Behind the Looking Glass

Behind the Looking Glass


By


PotionsMistress


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Resentments


It was fall, and as the colourful leaves scattered and danced across the ground in the cool wind, a new term was beginning. Everyone was highly excited, since the Dark Lord had went into hiding after being severely weakened and narrowly escaping defeat from the latest battle. The new year at Hogwarts certainly held much promise and hope for those who were convinced of Voldemort’s imminently impending fall from his seat of power.

The excitement was infectious to all but Severus Snape, who peered broodingly down at the approaching students from the darkened Astronomy Tower as they entered the gates to Hogwarts. He honestly did not like students, even though he loved teaching. He couldn’t stand the constant chatter for he had no patience for their blundering attempts. The only reason he taught and suffered through the masses of dunderheads each year, was in the hope of finding a student that was exceptionally gifted. Potions held a passion for him, but not the intriguing fascination the dark arts held. This was what he preferred to teach, but the Headmistress repeatedly denied his request to return as DADA instructor, as he had been denied many times before of the much-coveted position. That rude knowledge of knowing he could not return to it, left a very bitter taste in his mouth and rankled on his nerves.

Two years earlier, Fawkes had returned from his lonely sojourn after mourning Dumbledore. The majestic bird immediately flew to Azkaban, and straight to Snape, who had been captured along with many others, but Malfoy had escaped the hands of justice. The incidence was reported to and realized by the ministry that a Phoenix would only return to those that were true of heart. The Minister then declared Snape to be innocent and he was quickly released where he immediately joined in the fray on the front lines.
By the time Snape had taken his place in the front lines, Draco Malfoy was dead. It was firmly believed he had died in battle from wounds received from the Defenders. Snape was still alive because the vow was to protect Malfoy from harm at the hands of Voldemort only.

In the early part of the battles he had proven his loyalty to the Order where all could see, and had nearly died of his wounds in doing so; he was now at risk of being hunted down by any one of the few surviving Death Eaters who had managed to avoid capture. Since being wounded, his presence had been requested to return to Hogwarts by the Headmistress, and he resumed his humdrum role of Potions Master. He sincerely saw no reason why Minerva McGonagall came to the decision to reject his request in DADA. He made an even more sour face before reluctantly deciding it was time to join the others in the Great Hall for the sorting ceremony.

Along the way, he considered going through with his threat of taking an early retirement. McGonagall had argued him out of it at the time, but since after all these years he was still not allowed to advance his position and was now approaching the halfway point of what many considered middle-aged, the idea appealed to him more than ever to make this his final semester. Entering the Great Hall, he took his place at the head table, and sat listlessly as the first year students were sorted into their houses. He was beginning to detest that wretched sorting hat, just because its voice got on his nerves.

After all was said and done, and new faculty members were introduced followed by what he considered needless announcements, he rose from his chair – he couldn’t have cared less to listen to the latest rendition of the school song, and didn’t wish to remain to suffer through it.

He passed by what was considered by many, the ‘low-end’ of the table which was reserved for new instructors, and noticed the slight figure with a neatly trimmed moustache and collar-length sandy hair who had, only minutes earlier, been introduced as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Snape shot a sneer as he approached, but paused in his stride as August Hollingsworth turned startlingly blue eyes in his direction. His sneer even became more pronounced as jealousy immediately began to set in and gnaw at him. He instantly decided to find and take advantage of what this interloper’s weaknesses were. He figured there was no better way to pass the time while he waited for the semester to end and he could be rid of Hogwarts for good. The first thing he intended to do once leaving, was to find a sunny beach with as many willing, available, and scantily clad females upon it as possible.

Resuming his stride, he whisked past Hollingsworth in a billow of swirling black robes that left behind the odour of sandalwood and mysterious potion ingredients, and exited the door. Little did he know that the one he had decided to hate had watched him surreptitiously all the while, with more than just a passing interest.

August Hollingsworth gazed under hooded eyes at Snape. Flicking a tongue slightly to moisten dry lips, the startling blues eyes appreciated what they saw. They noticed a large, handsome man with hair and eyes the colour of the night, a severe countenance, sculpted lips and a bit of pudge that somehow managed fit his frame very well indeed. Of course as a youth, Hollingsworth had seen Snape many years before, and thought the weight gain was definitely an improvement. It made him even more enticing and tempting than ever, if such a thing was even possible.

Inhaling the scent left behind by Snape, Hollingsworth sighed wistfully, and knew caution would have to be of the utmost importance; it wouldn’t do to be caught slavering over Severus Snape. If discovered, the ramifications alone would be tremendous enough, and the vitally needed employment would end in a scandal — not to mention facing Snape’s wrath, for which he was noted for. It would be best just to continue to be content to admire from afar despite the one-sided affection that had been re-kindled just by the sight of him.

Rising from the chair, and wishing Flitwick, who had begun to engage in a conversation a good evening, Holly (the nickname had been given by contemporaries) roamed the dimly lit halls of the venerated institution and reminiscing upon days spent here as a student while wondering what had become of classmates long past. Most of the memories were pleasant enough, but there were those that still were very painful, and full of angst. The majority of those latter memories involved a very unreachable lithe and sensuous looking Snape.

Unable to please the Potions Master, detentions, extra essays, and ridicule became a regular occurrence. All the mistakes in potions wouldn’t have happened if Holly had been able to concentrate instead of becoming self-conscious and nervous because of the all the emotions compounded by the physical stirrings Snape had effortlessly and unknowingly caused by his mere presence. Now hopefully, with the maturity that came as one got older, those emotions and feelings would be controlled, and the savouring of being near Snape would be masked under a face of neutrality.

Arriving at the door that led to the small cramped chambers, which had previously belonged to predecessors, the exhausted professor entered and proceeded to the painful act of undressing. It took almost an eternity just to be presentable every morning since acquiring the title of DADA Instructor, and almost as long to reverse the process.

Skin itching; with painful red welts that rose immediately upon the release of layers of fabric, August Hollingsworth sank gratefully into the soft, welcoming mattress. As sleep slowly came, an exhausted sigh escaped those dry lips caused by nervousness, and the new teacher dreamed of a gentle and passionately ardent Snape. Holly had always highly suspected that Snape wielded an intimidating gruff exterior like a suite of amour to hide the sensitive man beneath it, and that it was nothing more that a mere façade.

Just as the new thorn in the Potion Master’s side was drifting off to sleep and enjoying rather erotic dreams involving a certain crabby professor, Snape sat brooding before a blazing fire with his hands steepled, index fingers pressed against his lips. He was thoroughly enjoying this brood, and it had been a while since he had someone to hold a grudge against besides Potter and his cohorts. It would have been perfect, but for the fact that something about this new usurper bothered him immensely. He could have sworn he felt Hollingsworth had been watching his every move, and that just did not meet with his approval, especially if the watcher was of a certain persuasion. If that were the case he would definitely deal with it in a most harsh manner, but if it was for other reasons, he certainly intended to find out why. Another thing that disturbed him, there was a feeling of familiarity that he could not pinpoint not just yet. It was almost like a feeling of Déjà vu.

Rising from his chair was made a bit more difficult lately, the chill evenings had begun to affect his battle scars and a deep-seated ache plagued his body. He filled a snifter with a healthy portion of brandy; he took a drink and felt comforting warmth fill him before he settled once more before the fire to resume his contemplation of how best to usurp the usurper.