A Fitting Beginning

Severus Snape hated Welcoming Feasts. He absolutely loathed them. If he could've, he would've found some way to excuse himself from it. However, after ten years of trying and failing, Snape gave up. Albus always saw right through his excuses, which was infuriating beyond all belief. So it was on that night that he found himself sitting in between the muttering moron Defense against the Dark Arts professor and the truly asinine Astronomy professor. He really couldn't see how either idiot had a job.

"Stop glaring at them, Severus," the twit to his right whispered.

Snape nearly found himself snarling back some choice words for Aurora Sinistra, aka asinine Astronomy professor. However, when he felt the twinkling blue eyes from his left side, he growled and bit his tongue. If he heard one more damn time from that man that he and Sinistra would make such a cute couple, the man then would be sporting some lovely curse marks, and Snape didn't care if the man was the Headmaster. Under no circumstances whatsoever would he ever allow that witch to jostle him about as if he was her lover. He'd sooner drink a bottle of Living Death than allow that to happen.

"Yes…yes…Severus, you…you…you mustn't glare," the moron on his immediate left stuttered.

"Drink your damn juice and leave me the hell alone, Quirrell, before I make you prove your skills in Defense," Snape growled under his breath. To say he was angry was a bit of an understatement. He instantly heard the huff of air from his right, which made him glare at Sinistra. However, she quickly glanced away. "Thank Merlin, you've finally come to your senses, Sinistra," he muttered.

"Bastard," Sinistra hissed under her breath.

Snape was just about to respond with a lovely epithets rendition of Dante's Inferno when Minerva McGonagall called the name of one of the first years. Snape's head instantly snapped towards the group of small dunderheads. His eyes then caught the familiar green eyes that he knew from his youth. Inside his mind, he quietly thought one name, Lily. He watched in utter fascination as the young first-year silently climbed the stool for the hat to sort him.

"GRYFFINDOR," the decrepit Sorting Hat exclaimed, a few seconds later.

"Damn," Snape muttered before taking a drink.

A/N: Thanks for sticking with me until the end. I'll let you take Snape's comment (either sarcastic or serious) in whatever way you want to take it. :)