Start of Term Feast
1st September 1993
Hogwarts School Of WitchCraft And Wizardry
The faint clicks of boots can be heard across the great hall, as all the settled professors help their headmaster prepare for the start of term feast.
A particularly brooding professor, with black hair, and dark clothes was currently pacing the large hall as he made arrangements with the house elves and other members of staff.
“Move the banner to the left. Left. Other. Left.” He seethed, frustration overtaking him. His wand pointed at the largest and most important slytherin banner hanging just perfectly centered above the long table.
He mumbled a few profanities going over his checklist in a rather rushed and frustrated manner.
20 minutes until the students arrived. He pushed his hair back with his free hand assessing the room carefully.
A cool sweat breaks out on the back of his neck, the robe sticking to the sweat. All the preparations for the evening were flourishing, banners strung and the floors receiving a nice scrub. Though a bit outdated and muggle, the house elves scrubbed on their freely clothed hands and knees, a work of good conscience Albus Dumbledoor. Daft bat.
Perfecting the last slytherin banner, Snape took a step back, admiring his work. His newest students shall be impressed with the work, and if they weren’t, sod those bloody brats.
Some children were really entitled these days, especially that Harry Potter and his ability encompass James way too much.
Still, Snape’s heart ached for one of his only friends in his boyhood, a woman that is now a ghost. All due to the same arrogance her boy embodies currently.
He pocketed his wand and called over Mr. Filch to finish tending to the house elves. Most everything else was finalized by now and the flurry of the chaotic environment was beginning to slow. Which meant that the nausea was beginning to set in.
And it was then Severus decided he would need a drink, something strong perhaps. ‘Fire Whiskey should do quite nicely’ he thought to himself making a mental note for after the feast.
The anxiety pooled low in his stomach with disagreement. He fidgeted, hastily pacing back and forth while he wasn’t restricted to just his seat for the time being.
The unsettling feeling trickling down his spine warned him of the events yet to come as he took his seat at the long Professor’s podium waiting impatiently for the children’s arrivals, which would take place any moment
He’d decided he hadn’t had any peace today and just needed some silence while he ate his meal. Quickly reaching for his wand he mumbled a few charms and put it back where he kept it.
This would make it so throughout the evening the loud obnoxious and overwhelming sounds of the hundreds of school children wouldn’t make it impossible for him to do any thinking.
Usually with his gift of occlumency this usually wasn’t an issue that affected him, however being as distracted as he was and as frustrated as he seemed to be, his efforts as well as his ability to keep calm and quiet about it were starting to evade him.
Usually his frustrations weren’t usually the reason for his occlumentive walls breaking down but this seemed to be a deep rooted sense of panic he couldn't escape.
His previously freshly ironed robes now wrinkled slowly and surely irritating him more. He took his seat at the large table tapping the golden goblet with his wand slightly.
Wine. That is all that happened to cross his mind. Surely enough he was able to drink. Usually he wouldn't allow himself alcohol, but when it was a night like tonight he couldn't quite seem to control himself.
As the other staff started to pile into the room and fill in their seats his foot tapped against the neat cobblestoned floors anxiously.
It should be the way it is every year; Minerva to his left, Poppy two seats from his right and, in previous years, Quirrel, Lockheart, and soon to be Lupin, to his right.
Severus hasn’t thought about actually having to face him in years. Not since the incident. Panic and dread set in as the sound of his boot started to increase in volume as dread filled his body. There was no escape from what was to come. The coffin was nailed shut, as they say. Now it was his responsibility to try to take short breaths and not suffocate himself. Quite the gruesome analogy when you’d put thought into it.
As the room slowly started to fill with children and the staff table grew full he began to realize the chair next to him in fact, remained empty. He pondered the whereabouts of the professor who should reside next to him, he wanted his anxiousness desperately to subside, but knew it may not be a possibility for the moment. He hastily gulped back the rest of his wine and sat back distracting himself with the eavesdropping on a pretty intriguing neighboring conversation.
The unfamiliar sting of wine ejecting from his esophagus as he tried to take a sip shot through him all too quickly. And sting indeed it did.
Remus John Lupin, was many things. And since his graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had become many things as well. It appears that he has become rather handsome in his time away. More scars than the last time these two had set eyes on each other, and by far taller and stronger, but it seemed that he had the same sullen yet beautiful eyes as before. So full of pain.
Severus decided he wouldn’t dwell on this, to him it seemed a rather good idea to continue on drinking as if he did not just choke and burn his esophagus to shreds with the regurgitated murky alcohol.
Instead he would choose to focus on the feeling of impending doom panging deep within his chest.
