Title: Helping Hand
Disclaimer: Own neither Buffy nor Harry Potter, and I don’t foresee that changing at any point in the near future.
Note: Something spawned in my brain when I read through a discussion on the forums, not quite sure of what it was, but it’s here nonetheless. The discussion was on the pairing Andrew/Snape… This isn’t quite a pairing story, though. More like a writing exercise after nearly three months of not writing a thing non-academic. Happy reading.
Severus Snape was not amused. Not the least bit.
Some of his pupils might quite possibly argue that that was a normal state for Hogwarts’ Potions Professor to be in. They would, quite possibly, be right.
His irritation this time didn’t come from the usual places, Potter, Granger, Weasleys, Gryffindors or pupils in general, though Snape frequently carried the belief that Hogwarts would be a much better place to be if there hadn’t been all those children around all the time.
No, this time Severus Snape’s mood came from those bloody Americans that Dumbledore had insisted would help them out in the fight against the Dark Lord. As if the Order of the Phoenix hadn’t done most of the groundwork already, the bloody Americans would come galloping in to, if not directly save the day, so at least hog the glory.
Granted, Potter could do with a little bit less fame, but the Americans were even less worthy of it than Potter.
All of them came to Hogwarts in the summer. Bickering and chattering on about inconsequential past, present and future.
He was quite sure that they were all very nice people, if he would only take the time to get to know them. Well, that happened to be the bumbling fool’s words. Severus Snape doubted that very much, personally. Not that he planned to make a go for it: he had been forced to sit next to a young woman called Rosenberg on their first breakfast there, and he had no intention whatsoever of repeating the dubious “pleasure.”
Miss Rosenberg, like all of them, wouldn’t stop talking. Talking about magic, talking about her friends, talking about… well, honestly he had shut her out before she got very far and instead focussed on mentally refining the procedure that he planned on further utilizing on the next potion.
Snape had completely retreated down to the quiet of the Dungeons. The house elves were bringing him his meals on trays, and generally being less offensive to a normal human being than the Americans.
It didn’t hurt that he had managed to get quite a bit of work done this summer, quite a bit of useful work, it always helped boost his morale.
“Uh, this is so cool.”
Someone dared to interrupt his precious silence and break his concentration? Had term begun yet? Had Potter returned early, though even Potter had sense enough to stay out of the Dungeons unless forced into them for something.
“May I help you?”
Fortunately it was neither Miss Rosenberg nor her, equally irritating, countrywoman, Miss Summers. This was one of the few of the American men who had arrived. He hadn’t heard this one speak, before, probably because it was deuced difficult to get a word in when Miss Summers and Miss Rosenberg got started.
“You’re Professor Snape? You’re like a hero, right? Redeeming yourself for the love of a beautiful woman?”
“I’m doing no such thing. Go away, whoever you are.”
“I’m Andrew Wells. I used to be evil, but then I got better. I’m working with the Slayer, and all the mini-slayers because I need to get my redemption.”
“Some of us are trying to get some work done.”
“Oh, I know. Professor Dumbledore said that I was to ask you if you needed any help.”
“Well, no. Not exactly. He just said that you were working on something. I interpreted the rest. I’m getting good at that. I’ve also got some experience in spells and things like that from when I was evil. So I thought I’d come and see if you needed some help. Why are you looking so mad?”