Severus slid his hand down across his face, sighing softly, and cursing the brats that stalked the halls of the wretched school. None of them, excluding his Snakes, could seem to manage anything better then scribbles leading across their pages. If not for his years of practice at deciphering the awful print he would have just failed their essays for being such… horrible penmanship. He likely would have gotten fired for that, or at least suspended for a couple months—for which he would have been more than grateful—if not for the Headmaster, who held his love for Lily and his promise to her over his head.

Constantly.

It sickened Severus to the point of wanting to kill the man, even the Dark Lord himself would not hold such a thing over someone’s head, he’d simply kill the person… a much more merciful punishment than being a slave to an insufferable fool who refused to see beyond his own half-moon glasses.

By breakfast time Severus was nearly done grading the essays (thanks to running into a large number written by his Snakes who had learned very quickly that neatness counted). With only three left to complete, he felt he deserved a break. Today, he decided, he would eat in his quarters. Professors were only obliged to spend two meals—praise Merlin—a day in the great hall. Severus thought he might be able to bear eating lunch and supper in the same room as all the brats today—if a reasonable number of Gryffindors were absent.

He called a house elf, ordered a light breakfast to be delivered to his office, and then looked back down at the essay that sat atop the pile. Potters. Oh, joy.

He examined the boy’s chicken scratch excuse for writing and groaned.

If the boy had cheated by letting Granger write it, Severus thought, I’d have only taken away half the grade. But no, he must think enough of himself to scribble out an essay in the worst possible hand writing I have ever had the misfortune to see.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as a headache develop. This would take a while.

But… it didn’t. Had he really become so used to Potter’s writing that he could read it that well? And much to his surprise, Lily’s son had managed to get it right; everything. The work that lay before him was equivalent to what he expected from his 6th year Snakes, not a imbecilic 2nd year Lion. Severus shook his head, astounded. He was tempted to give the boy his usual P, but he dared not mark it lower because he hated the boy. No… he wouldn’t sink to Minerva’s level. He marked the essay—an O—and then sat back to think. Surely the boy didn’t get his brains from Potter, and Lily had been studious but she was so intelligent that she could do work higher than her year required. Maybe it was just… amplified through the generations. Yes that was it, because there was no way he could be… no, he had counted… and she had said… No!... he wasn’t!… what if he…

What if he was Harry’s father?

z88;

Severus swept into his classroom, and instantly everyone and everything went silent. No one dared to risk his glare and vitriolic tongue. He turned when he reached the front and surveyed his Snakes, all sitting on the left side of the classroom, the separation from Minerva’s Lions delineated perfectly down the centre of the classroom room. He allowed himself a hint of a grin, just a twitch of his lips, the behaviour of the rival Houses was… amusing?

He pointed his wand at the board and his writing from the previous night appeared, as if being written again in his exact scrawl, so much like Har- No, no thinking of that here!

“Begin,” he ordered, and began walking through the aisles. He’d never been one to stay still and seemed to be everywhere at once. His apparent omniscience in the classroom terrified even his Snakes at times.

“Neville, you’re doing it wr-”

“Talking! Potter, do you want another detention?” Seeing the boy’s expression tighten sharply, oddly enough, didn’t give him the satisfaction as it usually would, even as Draco (and company) and a majority of the Gryffindors sniggered.

“No, sir. Sorry, sir.”

Severus snorted and swept away to stand behind Draco and Gregory, close enough to eavesdrop, but far enough away no one could call him on it.

“Sorry, Harry.”

“Don’t be, it’s not your faul- don’t stir so fast!” Severus turned his head at the still taking boys, only slightly, as to not show he really heard, but so he could see them out of the corner of his eye. He was, dare he think it, impressed that the boy had caught Longbottom‘s mistake. “If you stir to fast it’ll fizz, and you do not want it to fizz, Neville.”

“What- what’ll happen?”

“BOOM!” The “Golden boy” said in a voice still surprisingly low, but enough to startle the Longbottom child. “Then, detention.”

“Right… don’t want that.”

“Slow down your stirring then!” Severus grinned, the side effects of stirring as fast as Longbottom had been would not have made an explosion as large as Harry said it would, it would merely make the noise—wait… What if that was what the boy had meant ?—Impossible! Severus snorted softly at even thinking such a thing, the boy might be able to copy into his own words what the text books said, but he certainly couldn’t apply his mock knowledge to reality.