Madly, Deeply (Snape × Male Reader)

I

It is as I clamber through the waterlogged slush of the Forbidden Forest, I think, thick mud clinging to my trousers, that there is another way to go about this. The skies have long since dulled from being light, and the birds have since ceased their singing - around me, the chattering buzz of life hums through the dense foliage of the landscape, and each pathway, each direction I turn my head, seems to look the same.

From the ground and from the trees I scour the ingredients I'll be needing for my brew; I carry a leather satchel around my waist, and in the bag at my back, several flasks and containment tubes.

It wasn't all that long ago that I sent off my application form for Hogwarts. I've been informed that I should be starting in a few days from now. Still, as I trek the dark forest, my focus lies on the potion that will occupy my cauldron when the morning comes.

***

The halls are dim, lit only with the flame that burns from the candles above. The Great Hall is packed full of students this time of day; the starting first years anxiously chattering amongst each other.

At the end of the hall stands a great podium, decorated with the markings of a large, metallic owl with majestic wings spread as the headmaster stands, wand to his throat in order to project his voice better across the masses.

Up besides him stands an older woman: thin and elegant in the way that she poises herself to speak. Albus seats himself shortly, and the woman, dressed in a deep shade of greens and golds, begins to speak. "I would like to take a moment to welcome the first years that will be joining us, today, and those that have sat in this hall many a time, before. It is a great privilege to teach at a school such as Hogwarts." Her voice rings out across the vast space. She addresses the first years directly. "I'm sure the majority of you will be deathly eager to know what house you are sorted into."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," the headmaster speaks, wise smile decorating his features as he takes his place at the podium once more. His gaze follows around to the table behind him, where the teaching staff and Head of Houses are seated patiently, some with goblets at their steady hands. "I think a bit of an introduction is in order, as I'm sure many of you will have noticed that a new face graces our table."

It's true - as I glance about the Great Hall, it's difficult not to spot the amount of eyes that follow my every movement. To my left, a large hulk of a man, bearded and comparible to the likes of a haired beast. To my right, a smaller sort of man - spectacled and wearing a styled moustache that frames his face and figure. I spot a couple of third-years whispering.

The headmaster continues: "... and so, I take pleasure in introducing to you our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor L/n."

The hall quietens as each student diverts their attention in my direction. I can't help the shiver that creeps up my spine as I take my cue and stand. I give a courteous bow, and resume my seated position at the staff table, once more. The hulk of a man to my left turns to me then, and with an affectionate pat to the back offers me a warm and jolly smile, "Congratulations on gettin' into Hogwarts!"

I find that his smile is infectious as I offer one back. "Thank you, sir-" I outstretch a hand- "Y/n L/n."

"Rubeus Hagrid-" he closes in for the handshake, firm grip clasping at my hand- "pleasure to make yer' acquaintance."

The older woman is seen to stand at the podium once more, and out she pulls a large, brown hat. Everyone seems so occupied in the ceremony, but at the end of our table, my eyes stray from our friendly conversation to the robed figure that keeps to himself, figure almost totally enveloped if not for the slender arm that reaches out for his goblet.

The smaller gentleman to my right, of whom has by now introduced himself as Professor Flitwick, catches my gaze, but says nothing. So, I lean to his side, "Who's that, there?"

He turns to face me. "That? That's Professor Snape, head of Slytherin house, teaches Potions. Reliable, timely, doesn't take no for an answer."

I give a small nod at the professor's response, trying not to make it too obvious that I'm looking in his direction. The professor in question, Professor Snape, is quiet and calculated. When the feast begins and the bountiful food appears on our plates, he hardly eats a thing.