home (reader at hogwarts)

thirty eight

"i will take attendance and you will remain silent save to say 'here, sir' when i call out your name." severus drones, sounding bored.

he made his way to the teacher's pedestal at the front and tapped the end of his wand against a scroll which unravelled and lay flat against the wood surface. severus picked up a quill, black just like his entire ensemble and started down the list of names.

you hadn't seen severus looks so cold, so closed off since the first time you met him.

as he went down the list he paused at yours. "y/n snape."

you hear the creak of benches as people craned their heads to look at you and you feel a hundred times more nervous.

"here, sir." you say, quickly.

severus moves on to the next name, this time looking at the seat behind you.

"ah, harry potter. our new celebrity." severus snarls and theodore grins beside you.

you nudge his elbow.

"you are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potions making." he begins. severus speaks in barely more than a whisper but everyone caught every word- much like minnie, severus has the gift of keeping a class silent with minimal effort.

"as there is little foolish wand waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. i don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with it shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses-"

severus goes on, his passion and devotion for potion evident in the way he snakes around the topic, like a predator describing the beauty of its prey before pouncing on it and claiming it as his and his only.

that's funny, you think, you thought you remember severus being more interested in defence against the dark arts than potions.

severus' eyes scan the classroom, bearing into every face.

"i can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as i usually have to teach."

harry mutters something quickly to ron. something that from your seat sounded like 'woah'.

"potter!" severus suddenly calls out. you knew what this was. this was him, being snape. the snape you read about.

"what would i get if i added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" he tests.

harry looks up at you for a second, as you have your head turned and you hear theodore let out a short snigger as hermione's hand shoots up into the air.

"i don't know, sir." harry says, quietly.

severus' lips curl into a sneer. oh, he is enjoying this far too much. but, when should you step in? would he give you a signal? or did he trust you to make your own move?

"clearly fame isn't everything." severus comments. you can see malfoy's face past ron's head, and he's practically jeering.

"where would you look if i told you to find me a bezoar?"

"i don't know sir." harry repeats. his face is getting pink now and hermione looks as though she might fall off of her seat.

"didn't think to open a book before coming, eh potter?" severus snarls. harry stays silent.

"what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" he asks yet another question.

"i don't know." harry says, tiredly. "i think hermione does though, why don't you try her?"

hermione was stood up, her hand stretched high.

"sit down." snape snapped at her, agitated at the slightly laughter that broke out in the classroom.

"y/n." he suddenly says, moving to your desk. you feel theodore edge away nervously. "the answers, my dear."

"asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so strong it is known as the draught of living death. a bezoar is a stone found in the stomach of a goat and will save you from most poisons. as for monkshood and wolfsbane they are the same plant, which also goes by the name aconite."

you're amazed that you've remembered all of that. spinners end was full of potion books- it was the only thing severus would let you read.

"well," severus calls out, his voice loud and irritated. "why aren't you all copying that down?"

there is a rummaging for quills and parchment and over the noise you hear severus speak to you, or to the gryffindors specifically.

"a point will be taken from your house, dear gryffindors for your classmates cheek."

severus puts a list of instructions and materials needed for the starting lesson on the blackboard.

"i'll get the ingredients, you set up the cauldron." theodore tells you and you feel relived.

horned slugs and snake fangs weren't exactly something you wanted to go and collect.

you look at severus, calling to him with your mind.

oi!

he glances up and finds you staring at him. the shock on his face is amusing.

what? do your work!

you were very harsh.

he's a brat.

he's a child! you scold. and so am i! how'd you feel if i didn't know something and someone talked to me like that?

don't get smart with me and don't mess up your potion. we've made this one before.

have we?

look at the board. tell me what it is.

a- you look down the list of ingredients. a cure for boils?

exactly. come here. write it at the top of the board.

tell me to.

what?

tell me to do it out loud. people will find it weird if i just walk over there and do it myself.

do i have to-

yes! now, sev!

"y/n. come here and write the potions name at the top of the black board." severus commands you.

you stand, leaving your set-up cauldron and walking to the front of the room.

people watch you walk past, looking you up and down. you wonder if maybe they think you didn't look enough like your father.

you scribble 'hark's cure for boils' at the top, stepping on a stool to reach and as you step down- the chalk slips from your hand and breaks on the ground.

the class is silent.

waiting for severus' reaction.

"that's okay." he says quietly, holding a hand by your waist to move you along- "back to your seat now."

you nod, walking away.

as you sit back down you watch severus levitate the broken halves or chalk and fix them together with a verbal incantation.

"he's so nice to you." theo says, sounding flabbergasted. "he's- he's-"

"my dad." you laugh. "yeah, he's nice to me."

"favouritism." you hear ron mumble behind you.

"favouritism." you confirm.