Chapter 1
Severus stalked down the halls of Hogwarts, his internal monologue filled with swear words and grumbles. He clutched his briefcase in hand as he rounded a corner and nearly took out his boss.
”Merlin, Severus!” McGonagall exclaimed as she pressed her hand to her chest. “Why are you always walking like you’re on a mission?”
”I’m not in the mood right now, Minerva,” Severus muttered. As he moved around her, she stopped him with a curled hand around his bicep.
“Hang on a minute,” she said, pulling him to turn to her. “How did the meeting go?” Severus gave her a look that said everything he didn’t have to. The older woman frowned, her shoulders drooping just a bit. “That bad? Again? I read over your proposal, I didn’t see any issues with it. Why do they keep denying you?”
”You know why,” Severus mumbled as he gently wrenched his arm from her grip. “I’m not undergoing that ritual of humiliation again. I’m done. I’ll live out the rest of my days in this godforsaken castle doling out detentions and cleaning up mystery fluids from idiotic children.”
McGonagall tutted and shook her head. “I’ll do my best not to take offense to your employment being described in such a charming manner. It is unlike you to give up, Severus.”
Severus cut his eyes away from her, warmth spreading across his cheeks and chest at the accusation. “There’s a saying that insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”
”You are not insane, nor are you suited to proverbs that remind me of Albus,” McGonagall chuckled as she patted his cheek. “Our semi-annual audit is coming up next week. Hermione will be here. Why don’t you ask her for a recommendation when she’s evaluating your classes?”
Severus made another face and dipped his head down. “I will not beg the Minister for Magic for a handout.”
”It’s not a handout, Severus. Your work is thorough, ground-breaking, and deserves recognition — past or no past. You’ve more than atoned for your sins. At least ask her to look it over. I’m sure she would be happy to have something other than running the country to occupy her mind for a tick.”
Severus made a low noise in the base of his throat and looked up at her. “This sounds like an ultimatum. Do not speak to her on my account, Minerva. I mean it.”
McGonagall smirked and shook her head. “Don’t make me have to, Severus. Now go back down to your cave. I’m not covering any more of your lessons today.”
//
Severus sat in his office, nursing his second glass of tequila that night. His mind whirred, replaying the encounter with the Department of Research within the Ministry on a loop. What could he have said differently? Should he have dressed better? Done his hair a new way? Smiled more?
Merlin fucking forbid.
This was how life was for him now. He had yet to decide whether it was better than being dead, but… nobody other than Minerva McGonagall would give him the time of day. In the days spent in St. Mungo’s, recovering from the physical and emotional trauma the Dark Lord had inflicted upon him in those last terrifying moments of the war, he had had no intention of returning to Hogwarts. Ideally, he’d have preferred to become a hermit from the world for a few decades at least, but his assets had been seized by the Ministry following his trial. Though he retained his freedom and the benefits of an Order of Merlin, First Class, everything else he’d had — which hadn’t been much — had been taken as one last cruel jab from the universe. With no family home or measurable wealth, nor chances given for interviews from any magical establishment within a thousand leagues, he had come to Minerva with his tail between his legs. She had readily re-hired him and spent far too many opportunities apologizing to him for not having faith after Dumbledore died. He had reassured her countless times that he held no ill will toward her and she needn’t feel guilty, and eventually had barred her from ever bringing it up again because he was tired of being reminded of that time.
Teaching had never been his first career choice, nor his second, or even twentieth, but he was good at it. His students, despite hating his methods and cheery disposition, always outperformed the Ministry’s predicted benchmarks for them. Magical child development had plateaued since the war and the couple years leading up to it, given everyone was preoccupied with staying alive than learning basic charms. The school had closed for five years following the fight for repairs and much-needed re-evaluation of curriculum.
Now, eight years following the worst day of the Wizarding World’s history, they were trying to set things right again. Make everything normal. Not forget but… live life without a constant banner announcing who’d they’d lost hanging over their heads.
Taking another sip of the clear liquor in his glass, he grit his teeth and set the cup down. He would blame it on the alcohol for entertaining Minerva’s ludicrous plan to ambush Hermione Granger and ask for her help.