Rain clawed against the windows of the dungeon office. The candles burned low, as though exhausted by existence itself.

Severus Snape examined the parchment before him with visible disappointment.

"You abandoned university."

The woman sat rigidly in the chair.

"Yes, sir."

"A remarkably foolish decision."

"Financial reasons."

"Still foolish."

Silence unfurled between them like black velvet.

Snape leaned back.

"You achieved the highest Potions scores I have witnessed in years. Your essays were tolerable. Your cauldrons rarely exploded. An irritating display of competence."

The woman blinked.

"Is that a compliment?"

"No."

Another pause.

"Professor, are you hiring me?"

"I am correcting a waste of talent."

The candles flickered.

"So I have the job?"

Snape slid a contract across the desk.

"You begin Monday. If you prove incompetent, I shall regret this."

"And if I don't?"

For a moment his dark eyes reflected the storm.

"Then I shall regret being right."

Outside, thunder rolled through the castle like the laughter of ancient gods, while inside the dungeon a peculiar fate was signed in black ink.