Snape, meet Snape.


A story about our favourite potions teacher meeting someone else's favourite Auror, Severus Snape. Extremely AU. Post Order of the Phoenix.

Please may I apologise for whatever misdemeanours I may play against the characters. I don't usually do Potter fiction, having moved onto original recently, and this is only to get a plot rat out of my head (like a plot bunny, but more annoying) so I might completely mess it up, or be writing something that is so Cliché that it's annoying, but please consider that I'm now to this, and that it is mostly written from Snape's point of view, Snape fan that I am.

Song which I dedicate this to - Warning signs by Coldplay. Especially later chapters.

People - J K Roling of course, Caraline because she's a bigger Potter fan than me, Tamsin for the same reason as well as she is the only person who I can force this on, every single Snape fan who showed me the way, and of course, our very own Severus Snape. I can't get enough of you baby!


It was the first day back at Hogwarts when it happened. It was during one of the first lessons of the first day, Snape's particular least favourite, one of the first year lessons. Not only did he feel degraded teaching first year potions, but very often the little numbskull's didn't understand the very basic's, making the lesson particularly tedious. This particular class, Slytherin and Gryffindor mixed, was a lot worse than he first hoped. Looking at the class he had hoped, prayed that at least one or two of them, even if they had to be in Gryffindor, could have even the slightest inclination for the Subject, but as Professor Snape often suspected, the devil had farted in his face and nearly every single pupil in his class was another Neville Longbottom.

Or so it seemed for the first half hour. Even this years Slytherin's seemed particularly dense, even though Snape would rather face a blast ended screwit than admit that to anyone. But as various acrid gas clouds started to blow around the room from the first year's Cauldrons, Snape had his mind on other things. Potter. Snape was loathed to say his first name; as to him the use of first names was only for friends and lovers, of which he had neither in his life. Potter would be in his NEWT class this year. Snape couldn't understand how that..... imbecile had managed to get an O (outstanding) grade in his OWL, but suspected it had a lot to do with Dumbledore. Snape couldn't refuse him, but he was prepared to show Potter that although he could skate through life on his scar and his father's reputation, Snape wouldn't allow that to affect his grades. Snape would like him to fail his NEWT's, even if it ruined Snape's reputation, just to spite the boy.

He wouldn't mind doing that to the new Defence against dark arts teacher either. He had only spoken to the man twice, and he already hated him. He was a shy man, not a man that could possibly have faced anything more dangerous than a house elf all of his life, but he had something that Snape lacked. A presence of quiet, calm reserve and a voice that could be heard over a dragon's roar, even when he whispered. He was the type of man who people *liked* even though Snape detested him. His name was Zyriel MacDuff, and in Snape's opinion deserved his stupid name. A stupid name for a stupid person.......

It was as he was musing this when the world decided that it wanted to change things. All of a sudden, just when Snape was least expecting it, everything made of glass shattered. It was the beakers and bottles first, so he though it was just a first year messing around.

HE leapt up from his desk and yelled, 'who did that! Tell me right now or you'll all be in detention until you're just finishing your NEWT's!'

First years panicked, afraid of him, screaming, yelling, shouting, 'It wasn't me sir! I didn't do it!'

Snape grew angrier. Didn't these half-wits know how dangerous this was? Breaking things was at this moment when all the things on the shelf started to blow up, one by one. Things Snape would rather not think about fell to the floor in a shower of broken glass and ancient putrid embalming fluids. He saw many of the female pupils scream in terror as dragon hearts and dead cockroaches fell to the floor, skidding all over the flagstones and lying their, rocking slowly as they were speared by the broken glass.

Snape, seething with unbridled fury shouted, 'Get out! Get out of my classroom! The miscreant responsible for this will pay dearly for this!' That was true. Most of the ingredients, now wasted, were extremely expensive and that person would have to pay to replace them, costing a cute knut to say the least. More like Gorgeous galleons.

It was at this point the window decided to explode, blowing in, breaking into tiny shards under the very pressure, almost liquidising before they hit the ground like small bombs. Snape, now more angry than words could every express screamed, 'GET OUT!'

The class needed no extra encouragement. Half screaming, half running they left, while Snape, reaching for his wand, went to leave himself. Only one pupil had stayed behind. A pretty little Slytherinth girl who had grabbed something around her necklace and had dropped to her knees, whispering something in a different language, something that Snape neither could, nor cared to understand.

