First Dose
The classroom was silent as Severus Snape swept inside, his black robes billowing behind him like a storm cloud.
Students shrank back, eyes wide with the kind of fear he had already come to expect.
Good.
Fear was necessary. It kept students in line and prevented the foolish ones from attempting to waste his time with their incompetence.
Without hesitation, he strode to the front of the room, his back to the students as he arranged his lesson materials with practiced precision. His movements were sharp, deliberate–he was in control here.
This was his domain.
He turned, letting his gaze sweep across the classroom lazily. “I am Professor Snape,” he said, his voice smooth, authoritative. “In this class, you will learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. I do not tolerate foolishness, nor do I reward mediocrity. If you are expecting leniency, you will not find it here.”
Silence.
He retrieved the parchment from his desk, and the flick of his wrist was sharp as he unrolled it.
“Attendance,” he announced. “Say ‘here’ when I call your name. Do not waste my time.”
One by one, he went down the list. Names blurred together, irrelevant. He was utterly composed, entirely in control.
Then–
“Callista Malfoy.”
“Here.”
A simple word, spoken smoothly, but something about it sent a sharp jolt through him. The voice–
His gaze snapped up, scanning the rows of students until his eyes locked onto hers.
Severus Snape felt the floor give way beneath him for the first time in his life.
Callista Malfoy.
She was sitting near the back, surrounded by friends, as if she belonged there. As if she hadn’t been tangled in his sheets mere days ago, whispering his name like a secret.
It was impossible.
And yet, there she was, Ravenclaw tie neatly knotted, quill poised between delicate fingers. She looked effortlessly poised, striking as ever–but he wasn’t fooled. There was tension in her shoulders, the slight rigidity of someone who had been dreading this moment.
She knew.
Of course, she knew.
His mouth went dry. His fingers tightened around the parchment, crumpling it slightly at the edges.
This could not be happening.
He forced his eyes back to the paper, reading the final names without tearing his eyes from the parchment or caring whether they said they were present. When the last name was read, he set the paper on his desk, looking up at last and focusing on the doors in the back of the room.
“Wel–” He stopped, his voice catching. He cleared his throat sharply, forcing his composure back into place. “Welcome to Potions,” he continued, colder this time, harsher. “Open your books to page ten. I have neither the time nor the patience for incompetence.”
Calli didn’t flinch. Didn’t react.
But her grip on her quill tightened ever so slightly.
Snape turned sharply, hiding the chaos in his chest beneath the heavy weight of his robes.
This was a nightmare.
And it had only just begun.