Unhappy Endings

10: A Good Cuppa

The day warranted, you decided, at least two cups of tea. Pouring the perfectly made pot into your thermos, you notice a good amount still left. I might as well bring some to my teaching neighbor... You thought. Try and get on his good side and whatnot.

It was rather early; six thirty when class began at eight thirty. But you wanted to set up your room even further and get a peek at your class roster. So, without further ado, you left your bedroom and bounced towards your classroom.

Covertly, you peered both ways in the hallway before opening the potion's classroom door. There was no need to take claim to this kind act in person; you figured Severus was no morning bird.

"Didn't that disgraced family of yours teach you to knock?" Severus's voice rasped.

You quickly turned white with surprise and some of the hot tea burnt your hand.

"Oh, I-I'm so sorry, sir!" You reverted back to pleasantries. "I intended to leave you this tea, but should you not want it, I will simply pour it out and return to my room."

"And why are you in your room so early in the morning?" His eyes narrowed.

"I was so excited, I wanted to get here early!" You awkwardly stood in front of the door.

With a sigh, he beckoned you over.

"Best not to waste things. Leave it on my desk." He rubbed his temples, as if vexed by your presence.

Quickly, you walked between the desks to the black-clad man, wondering if even that ridiculously small amount of caffeine in the tea would make a dent in his dour mood. Severus slouched in his creaky leather chair, appearing for the entire world like someone who belonged in the holding cells rather than minding the room.

It frightened you, his despondency, and you had not a clue what the cause might be. Granted, he had never been the cheerful sort, but the man had always possessed a sardonic if dark sense of humor and an inner fortitude that seemed to weather any crisis. But lately, he seemed distracted. You knew better than to push; Severus was precisely the type to cut off his nose to spite his face. He wouldn't speak to you about what was wrong, and there wasn't a damn thing you could do about it other than try to wait it out.

You had just come out of schooling to be a teacher, what did you know?

The first year of the schooling had been quite... rocky. Matters had not been helped by the fact that Dora had left and your friends from Hogwarts had moved on to many different avenues.

Frankly, Dumbledore was the only reason that you had come on. There had been other job offers, most recently a dream position curating the dark artefacts and tomes of the Magical British Library. But resigning would leave Dumbledore high and dry; the thought of what he had described to you was downright terrifying.