He grabbed the small girl by the bandaged wrist and pulling her up shouted, 'Ysabelle Todd, Didn't I tell you to leave the classroom!'

The girl looked up at him with the sort of expression that could only be achieved by someone who knew no fear, or knew all fear. It was questioning confusing, the same expression she would wear if he had asked her to identify the difference between moonflowers and wolfsbane. Then, as if she only suddenly understood what he meant ran out of the classroom, quickly followed by Snape.

As he looked around the class he shouted, 'Well, who did this! Speak up!'

None of the class said anything. They were watching as one of the Gryffindor prefects (Hermione Granger to be precise) ran over to them and shouted, 'Professor Snape.....'

'Granger, I am dealing with this.......'

'No sir, it's happening everywhere, the windows and ceramics are blowing in everywhere sir and Dumbledore said that all the classes have to be taken to the Quidditch pitch sir.'

'But ....'

'The great hall's a disaster zone Professor.' And then, in Hermione Granger's usual manner she shouted, 'First years, please follow me!'

Snape, too wound up to care about Hermione's blatant disregard for his authority, followed the class out. All of them were chatting together, talking and shouting, except one. The little girl who'd stayed behind. She walked about a foot behind them, almost as if she was trying to keep pace with him, every so often looking at him in the most irritating manner, as if she didn't really want to be here. Snape ignored her and as the various classes assembled on the field he began to assess the damage. He hoped dearly that Potter might have a few shards of glass embedded in his fat head, as it might possibly make him less arrogant, but to his serious disappointment Potter seemed alive and well, chatting away to his friends.

'Severus?' he heard. He swished around. It was Dumbledore.

'Yes sir?' he answered.

'Severus, apparently the cause of this disturbance has fallen in the lake and I will need your assistance to help me get it out.' He said coolly.

'If someone's bough something from the Weasly's....' hissed Snape under his breath was he followed a selection of teachers out to the lake.

He was the first to see the thing in the lake, kicking and struggling to breath, shouting something in a language that not one person could understand. As the man shouted and trod the icy waters, the giant squid in the lake came up, and almost swallowed the man, before he grabbed his wand and shouted, 'Diffino!'

The squid was blown back, and this gave the man enough time to hold his wand steady and shouted 'Impedimenta!'

The squid, as if all it's tentacles had suddenly been tied together, fell into the water, emitting a piercing wail. The man, exhausted, tried to swim, but failed miserably.

'Oh Dammit!' exclaimed the new Defence against Dark arts teacher, and throwing off his cloak dived into the water heroically. Snape rolled his eyes. It was all he could do to stop himself from shouting at him about being so bloody heroic.

The new Teacher swam out to the man, and grabbed the man who was practically in a faint. They heard the stranger screaming something in his language, something like, 'myheiri chei heini eav á?' and 'myheui chei heini eri yui?'

'Come on....' Snape heard MacDuff exclaim, 'we're nearly there!'

The man in his arms began to gibber and rant in his own language, unable to comprehend what was going on. As MacDuff, dripping wet, pulled the man onto the bank Dumbledore jumped in front of Snape and asked the man who lay panting and gasping for breath on the bank, 'where are you from?'

Snape heard the gasps and the whispers before he saw the man. He heard McGonagall whisper, 'He looks just like.....' and Professor Flitwick exclaim, 'the spitting image. Even the new teacher, Zyriel MacDuff swallowed as he said, 'haven't seen anything like this since I came to England....'

Snape, unable to bear the suspense pushed pass MacDuff and looking at the man almost swore, and fell back into Dumbledore, unable to control himself.

The man in front of him lye in the ground, choking, coughing and babbling in his own language like a drugged, drowned rat, his long black trench coat and red and green scarf which was absurdly long weighed down with mud and dirty water, boots that had once been brand new were splattered with various substances which no-one wanted to know what they were. This had not shocked him within the first few milli seconds of viewing. What had shocked him was the face.

That face, the face with the hooked nose and black eyes. The face would have been so familiar if it hadn't been for the animalist expression on the face. There was the typical sneer that Snape knew so well on that face, the face the small pallid hue as his own. The face he had seen in the mirror all his life.

'What is your name?' Ordered Dumbledore.

The man stared back into his face, and with Snape voice said, 'I am..Severus....Snape.' He spoke as if he had forgotten the words, and as if the very act of trying to speak brought him pain, panting and gasping for breath between each word. 'Order.....of.......Merlin.....First.....class....'He looked slowly into Snape's face, and letting his face coil into almost the same expression, fainted.