent, and then picked up again with buzzing whispers. This irked Severus more than he wanted it to. Of course the boy was famous, destined always to be the center of attention.

Severus had told himself he wasn't going to look, wasn't going to spare the boy a glance, but he could not help himself. He had to know. He had to know if he looked like her.

He finally saw him, walking toward the stool with a look of apprehension on his face, and immediately wanted to be sick. Of course he didn't look like her. He looked like him. The ridiculously messy jet black hair, the nose, the boy even wore glasses.

This must be some sort of sick joke that the universe was playing on him. Of course, the entirety of Severus' life had been some sort of sick and twisted joke so he wasn't entirely surprised. But still, of all the things he had been forced to stomach and endure in his miserable life, this was perhaps the most ironically cruel.

It was as though he had been transported back in time to his own first year. He was nothing but a stuttering oddball, feeling awkward, wondering if anyone would notice the shabby state of his robes, and feeling already disappointed that his naïve hope that Hogwarts would be the place he finally fit in somewhere was dashed. Because there was Potter. Looking fucking identical to the bastard who had made his life hell for years and who had finally won her over when he could not.

What a cruel joke.

The Hat took a very long time to sort the boy, which Severus was perhaps more annoyed by than he should have been. He wanted him to be sorted into Gryffindor immediately, as his arrogant father before him, so that his suspicions that the boy was like him could be confirmed. But the Hat was silent for what felt like hours though could only have been a few minutes.

Finally, though, the hat shouted "Gryffindor" and Severus' misgivings were dashed. Of course he was in Gryffindor. The Gryffindor table erupted, and the Weasley twins started chanting "We got Potter! We got Potter!" The boy looked nothing short of delighted by the attention he was receiving, as his father would have been.

Severus did not even listen to the sorting of the rest of the students, did not care where the other children ended up. They were all the same, anyway. He stared rigidly ahead, hating that his blood was pumping, hating that he felt so ridiculously angry. He had been a double agent, for Merlin's sake. He had lied flawlessly to the most powerful wizard of all time. He had been able to control his grief and his anger and his pent up resentment. He had contained all of it, always. And one sight of James Potter's clone of a son and he was reeling, unable to focus on anything.

Of course, he didn't want to think about why the boy affected him this way.

Dumbledore stood up and said something as nonsensical as he always did, and then the feast began. Severus was eating without tasting. He was faintly aware that the idiot Quirrell was talking to him about something or other, but he didn't even bother to pretend he was listening. Because the echo of a long ago conversation was reverberating in his mind.

He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans' eyes, I am sure?

Almost against his will, his eyes found the boy amidst the crowd of Gryffindors, happily eating their fill. He had to know.

As if he sensed Severus' gaze, the boy looked up at the staff table and his eyes locked with Severus'. His stomach lurched.

What a fucking cruel joke this was. That this boy existed was incontrovertible proof that she had chosen him, had married him, had loved him. Because staring at him out of James Potter's face, with a combination of fear and a bit of defiance, were Lily Evans' eyes. He hated that her eyes were looking at him that way, before he realized what a ridiculous thing that was to think.

The boy flinched noticeably and turned away, and Severus' blood was pumping and he realized that for the first time in a long time he had no idea what facial expression he was making, no idea whether he had been glaring obviously. There was a familiar pain in his chest that he hadn't felt so acutely in over ten years.

He only knew that he hated the boy. He hated him for existing at all. He hated him for making him feel so raw and out of control. And more than anything, he hated him for reminding him so incredibly forcefully of what he had done.