AN: One-shot for now (title is aspirational), un-beta-d, not brit-picked. Might rework later.

Disclaimer: World/characters/history/etc/ is JKR's Harry Potter verse. The writing is my own (if I knowingly borrow specific passages from canon or any other published works these will be indicated). I am making no profit from this work. I have published this work only under the ValkSkadi account on . This disclaimer also pertains to any future chapters published here under this title.

Title: 17 Years of Teaching

Summary: Snape never particularly liked teaching. Then again, this wasn't entirely without reason. First impressions, as they say, die hard. Chapter 1: Sep 2 1981, Snape's first breakfast as a newly minted Hogwarts professor.

September 2st 1981

Day 1, Year 1

"Wait, isn't that…?"

"It is. My sister was in his year. Total creep apparently. Followed that head girl around. What was her name again. Evans?"

"Can't be, she was only 4 years ahead of us. No way they'd hire someone so young."

"That's definitely him, though. I made chaser that year. Last year we had Potter on the team. Real shame it was when he graduated, too."

"Honestly, Pritchett, how are your quidditch woes relevant to this?"

"Well, that's what I was just saying. Potter and his friends hated him. Had a good laugh about him every now and again, too. But honestly, who can blame them, that hair and nose are just asking for it."

"Ugh, you're right. Does he ever wash it, do you think?"

Some giggling. Snape gritted his teeth. Ignore them. They don't matter. You're doing this for Lily. How the huddle of Gryffindors thought he couldn't hear them, he would never know. Surely they didn't think that the modest breakfast noises from the as yet mostly empty hall would cover their whispered gossip. Then again, a quick glance told him that the other Professor's seemed totally oblivious of the whispered insults, either due to progressive deafness from their age or perhaps from a student gossip noise filter developed after several years or decades of teaching. If it was the latter, Snape sincerely hoped that developing such a filter would take years rather than decades. Though how anyone could afford a gossip filter in times like these was beyond him.

"Must be him then. How old does that make him?"

"I dunno, 20? 21?"

A derisive snort.

"Fat chance he'll have any control over his classes then. Potions should be fun this year."

The pigtailed girl who'd apparently had a sister in Snapes year leaned back into the huddle.

"I wouldn't test him. He was part of that group. Remember Lestrange who graduated 2 years ago?"

Snape couldn't help the small thrill of power he felt at the fearful silence that, thank Merlin and Morgana, finally caused the little gossip circle to shut their idiot gobs for a few blessed moments. Not for long though, as Potter's little quidditch lackey pipped up again.

"Dumbledore wouldn't hire a Death Eater."

Snape bit down on his instinctive urge to roll his eyes. He himself was proof that Dumbledore would hire anyone, as long as the old wizard thought he could control them. That ruled out just about nobody, not even the Dark Lord. Snape glanced down at his left arm to ensure that the line of buttons held his jacket shut close over his arm. As he did do he was distantly interested to hear the venom that dripped from the next student's barely whispered words.

"Dumbledore had better not have. They killed my dad and grandparents just for being muggle. Only reason mother let me back this year was cause Hogwarts was meant to be safe under Dumbledore."

"Not so loud!"

Two of the girls who'd been giggling earlier shushed the boy as Snape glanced up, keeping his expression detached and bored, as though it was just a coincidence that led him to meet the hate-filled gaze of a Gryffindor 6th or 7th year. Slight build, sandy hair, blue eyes narrowed in a glare under a thick brow. No chord of familiarity struck Snape, which might have struck him as odd. After all, he had attended the same school as the boy for probably two or three years, and there was a non-zero chance that he'd been involved in the raid that led to his family's deaths. Then again, unless you were a prefect or on the quidditch team, the older Hogwarts students rarely had reason to pay attention to anyone more than two or three years below them. Even the prefects only really knew the first and second years of their own house by name.

As for the other possible connection, Snape's potions skills had kept him out of most raids, throwing him rather into a sort of pseudo-healer and potions experimentalist role. After his Death Eater connections had sponsored his potions mastery they were loath to waste him on the frontlines all too often. With the war ramping up to a point where the Dark Lord himself was getting involved in the fighting, Snape was increasingly demanded to develop potions to lower the Death Eater's inhibitions, to increase magical power, and to test blood purity. Not to mention brewing enough blood replenisher and wakefulness potions to kit out most of the Death Eaters and build up a supply that could last them several years at this point. If not for his work on the more experimental potions, Snape might have worried that they were just planning to use him as spellfire fodder once he'd built up the supply long enough to last them a decade or so.

As it was, they only "brought him out to play" occasionally, likely to test his dedication to the cause. The raids weren't enjoyable to him by any means, but all he had to do was imagine his father's face, or the faces of those who seemed to enjoy the muggle incursion on wizarding life – a certain sneering face under wild black hair and sat above muggle rock band t-shirts often came to mind – and the killing became almost easy. It was so quick and clinical. One flash of green light, and a slumped body, followed by a heady rush of power and adrenaline that could easily become addictive.

If he was honest, he was sometimes sceptical as to whether the raids were really such a good proof of dedication to the cause. Developing blood purity tests and the political efforts some other Death Eater's made seemed so much more relevant, whereas the raids seemed more like a way to get their Friday evening power high. Bellatrix certainly didn't seem to care whether the bodies she played with were muggle or magical, only that someone had decided that no rules applied to a certain group, giving her free rein to let out her darker tendencies on them. Then again, it did seem that fewer muggle t-shirts were seen in the wizarding world lately, with more people adhering to the grand old wizarding style.

The boy still glaring at Snape was an exception, with muggle blue jeans defiantly peeking out under the hem of his robes. Snape's lip curled with disdain and he raised a sardonic eyebrow at the boy, who quickly redirected his glare back down to his plate.

Snape smirked. The group seemed more muted for a while, concentrating on their food or scribbling down some lines last minute for what were presumably their summer assignments. It was only shortly before they left that conversation picked up again, and Snape's attention snapped to at the sound of a hated name.

"Potter called him again?"

It was the sandy-haired boy, leaning over to the larger, more muscled boy who was presumably Pritchett, the Gryffindor chaser.

"Snape? Oh. They called him Snivellus."

"Well then. Professor Snivellus it is."

A cold hand clenched over Snape's heart, and he swore to himself to give Gryffindor no points this year.