Precarious (Severus Snape x Reader)

Chapter 1: Black Robes

"That must be my preceptor..."

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You awakened to a mouthful of orange kneazle fur. Pushing your blankets down to your waist, you reached up to remove her from your face.

"Brew, I thought we had discussed this," you chided.

She meowed quietly, and began to purr at the soft scratching behind her ears. Brew had lately made a nasty habit of bedding down on your head while you slept, despite the fact that her own pillow was placed mere inches from you.

"If you want to cuddle, then lay beside me. I have to breathe, you know."

You sleepily smiled at her, and she responded with nothing more than a long blink. You glanced up at the clock on the wall opposite you, squinting, then sighed in frustration. Witch or not, you still relied on contact lenses to function. You reluctantly extricated yourself from the warm confines of your bed and walked closer to the wall. A rush of disappointment overcame you when you realized that it's after ten o'clock. Reaching your arms above your head, you stretched, letting a few quiet grunts escape you.

"It's time to move, Brewskie."

A small pang of sadness hit you in the chest as you began to clean up for the day. This was the last time you would ever wake up in this apartment. You were leaving today; out of this flat, this country, and your comfort zone. You had decided to further your education and work toward your Masters in potions. You had obtained your Bachelors just two years prior, and had been teaching elementary potions at Ilvermorny here in America. Whilst teaching, you had been working on the didactic portion of the degree, which was conveniently delivered by owl, and sent back to the university completed. The practical portion, however, could not be done so easily.
You had to actually study under an established Potions Master for your practicum. At first, you didn't think this would be much of a problem. You had imagined that you'd find a Potions Master here, so you could continue to teach, but, much to your dismay, they weren't easy to come by.

Maybe that's why I was accepted into the program, you thought. I'm not skilled, Potions professions are just understaffed.

Pulling away from your self-deprecation, you proceeded to get dressed. You donned your undergarments, quickly dismissing the thought of hosiery for your own comfort. You briefly flipped through the outfits in your armoire, looking for a professional but flattering set. You decided on a straight black skirt, resting just above your knees, and a long sleeve, royal blue button down.

Once a Ravenclaw, always a Ravenclaw, you think. I'll be covered by my robes, anyway.

You smothered your insecurities, brushing through your hair and applying a miniscule amount of makeup. You donned your black robes and traveling cloak. With a deep breath, you shooed Brew off of your bed and reached for your trunk. Laying it open on the floor, you grabbed your wand from your nightstand and rubbed your thumb anxiously over what was left of an intricately carved leaf on the handle. A nervous habit.

You muttered a quiet reducio at your bed, then your nightstand, armoire, and bookshelf. After the largest items had been shrunk, you worked on the smaller ones, placing them into the trunk with precision. When your entire bedroom had been carefully stowed away, you added your kitchenware and bathroom utilities. You looked around your flat with another heavy sigh. Every bit of the last two years of your life had been packed into this trunk. You closed the lid gently and reached for the front pocket, withdrawing a worn letter. You confirmed your destination, and ensured for the hundredth time that you could safely apparate there. Placing the letter back into the pocket, you glanced at the kitchen counter where your key lied. You smiled, sad and excited at the same time, and gently placed Brew over your shoulder. Grasping your trunk in one hand and wand in the other, you apparated with a snap.