|snarryswapmod (snarryswapmod) wrote in snarry_swap,|
@ 2009-01-13 12:00:00
|Entry tags:||asnowyowl, creation: fic, rated: nc-17|
Happy Daft Day, inoru_no_hoshi!
Title: Definition of Need
Warnings: Non-magic AU, teacher/student, Chan (15 years old), mention of SS/BW.
Prompt/Summary: Severus Snape lives a lonely life until he finds what it means to be needed.
A/N: Set in the United States. Non-magic AU. Wonderfully beta’d by bk7brokemybrain. inoru_no_hoshi, I didn’t use as many of your kinks as I would have liked, but I hope you enjoy the story.
Definition of Need
Severus closed the door on his last class of the day and sagged against it, massaging the back of his neck with one hand while flicking the door’s thumb lock with the other. Since no student ever sought him out for extra help, he felt not a twinge of guilt about locking his door during the after school Activity Period. Teenagers avoided him like he was the overbearing aunt with chin stubble.
Stepping away from the door, he wandered the room, picking up stray scraps of paper and pushing in chairs that were left haphazardly away from desks. When the student area of the room looked presentable enough to leave for the night janitors, he gathered the assignments from his rectangular in-tray and placed them neatly into a folder and then into his briefcase. Snapping the case closed he peered at the clock, disappointed that only five minutes had passed. His hard and fast rule was to wait a full ten minutes in case anyone knocked on his door for writing help. He wouldn’t want to turn away the next Hemingway or Bronte, after all. With a tired sigh, he lowered himself into his desk chair and closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, it was time he could leave.
Severus stood and straightened to his full height. He’d make his escape with dignity or not at all. Unfortunately, when he opened the classroom door, someone was waiting on the other side, fist raised to knock.
“Severus, I’m quite worried about a certain student.” Al strode in, pushing his broom in front of him, cleaning cart dragging behind.
Severus sighed and returned to his chair. He liked Al, he really did. After all, the man was the closest thing to a friend he had. But sometimes Severus tired of the old man’s interference. Turning his mind to Al’s statement, Severus tapped his lips with one finger, his brow creasing, wondering how a night janitor would see any student enough to formulate an opinion. “Pray tell, Al, what have you seen that concerns you?” And why would you bother me of all people with it?
Al shrugged and swept idly at the floor. “He seems too quiet, too alone.”
“Many teenagers are loners, at least for a while.”
“Yes, that’s true enough, but this boy seems to have no friends. I think he’s sad and lonely.”
Finally, Severus asked the question he’d avoided moments ago. “So why are you telling me this, Al? There are other teachers better equipped to deal with students’ problems.”
The old man shook his head. “No. I don’t think so, Severus. Not in this case, anyway. The boy reminds me a bit of you, actually. That’s why I thought you might offer the best help.”
“What? Is he an ugly, unsociable,” Severus glanced toward the door and then lowered his voice, “bastard?”
Al chuckled. “No. But neither are you.” He propped the broom against his cart and sat heavily in one of the student chairs. “Maybe this is the one, Severus.”
Severus groaned. “Not again, Al. How many times have I asked you not to poke your nose into my business?”
“If you didn’t want my help, you wouldn’t have told me of your hopes, my boy.”
Severus snorted. “I have no hopes left.”
“I think you do, you just don’t want to admit it. You still hope to mentor some talented young writer. You still dream of pushing someone to heights you couldn’t reach. You want to be needed.” Al arched an eyebrow as if challenging Severus to argue.
“Those who can’t, teach, eh?” Severus mumbled. “But that dream died years ago, Albus, killed off by teenagers who tossed my offers of help back in my face. Murdered by watching my suggestions balled up and thrown in the trash. Literally.”
“I think this boy’s different.”
Severus shook his head. If he wanted to get home tonight, he’d have to play along. Al would tell him which no-talent brat he was worried about. Severus would inform Al that the child was, indeed, a no-talent brat and the conversation would be over. “Fine. We’ll do this your way. If the child has any writing talent I shall try to help him. But Lord knows, there are shockingly few in this school who would qualify. So, who is it?”
Al’s smile reached his eyes, which twinkled brightly. “A sophomore. I think you have in him in your creative writing class. Harry Potter.”
Well, damn. Leave it to old Al to hit on the one student who was talented enough for Severus to consider mentoring. The gangly boy always sat in the middle of his classroom, surrounded by other students, but never interacting with them. His oversized clothes, quiet demeanor, and ugly glasses only served to alienate him from his peers. Severus sighed and nodded. “Yes, well, Potter does show some skill in writing. I’ll see what I can do, but don’t look for miracles.”