Acceptance

Acceptance

By Miss Tito

Chapter Six - Meanwhile, in the Dungeons...

After another long day of classes, horrible, long, boring, drawn-out, painfully slow classes, Severus slumped into his favorite woebegone beaten-down leather sofa. Opposite him, his wall of paintings, both by himself and his late girlfriend, forced him into his usual post-work brooding.

Those paintings. I really don't like them too much. I should just paint something else to replace them - a snake would do. Or a still life of a few of my... more interesting bottles. Eh - I don't really like still lives either. Especially that one from Susanna - it doesn't fit in. Too bright. Miss Granger - Hermione - damn her. She was right, as always. Insufferable know-it-all. Twenty points from Gryffindor for being too damned nosy to keep in her own business. Doesn't know what's good for her. Why couldn't I have kept the focus on MY paintings, just as a point of interest. Just like her to find the ONE thing that I wouldn't want her to and bring it into sight, plain as you please!

And there I was, trying to help her lessen the traumas of her own life. Poor thing, she can't grade her essays fast enough! Woe is she! At least she didn't have other professors in doubt of her allegiances.

I know all about being the new teacher on the block, oh yes. Potion ingredients flung at me by students only four years my junior! And the war, at the same time! The taunts, rumors, half of them actually TRUE, following me. Oh, but I showed enough, I sure did. Oh yes.

And then there were the meetings. Not only those with the Death Eaters. I could stand being watched by twenty other people wearing the exact same thing as myself, but the Order meetings were torture. Everyone cooing around Potter, stupid Potter, with his stupid child and Mudblood wife. Such a HERO James is, Severus, if only you could see... I saw it all right. A true hero of word and deed!. And me working my ass off behind the scenes and only glares from half the Order to repay me. Only Dumbledore to talk to, really, and he always tried to press some inane sort of Muggle sweet on me. And now he's dead and Minerva's there, but she mocks me and MISS GRANGER pries where she shouldn't!

The Potions Master, really in a much fouler mood than his surface thoughts conveyed, meandered into the kitchen for a cup of tea. Seeing the boxes, with their cheery façades and fuzzy pictures of the interior of what could pass for Santa Claus's house, sent him into a fit of rage.

These tea boxes look like something that the cow Umbridge would keep in her cupboard! Can't the house-elves put my sodding tea in plain old glass jars instead of these atrocious schmaltzy capsules of dearness! Fuck it all, I'll just toss them. At least my coffee jars don't mock my décor with their insipid teddy-bears!

The dustbin shot across the kitchen to where Severus stood, shaking with irrational rage, wand at the ready. He jabbed his wand at the offending red plaid boxes and they leaped into the bin, one after the other, like lemmings off a cliff.

Finally satisfied with his actions, Severus set about brewing some Dreamless Sleep potion. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't sleep without it. Or rather, the ritual of making such a routine potion, complex though it was, allowed him to slip into a sort of trance. Severus snorted as he realized that he sounded like Trelawney.

Trance indeed. I've heard the only trances that occur in her room happen to the students who are put under by the noxious cloud of incense smoke that hangs about the place.

About an hour and many disjointed thoughts later, Severus bottled and labeled the potion, measured out enough to make him sleep until his alarm went off at six thirty-five the next morning, and swallowed it. The soft waves of sleepiness descended upon him as he changed into his grey flannel pajamas, and slipped into his utilitarian, standard-issue Hogwarts four-poster bed with green twill hangings.

***

The next morning, Severus awoke to find the room in exactly the same condition in which he left it. His mood, however, had all but improved - he had a pounding headache and he felt like blasting the next creature to cross his path into the depths of the lake. He stalked into the kitchen for a morning cup of tea.

There was no tea.

Oh, sod it all! All I want right now is some bloody tea and I threw it all out!

He pounded his head softly and repeatedly against the mahogany cupboard.

So, what did I say? It's coffee for me from now on, I suppose.

He belatedly realized that he had no idea how to use a coffee maker.

Get over it, Snivellus, you're a wizard! Does that mean anything to you? Does your wand actually serve a purpose?

Around ten o'clock that morning, in the middle of Double Potions with the fifth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins, Severus lamented his woeful inadequacy at conjuring food.

All of a sudden, an ominous sploosh drew his attention from the scroll he was currently dissecting with red ink to one ginger-headed Gryffindor, Bilius Weasley's son, who had spent entirely too much time growing up with Fred and George. Severus blamed the Grim.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley, for tampering with other students' potions. You know fully well I have no patience for troublemakers, or have you been too busy cooking up schemes under that hideous carrot mop of yours to notice that I was speaking to YOU!"

Alarius Weasley snapped his head up at that last shout.

"I didn't do anything, Sir. It was Fishbeck that tossed it into Miss Giles's cauldron." His deadpan was so convincing that even McGonagall would have accepted it. Severus, however, knew better than to believe a Gryffindor, especially when the person in question was one of his own Slytherins.

"Mr. Fishbeck, would you care to enlighten me on what Mr. Weasley put in Miss Giles's potion?"

The class broke out in murmurs - taunts from the Slytherin side and outraged comments from the Gryffindors.

"Sir, Alarius didn't do anything! It was Fishbeck, and I'll swear it on my mother's - "

"Silence, Miss Greene. Forty points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn."

"But Sir, she always speaks out of turn and you've never taken points before..."

"Good point, Mr. Madley. A further forty points from Gryffindor for your previous offences, Miss Greene, and be grateful it isn't more!"

Gleeful at the outraged expressions of the Gryffindors, Fishbeck and the few students surrounding him smirked. That is, until Giles' potion, which had been confined to a large cauldron in the row ahead of them, burst free of its prison in a spectacular explosion. Most of the Slytherin half stood there, dripping in magenta potion.

