Half-Blood Prince

Not only did I miss breakfast that next morning, I missed every meal in the Great Hall since. I couldn't bear to see Albus and his blasted twinkling eyes mocking me to my own damnation. Unfortunately, I was unable to pass on the start-of-term feast. Albus was insistent that I be there, some utter rubbish about how rude it would be for me to be absent when he formally announces my new position. I think he just wants to rub in his evil plot.

He was insistent I be there, but he did not once say I needed to be there on-time. So, after triple checking my stores, writing a list of supplies I'll need, showering, dressing and finally reviewing my lesson plan, I decided that after the Sorting would be the perfect time to arrive. But, best laid plans being what they are, I arrive in the Entrance Hall to a rather frazzled Minerva with a large clutch of first years. It would seem that everyone else had been working in slow motion as well.

"Apparently, punctuality is an option this evening," Minerva hisses under her breath, as I pass by.

Pausing, I cast a glare at the students and return in my most mocking tone, "Having issues, are we, Minerva?"

She rounds on me, her mouth a tight line. She raises one finger at me, but before she can spit her special brand of venom, a bright creature bursts through the wall behind the students and pauses in a nearby hallway. With barely a movement, I motion to her to look behind. Thankfully, the students haven't noticed the Patronus and I myself do not recognize the confused looking image so I can only guess who it might be from. She turns on her heel and makes a soft 'Oh' sound.

"If you will excuse me for a moment," she addresses the students. "Professor Snape will keep an eye on you all." The students start to turn to see where she is heading, but with a short, stern clearing of my throat and my patented down-the-nose glare, they all turn back in my direction. I like to believe that the scrawny looking boy with the straw coloured hair has actually wet himself.

After a brief moment, Minerva returns. Her lips are pulled tight once more. "Severus, it is a message from Tonks." Ah, so it was the twit's Patronus, quite pathetic. "Hagrid hasn't felt the need to tend to his duties this evening and I'm already late with the Sorting, so you'll have to go and open the gates for her."

"I think not...have Fil..."

"You could tend to the Sorting, instead." She gives me the most infuriatingly smug look.

"Where are the extra lanterns?" I return in a rather cool voice.

Smiling, she points to the door on the left. She actually has the audacity to pat my arm and say, "That's a good lad." I walk off, throwing her ice daggers with my eyes before grabbing a lantern from the cupboard and heading out the door.

Immediately, I'm hit with the fresh smells of a late summer evening. The air is heavy with the scent of honeysuckle and pine. I can feel the hairs on the nape of my neck prickle at the thicker than usual blanket of magic that envelopes the grounds. There is an unnatural silence, excluding the slight crackling in the air. The animals have gone quiet, possibly frightened by the power they obviously felt. In a nearby holly bush, a few faeries are huddling together, their lights dimming. Apparently, they must have gotten caught within the magic fields and aren't powerful enough to break out.

As I approach the gate, the diminutive form of Nymphadora Tonks is suddenly joined by one of the many banes of my existence as the 'Chosen One' pulls off his invisibility cloak.

"Well, well, well," I say sneering, as I pull out my wand. Tapping it on the lock once, the chains snake back and the gate creaks open. My eyes wash over the boy's form in the darkness, drinking in everything from his worn trainers to the splattering of dried blood across his face. "Nice of you to turn up, Potter, although you have evidently decided that the wearing of school robes would detract from your appearance."

"I couldn't change, I didn't have my - " Potter begins, but I ignore him, instead addressing the Metamorphmagus.

"There is no need to wait, Nymphadora, Potter is quite - ah - safe in my hands." As I speak I allow my eyes to travel over the boy again, giving her a malicious smile. I do so enjoy taunting the little twit.

"I meant Hagrid to get the message," she retorts with a frown.

"Hagrid was late for the start-of-term feast, just like Potter here, so I took it instead. And incidentally," I reply, moving back to allow the whelp to pass, "I was interested to see your new Patronus." Shutting the gate in her face with a loud clang, I tap the chains and they slither and clink back into place.

"I think you were better off with the old one," I say, my voice thick with malice. "The new one looks weak." A wolf, indeed. As though we weren't all overly aware of her pathetic pining for Lupin. Too bad he fancied...well, it doesn't matter who he fancied, now does it.

I swing the lantern toward the school, turning my back on what I can only imagine to be her natural faced anger.

"Good night," Potter calls to her, sidling up to me. "Thanks for...everything."

"See you, Harry," the bint responds as we trudge up the path toward the castle.

I watch, out of the corner of my eye, the body language on the insolent brat. Anger comes off his body in waves and I have to suppress an urge to smile. I allow him to move ahead of me a bit. I notice how appallingly thin he is and I shudder as I remember what Albus had told me about the boy's relatives during our last 'Save our Saviour' conversation. Their neglect answers all my questions about his ill-fitted attire. My eyes wander along his skinny frame, he has shot up a few inches these past few months. His face no longer holds baby fat and...is that stubble on his jaw?

