Chapter 3
September 1990
You took a cautious sniff of the dingy brown vapor that rose from the large glass jar. Sharp and sour, the thickening liquid still had a hint of vinegar from the pickling solution.
“Still no good,” you mutter and screw the lid back on tight.
Red Banded Caterpillars had to be pickled in a strong solution- it kept them usable for many months and countered the effects of their natural oil secretions. A good way to tell if they were ready was to smell for vinegar; fully pickled caterpillars would have neutralized the scent of vinegar completely.
It wouldn't be much longer now- only a few more days- but you dreaded having to face Snape.
Since the start of the term two weeks ago, after his little tirade at the opening ceremonies, you had been avoiding him.
“Him and that stupid list.” you grumbled and stowed the jar away.
All the crazy additions he had requested previously had been a massive undertaking to complete in just one weeks time. Dehydrated bat spleens, porcupine quills, doxy eggs- things that he wouldn't even need till the second half of the term after the winter holidays!
Of course you had considered going to Dumbledore about it, but no. It was going to be so much better to show up the crotchety Potions Master and stroll in with every silly thing he had demanded.
“Well it would have been great if it wasn't for these stupid caterpillars that refuse to be pickled.”
The first attempt at pickling had ended before it started. You had stopped by Hagrid’s hut for tea after harvesting a bucket of caterpillars. Unfortunately, one of his creatures had gotten the lid to your bucket open and eaten every single caterpillar.
Once you had finally managed to get a fresh batch, the big jar you had planned on using was cracked. In fact, all your big jars had mysteriously been cracked and rendered unusable.
Fine no big deal, you huffed. We’ll use the slightly smaller jars. It’ll be a pain but it’ll get the job done. Then you found the big jug in the supply closet you had thought was vinegar was actually lantern oil. Filch threw a fit about it, because it was apparently the jug of oil he had been looking for and was convinced you had stolen it.
You sighed deeply. All in all, it had been a nightmare to get the damn things going.
“Well at least I have the fairies wings nice and neatly pressed.” Not that it had been much easier. Wrangling fairies and harvesting their wings was delicate work. You grabbed the large box off the table beside you and patted it gently. “I’ll just give him these and after that I don’t care anymore. He can get as irritated as he wants- potions isn’t the only class I’ve been assigned to!”
A chill settled into you as you turned a corner into the stone hallway and you sneezed miserably. The dank moldy air of the dungeons always caused a reaction, the moment you stepped foot into the hallways leading to them.
You'll make this quick. Just drop off the wings and go before he gets a chance to be cruel.
“Professor Snape?”
You try the door but it's locked tight. He must be in his office.
A quick charm unlocked the door to the pitch black classroom and you quickly put away the box in the supply closet.
Now down the narrow corridor on the other end of the hall. And sure enough, a faint light glowed from under the door to Snape’s office.
You raised your hand to knock but he beat you with a sharp command.
“Stop dawdling out there- come in!”
Snape sat behind his desk with a stack of papers and a pot of red ink. Corrected parchments were strewn around the desk between three more stacks of work. On the floor, two boxes were filled with labeled bottles.
His brows were knit together in concentration but his dark eyes were slightly glazed. The dark locks framing his face were messy and frazzled.
“Professor?”
He didn’t bother looking up at you, his eyes drifting across the page in his hands.
“Yes [Last Name]?”
You shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to start. Ugh, it felt like you were back in first year potions. This was precisely the reason you tried so desperately to stay invisible in your classes with him. As much as you loved potions, his ability to make you feel small- just saying your name with the perfect amount of spite- forced you to turn your passion inward and to stay out of sight.
When you didn't respond he put down the parchment he was working on. “Was there something you needed, Professor [Last Name]?” he repeated in an icy tone.
“We'll, it's about the last few ingredients you requested Professor. I know it’s taken a couple extra weeks, but I’ve left the fairies wings in your classroom. It’s just a matter of waiting for the pickled caterpillars….” you trailed off when you noticed the raised brow. He didn’t have a single clue what you were talking about.
The absolute nerve! You could feel your face flush; he treats you like some green first year, is rude and condescending, humiliates you in front of your colleague just to be spiteful- all for him to forget completely and make you feel like a fool for trying to finish your work.
The scowl on your face said it all and he rolled his eyes and groaned in annoyance.
“[Last Name], while I am just delighted to know your capable hands are able to prepare the most rudimentary of ingredients, I am very busy.” He rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers and dragged a hand through wispy black hair.
When Snape looked back down at the parchment his eyes seemed to glaze over again, and you now noticed they were bloodshot. The amount of new students combined with Snape’s harsh curriculum, he was well behind on grades. Not being able to gauge at what level each class was at made tailoring his course difficult- it would be useless to try and teach the students any potions at all if they didn't understand the basics of the ingredients and brewing.
“Is all this work from just these last couple of weeks?” You reached out to grab a parchment from the desk but the look he shot you made you drop your arm back down.
His attitude wouldn’t deter you though; this wasn't right and you weren’t going to just drop it. Dumbledore had taken you in and trusted you with the work of teaching the students. And if the stubborn dungeon bat had made a mess out of his own need to be a vicious professor then fine. But you weren't going to let the students suffer for it.
You set a firm look on your face and stood up a bit straighter.
“Professor Snape, I absolutely insist you let me help you with this. Potions is my department too, and that means working alongside you to make the term and the work go smoothly.”
“Really, well, if you were any good they would have just let you take over wouldn't they? Maybe given you a class of your own to teach?” The deep drawl of his voice felt almost threatening.
That made you wince and take a step back. How was he so good at hitting where it really hurt?
“Like it or not, I AM a professor assigned to your potions department. Dumbledore has enough faith in my ability to assign me here and that should be enough for you to trust me to help you. And while I might not have been at the top, I did succeed in your N.E.W.T. potions class. At least you should be able to trust what you've taught me.”
You breathed deeply to keep calm, grateful that your voice hadn’t betrayed the emotion you felt, and turned to leave.
Well whatever; if he wanted to suffer all year long then let him.
He called out your name when you reached the door.
"Every Monday through Thursday night. You’ll be in charge of grading the work of the first, second, and third years under my supervision.”
This was your job. This was why you were here. You had quickly garnered a reputation of reliability in the weeks leading up to the new term; the other professors had no problem entrusting their students and their work to you.
But hearing it come from Snape was different. Even if it was resigned and due to it being impossible to keep up with the work.
You grinned and spoke over your shoulder as you left his office.
“I’ll be around tomorrow then. Goodnight Professor.”