"Go get cleaned up," Snape said with a flick of his hand. "That potion was useless. Perhaps you should thank Weasley over there. He's the one that spared you from a lifetime spent in miniature. Another ten points for the mess, then, Weasley."

Fishbeck glared at Weasley and Weasley at Snape, but none of them said a word. The Slytherins all filed over to the Gothic-looking stone sinks in the back of the classroom and began to wash up.

After inspecting his students to make sure none of them were burnt by the botched brew, the Potions Master dismissed them a full hour early and retreated to his quarters to stew in his pounding headache.

Time for some headache potion and tea, my longstanding after-class companions.

Severus, however, had just walked into his kitchen when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the headmistress' head floating in his fire.

"Minerva," he groaned.

"Severus, please join me in my office for a chat. I have much to discuss with you. Regarding a certain Mr. Weasley."

Great, I'm really in it this time - in for a full out telling-off by the Queen of Gryffindor Righteousness. I suppose she thinks ninety points is a little much for one lesson. And I'd bet anything she'll accuse me for unfairly favoring my Slytherins. Another day, another accusation of favoritism. I'd better take my tea now, otherwise I'll never be able to stand it.

...

Joyous. I have no more tea.

***

Severus stepped into Minerva's office and sat down silently on the chair before her desk. The whirring instruments of Dumbledore's time had been replaced with inane cat figurines, occasionally stretching for a second before sitting back down to nap.

How fitting that the aging Gryffindor Lioness would have an affinity for cats.

Assuming that the Headmistress had stepped out for a moment, Severus took the opportunity to indulge his curiosity. He picked up the silver-looking apple and proceeded to examine it.

It must be a prerequisite for applying for the Head position to be eccentric. She seems to have an affinity for Muggle kitchen objects. He sneered slightly. Hmm, a salt shaker, eh?

Turning it upside down, Severus discovered that it wasn't indeed salt - which he had suspected. At the sound of approaching footsteps, he withdrew a small empty phial from his robes and quickly scooped the silver sample into it. A few heartbeats later, Minerva McGonagall appeared in the doorway.

"Ah, Severus, you've finally arrived. Would you care for some tea?"

"I don't think I would. What is this business with Mr. Weasley about which you wanted to speak?"

"Professor Weasley has had a letter from home. Apparently Arthur's taken seriously ill, and Bill had to go back to the Burrow to help his mother. Will you take his classes?"

Severus groaned. Well, this is a lucky day for Alarius Weasley. He just saved Gryffindor about seventy points for not being the cause of a meeting with Minerva. However, for Bill Weasley... one-hundred fifty for giving me more work to do. And for making me meet with Minerva. I'll talk to him when he returns....

"I suppose I can't refuse your request. Although I do wonder, who will be substitute head of Gryffindor, Minerva? Surely you're too busy, and as there are no other Gryffindors on staff...."

"Alas, Professor Granger, who is a Gryffindor and on the staff, is too young and stressed. I think I can manage myself. I only held that position for forty years myself." Her lips gave a twitch. "And if I can't manage it, Miss Shahinian can. Lucky for us we had both a Gryffindor Head Girl and Boy this year."

"Yes, how lucky."

"And while we're on the subject, I had a visit from Miss Granger the other day."

"Did you now."

"She's quite concerned about you, it seems. She says you're not yourself."

"Quite odd. I do seem to still be possessed of the same mind and body as ever, albeit a bit older than when I last thought about it."

The headmistress chuckled a little. Severus frowned at her.

"What exactly did your Miss Granger say, McGonagall?"

"Oh, nothing alarming, just that she remembered you as slightly more sarcastic from her school days. Perhaps you're losing your touch, Severus." She looked positively amused; she was definitely smiling, and her eyes glinted with glee.

"I suppose I shall merely have to meet with you every morning, and have you share some detestable news of the ilk of today's, and then I shall be in a bad enough mood to teach for the rest of the day."

"In all truthfulness, Severus, I think it'd do you some good to adopt a nicer persona. It'd certainly help you earn brownie points with the students. It's good to be respected, feared even, but not hated for being unfairly cruel and unfair in general."

Severus dreaded what she was going to say before she even said it.

"You know, Severus, I did notice that you took off ninety points from Gryffindor earlier. I hope Mr. Weasley the younger is not causing you trouble?" Here, another mirthful smile.

A miracle she's not bringing me to task on it. I'm her deputy, for crying out loud, not a junior professor needing constant guidance.

"As always, Minerva. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some work to do."

"Of course, I must let the busy man get back to his busy man life. I'll see you at Friday's staff meeting, if not before then."

"Goodbye, Professor."

***

Once satisfied that he was out of Minerva's sight and hearing ranges, Severus pulled out his phial. The silver powder twinkled in the torchlight. Hmm, probably a dehydrated potion of some sort. That sneaky old hag. I bet she's been poisoning me all along. Wouldn't put it past her. Not Veritaserum, that'd be white. Neither is it Calming Draught, which might be gray but definitely not silver. He racked his brain for any silver potions he might have given her. Well, it's probably not plant growth elixir, for her lagging philodendron. He began to scowl even more deeply as he realized what it probably was. The bitch! She's been spiking my tea with Revealing potion all along. And I thought she always had it with her because it had some special significance to her, like an anniversary gift from Albus or something. Of all things. He actually growled, frightening a pair of students who were snogging in a tapestry-hidden alcove. He whirled around and promptly deducted thirty points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff each, for behaving in an inappropriate manner.

I still must test it before making any accusations, naturally, but still. THE NERVE!

He retired to his rooms to think, have a cup of tea, and stew.

As soon as he opened the cupboards, he realized once more that there was no tea.

Just as well. It's probably spiked with Revealer, anyways.