What the hell am I doing? I suppress another shudder as I bark, "Fifty points from Gryffindor for lateness, I think." I pause, feeling those odd thoughts fade from my mind. "And, let me see, another twenty for your Muggle attire. You know, I don't believe any House has ever been in negative figures this early in the term: We haven't even started pudding. You might have set a record, Potter."

Rage pours off the whelp. Part of me wishes I was the complete cause of this anger. But I know better, based on his bloody face alone. The other part of me feels disgustingly dissatisfied to see him in such a state. Yet I continue to berate him.

"I suppose you wanted to make an entrance, did you?" I can't seem to shut myself up, but then it isn't as though I'm trying that hard to stop. "And with no flying car available you decided that bursting into the Great Hall halfway through the feast ought to create a dramatic effect."

The boy remains silent. I have to admit, as much as I'm not getting my usual pleasure at 'Potter baiting' as I usually do, needling him does make up for the inconvenience of being late for the feast. Who cares if I hadn't wanted to be there in the first place.

As we reach the castle steps, the doors swing open. The sounds of the feast reach our ears and glancing over again I can almost see what he is thinking, even without Legilimency. "No cloak. You can walk in so that everyone sees you, which is what you wanted, I'm sure."

He turns away from me and storms off toward his table and I watch him in silence. Suddenly I realize I'll need to punish myself later, à la house-elf style, when I realize I was caught in a moment of contemplation...staring at his arse.

Mentally berating myself, I head toward my chair at the High Table. Albus looks over at me, those damned eyes smiling, smiling with knowledge. Damn him. I long to stand, crashing my chair to the floor and announce his plans to make me his murderer. To show them how insane their fearless leader really is. Instead, I turn my attentions to my beloved House and the cretins who have made it the mockery it is becoming.

Draco catches my eye as he mimes what looks to be him shattering someone's nose...

I glance at Potter, who is being cleaned by that bint Granger, and it dawns on me. I make another mental note to speak with Draco on the importance of keeping a low profile.

My attention is caught by Albus, standing to make his announcements. His gaudy purple and gold robes are enough to cause the stirrings of a migraine.

"The very best of evenings to you!" he says, spreading his arms, exposing his wounded hand. The students begin to whisper and I silently curse his bloody-mindedness. He shakes down his sleeve and smiles. "Nothing to worry about," Damned fool! "Now...to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you..."

I block him out, I have listened to this speech so often that I find I'd much rather glare at the students. I notice Slughorn and I grimace. He was a mediocre Potions master when he taught me, I cannot imagine his skill has improved during his time of posh retirement. It is sad to say, but I no longer want the Defence position. I will miss my Potions classroom, the hiss of simmering concoctions, the bubble of shimmering liquids...

My attention is caught again as the Headmaster announces Slughorn's position. Even my Slytherins seem shocked.

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," Albus continues over the muttering and whispers, "will be taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"No!" I hear the distinctive voice of Potter cry out over the crowd. I turn to glare at him but something in those emerald eyes speaks of something other than simple hate. I have no time to analyse this as the room is staring at me.

Feck, damn, shit, hell!

I hate these moments, so I only raise my hand, lazily, to acknowledge the applause from my House. I force a smug look to my face, it is weak. There is one good thing, the job is jinxed, at least I know he is serious about me being hunted...

My own thoughts are driving me mad, I attempt to drown them out by concentrating on the old fool.

"Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength." The silence is deafening and out of the corner of my eye I see Malfoy screwing around. Damn him too!

"I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle's magical..." on he drones...

Safety? No one is safe. Not them, not Potter, not Malfoy...we are all in grave danger. I know this, well, we all do, but for me it sits like lead in my stomach, this feeling of imminent death.

I look toward Potter once more, his brilliant eyes fixed upon the Headmaster. Something within my chest twists, something longs to grab the boy and hide him...and myself. I cannot explain this feeling, it sickens me. I hate Potter, as I hated his father and his Mudblood mother. And yet...

"But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!" Albus' voice has pulled me from my most disturbing thoughts.

The Hall is filled with the sound of a few hundred students scraping and banging their way out of the room. I stand, looking to see if I can escape unnoticed, when I spy that damned boy yet again. He seems to be lingering, that Weasley glued to his side. I watch them go, again, that feeling that I should take him...away...seems to overwhelm me.

"I must be ill," I say out loud.

"Ill? You, Severus?" squeaks Flitwick. The small man is hopping down from his pile of books. "I've never known you to be ill, even as a student." He beams up at me, damn his effervescent personality.

Unfortunately for him, I do not share his overly sunny disposition. I sneer, saying, "Well, Filius, everything changes, now doesn't it?" And before he can respond, I storm off, a billow of black cloak. I have things to plan...Potter will be in my first class tomorrow.