Marauder crack

The possible and the impossible

He's always the first to get to Potions class. When the other students tell their stupid anecdotes in the corridors about summertime and waste their time showing each other photos, sightseeing as if they were Muggles - Severus rushes towards the class, anticipating the moment when he sits at his desk, the empty pot in front of the professor and his brand new Advanced Potions book open to the first page. This is the best time to be in the classroom. When there is no one. anyone that bothers him. He does think though it is the same that if it were full in a way because those useless ones of his course have so little talent that trying to make them understand something is a despicable waste of time. Nevertheless, when the classroom is empty, no one messes with him.

And he can choose the first desk, near the blackboard.

Or he could if when he arrives, the desk is not occupied by her. The dirty mudblood.

He hears him come in and she turns in her seat.

- Good morning, Severus.

Why does she greet him? It is evident that they are in different social classes and that they can never meet in the middle. He does not return the greeting, of course, but he advances towards that first row in which there is another free desk. Next to her. He tries to decide whether to sit down or not. He would be close to the teacher. He would be close to her.

He doesn't know what to do.

And his indecision is someone else's chance.

- Fly somewhere else, Quejicus.

Potter. He shoves him out of the way and rushes to the desk.

-Can I sit here?- He asks her.

- Since when do you want to sit in the front row?

- I cannot?

- It's a free country, Potter. The seat is not mine.

No, of course, it's not hers. Severus knows perfectly well whose seat it is. His own. He has always been his. In the front row. Always. And now, not only he doesn't have HIS place, but he ends up sitting in the third row. Behind Potter and the mudblood. Behind that merciless beast of Black and that half-breed werewolf. The deviants do not want to be separated. Sitting nothing more and nothing less than with Pettigrew, that vermin without personality. In a way, he is the worst of the four. Chasing them like it's his shadow, willing to kneel before anyone to get some popularity. Like a disgusting rat.

Once again that group of vermin takes away the place that corresponds to him as if he were nothing more than a cockroach that gets in their way. A nuisance that doesn't deserve his exquisite attention. During the whole class keeps an eye on them. He feels a chill of pleasure every time Potter tries to strut in front of her with some ridiculous Quidditch anecdote and all he gets is indifference from her.

It's is not bad. Knowing that the pretty girl at school can't get everything.

Knowing that she is also out of the omnipotent reach of him is an icy consolation.