No Hiding Place
-foreword by Severus Snape

Tales and legends hold magic, which may not be as powerful as the magic of Potions, but powerful nevertheless. Like any properly written tale -- unlike most of the essays my pea brained students write -- this one follows the definition of a 'story'. It has a beginning, a middle and an ending, plot and character development.

This particular one has also quite a lot of drama, angst -- silly teenage angst and real -- and romance. Not that I think that the last part is important in the big picture.

If you really like reading about a sophisticated character like me and a complete idiot like Potter, you should know by now that we don't exactly love each other. So do not expect us to shag like bunnies during the first paragraph or seventeen. I have standards. I would never shag a nauseating twerp like Potter the Mighty. For me to suffer his presence -- not to mention the ever so popular idea of shagging --, I would have to see something more in him than a foolish child celebrity.

Yes. I know. Boggles the mind, doesn't it?

This story begins by describing our lives during Potter's seventh year, so it will deal with important things like his Potions classes. And less important things like his idiotic quest to stick his wand into other peoples' business.

As everyone knows, the Great War came upon us that year and both Potter and I played a big part in that. I will not lie to you. There will be parts that may disturb you. War is never nice. People are wounded. Tortured. Killed. That is the reality of war, and our lives are not just a part of a great fairytale.

Even though Potter and I are the main interest of this story, the people in our lives will be described here as well. Potter's idiot friends. My colleagues. Students. Since they were a big part of what happened that year, the youngest son of the Weasley brood and young Malfoy will have a substantial part in the narration.

I myself do not look forward to reading some of their escapades. There are things one does not wish to know about one's students! Potter wants me to say something nice about his godfather, who will also have a part in the story. I choose not to. There are such things as impossibilities, and for me to say anything 'nice' about that mutt -- or anyone else really -- is one of them.

Unfortunately, due to the curiosity of the author (who has obviously no understanding of such things as discretion or confidentiality) this story will also invade my privacy. I should say on record that I do not condone such an action. I am a very private man.

However, since I have heard rumors that the appalling Skeeter woman is contemplating on writing our tale, I have agreed to allow Rimau to publish this. At least she has got the details right. I am certain certain other people -- glares at everyone who thinks that this whole mess is cute -- would try to twist the things that happened.

So if you appreciate a slowly brewing potion that will heat into a burning concoction which will make you feel nice and warm afterwards without leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, you might want to read this fic. If you have the ridiculous notion that I would ever allow my name to be used in a two pages long piece of utter rubbish with fabricated quotes like 'oh Potter you're so sexy', you should probably check in to St. Mungo's. They may even be able to cure your delusions.

glares even more

Read the story, then send an owl to the author. I'm sure that as an attention hungry Hufflepuff she will appreciate both praise and constructive critique. Do not disturb Potter or me, though. We do not answer to idiots.

Severus Snape
Potions master
Former Death Eater
Spy for the Order of the Phoenix
Order of Merlin Second Class
still a nasty greasy git
(not admitting to being the love of Harry Potter's life, even though the twerp probably would describe me as such)