Prologue
Snape smooths down his new robes. Professor Snape. Fuck that was going to take some getting used to.
He has never made a habit of looking in the mirror. Actually up until now he has pretty much done whatever he could to avoid looking in one. Merlin he feels like the biggest bloody fraud. Still, if he can lie to the Dark Lord’s face, he can handle a few fucking teenagers right? Right?
The new robes help a little. Jet black. Austere. Authoritarian. He fleetingly thinks that perhaps the look rather suits his face. The bitter scowl looks more like it belongs on this stern Professor. Oh fuck, who is he kidding? He’s barely older than a teenager himself. He probably looks like some kid playing dress up. They are all going to laugh. They’re going to laugh, and point, and probably some of the upper years are going to remember his nickname. Especially the Gryffindors.
This was a bad idea. Bad idea…
‘Severus! There you are.’
He turns away from the murky and tarnished old mirror in the staff room, and tries to pretend that he had been reaching for something on the shelf next to it. He had been trying to avoid McGonnagall – sorry Minerva since yesterday afternoon.
His former Professor had taken it upon herself to mentor him or something, offering various nuggets of advice ahead of his first day of teaching. Most of it seemed to be contradictory.
“You have to be strict. But fair. Let them know who’s in charge, but don’t scare the living daylights out of them. You’re not trying to be anyone’s friend, but you need to earn their trust.”
Severus’ unspoken inner commentary on all of that was that nothing in life is fair (or he wouldn’t be here); frankly he’s probably more terrified than they are (but he is well versed in hiding that particular emotion); and the number of friends, or people who have trusted him over the years he could count on the fingers of one hand. With two fingers removed.
This was not going to go well. He knew that. Minerva knew that – despite her attempts at positivity. And the students probably knew it too; especially the ones who still remembered him being a student.
‘You look splendid.’ Minerva smiles anyway, reaching out to brush his shoulders, and ignoring his flinch. ‘Now just remember…’
‘Please, Professor – Minerva.’ Severus interrupts her. ‘I appreciate your… sentiments. However I do not think anything is going to help at this juncture.’ He checks his pocket watch. 20 minutes. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I must prepare the classroom.’ He says, even though he’s checked everything three times already.
‘Of course.’ Minerva nods and steps back. ‘Oh and Severus!’ She calls out, just as he has one foot out of the door. ‘You’ll do fine lad.’ She winks.
🖤💀🖤