BRAVE / INFAMY

I couldn’t possibly agree more. Seriously, Saturn is a saint and their Snape is always on point. I have said it before and I will say it again - Snape lived and took up writing RP as some kind of elaborate ruse under the pen name Saturn. It’s the only explanation for how amazing they are. 

Had Severus Snape yelled these words at Gellert during the other one’s reign of power, it would have earned him a sharp blast of magic straight in the guts, followed by a humiliating lecture on prejudice and assumption, before he would have been left in the dirt like a second-class citizen.

Nowadays however Gellert’s only reaction to Snape’s temper tarantum was a twitch of his lips and brows. Should he laugh, snort or roll his eyes? He felt like he wanted to do all three things at once, however he decided against it. Albus had the situation perfectly under control and turned Snape’s outrage into a shallow wind like air dwindling from a poked balloon.

Gellert looked Snape dead in the eye. His own gaze, as contradictory as night and day, was warmer this time. The stars shone in the night and the frosty sky was clear. Gellert said: “I presume you are the potion professor, Albus mentioned. Well, you may be right in one thing.” He bopped his head in a bow like a preformer after a trick. “I am indeed Gellert Grindelwald.”

“Though outside of you and the Headmaster, nobody needs to know that. All they have to know that Professor Gabriel Grimmwood is now a member of the Hogwart’s staff and teaches Defence Against The Dark Arts. Also I would like to clear up a misconception: I am neither a bloodpuritist nor a psychopath. I rather label myself as an equalitist with strong passion.”

He shrugged. “Though if you feel the urge to japordise my work here, feel free to do so. Just know that I am working on Albus’ behalf here. Besides, do you honestly think people will believe you a twenty-seven year old is a terrorist, who should know be around onehundred-and-something?”

There was an almost bemused triumph in his eyes, though he himself remained fairly calm. Gellert knew he likely had made himself an enemy in the school. Not something he was not used to. He seemed to have a knack for that. Now he could only hope Severus had realised he indeed meant no harm.

Snape clenched his jaw and held Grindelwald’s piercingly algid gaze with all the dignity he could muster after being shut down so dismissively by the headmaster; he would have to deal with the burn of his humiliation later, when he would return to the comforting chill of his dungeons for a good brood.

He nodded curtly at the dark wizard’s assumption. No need to add any flourish to the introduction: he was still the Potions Master, courtesy of this flashy prick who just sauntered in and took his post in one fell swoop. His eyes briefly travelled to the flawlessly placid visage of the Grand Architect, tempted to peer into that superior mind of his to get even a glimpse of his greater understanding - one that Snape himself was helplessly failing to grasp. 

Alliteration? Cute. “Very well, Professor Grimmwood.” Snape drawled after a beat, making sure his silky voice carried just a hint of his profound distaste, which told his undesirable colleague just what he thought of his ‘equalitist' drivel. “People here will believe stories that are far less credible, I assure you.” had Grindelwald even read the first five pages of the Daily Prophet? He wouldn’t even make it to the first section without questioning the fate of wizardkind. Evidently not. 

“However, while I am not in the habit of jeopardising another professor’s work--” not unless it involved exposing clear incompetence; “--you can rest assured I will not tolerate any inappropriate behaviour, Headmaster or not.” 

It was a compromise, albeit a begrudging one reached by the skin of his teeth as he fought his own temper like a wild dog. It had been troublesome to even force the words out of his mouth, which now held a bad taste. He didn’t like him. Well, Snape did not like anyone by default, as he made a habit of viewing everyone as an enemy - especially a formerly incarcerated, extremely dangerous dark wizard. But there was also something about this arrogant prick that got under his skin, and it made him feel uneasy.

The headmaster’s brilliant blue eyes gleamed as he observed the exchange in serene silence. A soft jingling signalled movement, and Dumbledore clapped his hands together delightfully.

“I’m glad to see we’e on the same page, since you two will be working together.” he informed without preambles and a rather pleasant smile shaping the bow of his lips, looking from one newly appointed professor to the other, who looked like he’d just swallowed hot tar. “I would very much like for you two to become better acquainted. You both have some invaluable skills that would complement each other. Severus--” he turned to Snape, who looked positively mutinous, with a small wink; “--would you kindly show professor Grimmwood his living quarters in the East Tower? I will see you at dinner in the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony, where you will be formally introduced. In the meantime, please settle in and make yourself at home.”

“I thought I was looking at a corpse here. It’d be a bad tactic, dropping a dead bat here and thinking I’d care.” Sirius commented, seemingly unaffected by the ugly glare directed at him. Not that Snape had any expression that didn’t seem incredibly jarring on his face, but that was another matter. 

The matter actually at hand, was that the man seemed to think Sirius’ house was open to him at any time, particularly on a day where Sirius had assumed he’d be alone, as there was no real Order business planned. Any meetings Dumbledore arranged, Sirius was at least informed about, in the old headmaster’s words to avoid unwelcome surprises and accidents. 

“Did your roof start leaking again, or are you joining the inferi nowadays and taking up half my table at dinnertime?” 

Truth be told, Black wasn’t entirely wrong: the living conditions in his home at Spinner’s End were far from ideal, when he had to accommodate Pettigrew as a housemate until further notice. 

Sometimes, had he not been confident of his own mind as an impenetrable fortress, he suspected the Dark Lord had purposely devised this as a rather exquisitely torturous form of punishment. 

He’d rather have crawled under a bridge and shacked up with the werewolves than have to suffer that rat’s hideous presence and risk inflicting all sorts of violent and horrifying torments on that worthless piece of filth. Many a times he’d daydreamed of finely carving the rat’s body into potions ingredients, and administering him his most agonising poisons. Unfortunately for him he did not have the luxury of giving into whatever urges the irrational part of his mind prompted, unlike some mangy mutts. 

But, much as he loathed to admit it, even Black’s fastidiously obnoxious presence was more bearable than Pettigrew’s.