Author's Note: I don't own anything...certainly not Harry Potter or related characters, books, movies, toys, lego blocks, etc. Just a one-shot (short) ficcy on Professor Snape. I hope people like it.
He sat in his office alone and took a long sip from the golden goblet. He savored the sweet bitterness of the red wine while staring at the fire that was dancing inside a bell jar on top of his desk. He sighed, it had been a particularly long day. Not only did Longbottom managed to set his cauldron on fire, he also melted the table, chair, and a nice decent-sized hole on the floor. The class had to be canceled because it took him the entire afternoon and the better part of the evening to undo whatever that silly boy did. Honestly, what was the boy thinking? Adding crushed porcupine quills to the asphodel. That boy should not be allowed within a meter of a cauldron.
He took another sip of wine and turned his attention to the stack of parchment sitting innocently on his desk. He stared at it in disgust, just thinking about the essays he would soon have to grade was enough to drive him to drink. Was it him, or where his students getting stupider with each and every single term? Why hadn't any of the other professors noticed? He sat and brood over his drink, about his profession, his students, Hogwarts, and his life in general.
Severus Snape was not known to be a reflective man. He lived his life to the fullest and tried not to regret past deeds that were done and over with. But often, in the middle of the night when the castle sat silent, he wondered what he was doing here at Hogwarts. He put his drink down and gathered the essays. He really should start grading them—least of all Miss Granger should pester him tomorrow over her grades. He sat the essays down and was about to get his grading quill when he simply stopped. His heart just wasn't in it.
Professor S. Snape, Potion Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
He stared at the small plaque that was on top of his desk.
Shortly after the first fall of the Dark Lord, Albus Dumbledore offered him a teaching position at Hogwarts as the new Potion Master. Being branded (how ever unjustly) as a traitor made finding a suitable job nearly impossible. Of course, he had wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, but Dumbledore thought it was best for him to teach Potion—not because he didn't think Snape was incapable of doing so. But because it would be suspicious that a former traitor, a former Death Eater, should teach Defense Against the Dark Arts instead of just simply Dark Arts. No, according to Dumbledore, it would be best if he started off as the Potion Master.
He leaned back in his chair, memories flooding in. During the Great War, he was Dumbledore's spy. He had joined the Death Eaters due to Lucius Malfoy's persistent persuasion. It was one of those few choices he had made in his life that he regretted. But, he made the most of it, serving as a spy for the Order after he approached the wise wizard with his folly. He had helped brought down the Dark Lord once. Pity he wouldn't be recognized for his bravery. He looked at the plaque and gave a haute sniffed. It should be stating Severus Snape—Order of Merlin, First Class. Of course, he wanted to come forward and be justly rewarded, but Dumbledore stopped him.
"When he comes back Severus, and he will, we will need you."
He turned away from the silly plaque. He was a spy again. He focused his attention towards the flames inside the bell jar. He would help bring down the Dark Lord again—he would not fail.
He glanced at the essays that were still sitting on his desk—ungraded. He let out a frustrated sigh. Damn those students for their inability to understand the fine art of potion brewing...well, maybe except Miss Granger, Gryffindor's Miss-Know-It-All. He picked up his quill, but instead of grading the essays, he pulled out from his desk an old mahogany box that was magicked to prevent others from prying. With a wave of his wand, the box opened and inside laid an old piece of parchment. He picked it up.
The Last Will and Testimony of Severus Snape....
He was not a fatalistic kind of man. No, he just wanted to be prepared. Just in case.
He signed the old document again, quickly dating it so it was still valid, and then he put it away without giving it any more thoughts.
With a renewed sense of duty, he picked up the stack of parchment and started grading the essays.