2.

Foolish Test Tube Waving

In his first lesson, Severus is met with a chorus of excitement, students gleeful at the prospect of a chemistry teacher who isn't quite as ferocious as Miss Hardbroom. Severus is piqued by assumption and glares so viciously that every teenager in the room freezes in their place.

"I would like to disabuse you of the notion that this class will be one in which you may waste time."

A smug looking girl in the middle of the room leans over to her friend and stage-whispers "Still not as scary as HB."

Severus slams a book onto the desk and barks "By the time I am finished with you, you will be begging to be transferred into Miss Hardbroom's class. Now, open your books to chapter four so I can see if you've retained anything in the last four years."

"Aren't you gonna take the register, sir?" Asks a gum-chewing girl with her shirt half unbuttoned. She is leaning back in her chair like she owns the classroom. There is not a trace of fear in her. Severus doesn't know how to interpret such a situation. The most irritating part of it is, she's correct. Severus will never admit that he's rattled, but it's the only explanation for him forgetting a step in the process as basic as this. He turns to the register without acknowledging that she's right.

At the posh boys' school he's just been thrown out of, the register was organised by surnames – in fact, he could tell you the given names of perhaps a quarter of his students, generally those with a surname double-up. Joneses. Thompsons. This school, it seems, endeavours to treat their students as individuals. Severus has been here an hour and is already convinced it's working rather too well.

Alex Stryer, Alice Box, and Andy Jones are all present and correct. It isn't until he gets to Atrossitee Jenkins that Severus stumbles. He pronounces it Atross-ee-tee and is quickly corrected by the gum-chewing creature who first prompted him to take the register.

"You say it like 'atrocity'." She corrects him in a disdainful drawl. Severus straightens behind his desk and stares at her in incomprehension. He blinks slowly, trying to process this. How has he gone from teaching three minor royals to teaching a girl whose parents felt the desire to name their child 'atrocity'? Severus wants a drink and a cigarette. Immediately.

In want of these calming substances, Severus cannot keep himself from asking "Do you know the meaning of the word 'atrocity'?"

"Like a world war or wotever." She replies, arms folded purposefully beneath her breasts.

"And how do you feel about your parents naming you after an act of barbarity?"

"Don't fink abou' it much, do I?"

"A sentiment I'm sure you could apply to any number of scenarios." The words are out of his mouth even as he silently coaches himself to behave. There is nowhere further to fall from this point. If he loses this job, he will be relegated to Sainsbury's. And yet he can't bring himself to hold his tongue.

Atrossitee doesn't seem to know how to respond to his snide remark, and Severus' better instincts take hold, compelling him through the rest of the register. The register isn't the hardest part of the class, as it turns out, although it comes close. The hardest part of class is when Brad Hawthorn throws water on Becca West – who Severus has already picked as the most studious of the bunch – while screaming "ACID ATTACK!" The room breaks out in hysteria, and Severus, utterly unused to leading an out-of-control of a classroom, is momentarily lost amidst the tide of screaming and laughter.

Also not accustomed to having to raise his voice to regain control, Severus takes a moment to gather himself before shouting "Silence!"

The students seem as shocked as he is by the sudden blast of his voice and come to order immediately. Severus takes his advantage to bring them to heel, but it is still the worst class he's ever taught – worse, even, than the one that led to his dismissal.

The day doesn't improve from there. Severus catches up to Hecate in the corridor on the way back to the staff room, sniping "Fourth form knows as much as the junior students at my last school."

Hecate interprets this as an attack on her professionalism, given she's been teaching them since Mr Clarkson was stabbed by a rabid student wielding a broken test tube. She becomes instantly prickly. "I take it you shall save the day and have them all straight on their way to Oxbridge?"

He doesn't mean to start a fight with her – she's the only person who's seemed worthy of a conversation in his first half day of his new job, but Severus' defences are finely tuned weapons. In his lifetime he's not yet worked out how to sheathe them.

Instead of working to cultivate an ally, he snaps back "At least I have had students accepted to top universities."

Hecate does not attempt to control her anger more than Severus would, hissing "As have I!" at him with murder in her eyes.

"I doubt half the student body could locate Oxford or Cambridge on a map, let alone achieve A Level results to warrant admission."

"Perhaps some of us have taught at better institutions than this." Hecate growls.

Severus exhales firmly. So, everyone knows. Everyone already knows. He's not naïve enough to think that teachers don't gossip with each other, but he had hoped the news of his sacking from a top college would hold for a few weeks at least rather than a few hours.

"Who told you?" He hisses.

"What are you talking about?" Hecate retorts waspishly. He combs her face for a tell that she's covering.

Oh god.

She doesn't know.

He hasn't known her long, but he can see her confusion is genuine. Severus turns his gaze forward and murmurs "Never mind," before stalking off in the direction of the front doors to find somewhere private to smoke.