As the taller man, who smells of surprisingly chocolate, takes his seat next to the brooding dark-haired professor.
Severus doesn’t even breathe, not if he doesn’t have to. He keeps his gaze at attention, head forward, monotone expression, and no acknowledgement of others.
It is only when Remus makes himself comfortable and content with his drink that someone speaks up.
“Hello Severus.”
Hesitation. Not something that plagued the shorter man so often, but oh when it did.
“Lupin.” It was quiet, but his volume was effective. The silence between them was deafening.
The only knife that seemed to cut the tension was Minerva’s voice breaking them both out of their trance.
“Severus?” She asked curtly. His interest officially peaked as he turned his attention elsewhere.
Minerva’s ill, but perfectly timed interruption gave the perfect outlet to avoid the uncomfortable situation daunting them both at the moment.
Soon the feast would occupy them, giving them an excuse not to converse with each other. It may only lead to, for turn of phrase, a bloodbath. And it would seem the great hall, in front of students aged eleven to seventeen and all the current staff of a prestigious and distinguished school for witchcraft, is quite the inappropriate setting for an occasion as brutal as such.
Minerva’s intervention consisted of a question about a plant she seemed ‘rather taken with’ but as she continued it was obvious she hadn't the faintest idea of what she was talking about; she just wanted to ease some tension.
The taller professor occupied himself with listening intently to what was supposed to be relevant; the headmaster's speech. He started to wonder why none of the other professors seemed to care, or even look up; no matter, he’d try to busy himself with listening.
Severus, eternally grateful his silencing charm was working so well, continued his conversation with his elder, grateful for such a distraction. His current situation left an unwanted sour taste behind. He couldn’t even find it within him to even want to like it.
He couldn’t even find it in him to listen to another one of Albus Dumbledore’s ‘Welcome to Hogwarts’ speeches.
As most professors turned their heads to give their full attention to their headmaster, there was all but one who remained disinterested.
He kept his gaze low and drank from his goblet periodically. No attention was to be drawn to him. He applauded once he noted everyone else was doing so, making sure to be aware of his physical surroundings.
It’s only when he hears a voice, one that seemingly agitates him further that he is broken from his thoughts.
“Shouldn’t you be paying close attention?” His gaze still forward as he tried to continue listening to the headmaster.
Violently pulled from his thoughts, the potions professor leaned back slightly and feigned attention, facing front.
“Albus Dumbledore has many qualities. Yet, he lacks originality, at the very least, regarding speeches related to the beginning of a new term.” He retorts, still disinterested but showing no sign of it.
Remus, amused, remains trying to listen. A small chuckle evades him as he takes a sip out of his mug. The hot chocolate warms his insides as a slight shiver rolls down his spine.
“You’d think in all these years since we’d gone to school he’d think of something new to say to the children…” he commented.
“It's almost a pity really…I’d be more sorrowful if I didn’t resent the old man.” Severus answered him.
And there it was, a moment. Where Severus seemed less guarded, and Remus seemed more human.
And it almost lasted too, if it weren’t for the announcement of Remus’s position that startled them both.
He stood and accepted his applause graciously before taking his seat once more.
He could have sworn he almost heard Severus laugh.
“Amused?” He replied a bit wearily.
“No. Annoyed.” He states not bothering to make eye contact.
The taller man nods for a moment, a bit perplexed but keeping silent.
There was some silence between before the food appeared on their plates.
Severus refused to touch it. A distant yet faintly solemn glance is all that remained on his pale features. As he tried to ignore all the luscious nutritional food on the plate in front of him.
Severus had long been over his unhealthy relationship with food, it was something he overcame as well as many other hardships in his life. Though it seemed his time back at spinners end seemed to sort of break him from his progress.
He stared down at his food disinterested. He grimaced and took another sip of his wine.
Remus did seem to take notice of the dark haired professor’s lack of interest in the food but found it wise to keep quiet.
Afterall, there could be thousands of reasons he wasn’t interested in it. And this of course was not his place to say and nor did he need or want it to be. Who was he to judge the choices of another?
The feast seems to be a good way for both of them to escape conversation with each other as well as others.
As the evening dwindled down and the night came to a close the students headed off to their dormitories and the staff started to slowly trickle away.
Severus exhaled sharply, as if he had been holding onto something weighing him down.
“Right then, Lupin, I've sent the instructions of our arrangement, to your living chambers. Please follow them exactly as they are. No amendments. That is all, I shall see you again tomorrow, at 10 o’clock. Sharp.” He says promptly, not even bothering for a response as he turns to leave.
‘What a year it's going to be.’ He thought.
Oh Remus.
He hasn’t the slightest idea.