The American Assistant (Y/N x Severus Snape)

Chapter 1 - Supplies

You snatch the velvet bag of coins from the Goblin's desk, giving him a nasty look before turning on your heel and walking out of Gringotts. Your hair is up in a high bun with some fly aways framing your face. You're dressed in a long sleeved navy tunic with small embroidered stars on the sleeves.

You slip your British wizard money into your satchel, trying to push the rude goblin you just dealt with from your mind. He told you your dragots and sprinks were not worth as much as galleons, knuts, and sickles, causing your savings to dwindle down even further. You scold yourself for always spending your paychecks from Ilvermorny on useless trinkets and nightly bar outings.

You gaze into the alley, seeing it buzzing with other wizards and witches, and you notice posters for the quidditch world cup that will be played at the end of the week. Ireland against Bulgaria - perhaps you will attend, should you be able to sneak into the stadium. You smile to yourself as you make your way to Flourish and Blotts, thinking of ways to slip into the match. You push the glass door open and the bell on it rings. As you gaze into the shop, you're happy term begins in a week. Had you of waited for the day before classes began, you'd be pushing your way through students and families, fighting for the required text books. You look around, seeing a small sectioned roped off with a plaque stating it is the professors section. You stride to it, furrowing your brows, then look around for help. A few patrons stand in odd aisles, examining spines of books, oblivious to your confusion. You can't settle for the student editions of the books - there is invaluable material in the teachers editions that always helps you better instruct your students.

"Are you going to stand there like a statue or get whatever you've came for?"

Goosebumps rise over your bare neck and the hair on your arms stick up. The mans voice is deep and melodic. Just from his snarky comment, you know you could listen to his velvet voice every day. You step back with one foot, turning halfway to the man, who has silently entered the shop. Your eyes slightly widen at the sight of him. He's staring at you - no - he's glaring at you with deep obsidian eyes. You've never met anyone with such dark eyes. His attire and long, raven hair matches his eyes. He has a sharp jaw line and rather large hooked nose. His arms are beneath his cloak and he stands at least a foot taller than you. You swallow, gesturing to the small roped off space.

"I need an employee." You explain.

As if your voice offends him, he scowls, then sticks an arm out from the inside of his cloak. His long, slender, pale fingers press to one of the rods holding the rope. The velvet cord slowly falls from one side and opens for him. He strides in without another word. You watch him trail back to defense against the dark arts section, stepping in silence as he does. You look around, as if you're breaking a rule, but step into the section. You smirk to yourself and head straight to the potions section. You reach into your bag and pull out the list of materials you need. You pull your wand out and wave the long wood in a small circle beside you, then stick it back into your tunic. You grab the first book on your list: Magical Drafts and Potions.

You furrow your brows, wondering why a text book over ten years old is still in use, but place it in the air beside you. You stride down the aisle a bit more, grabbing the Book of Potions and stare at the year on the book.

"Seventeen years old?" You question out loud to yourself.

The man shrouded in black looks up from the book in his palms, staring at the shelves in front of him, an annoyed twitch of his lip appearing on his face. You toss the book onto the first one, the stack gently levitating beside you as you search for the next. You grab Advanced Potion Making  next, hopeful for a newer edition, but find it over twenty years old.

"Mercy Lewis!" You curse.

The man slams his book shut, seeing you at the far end of the aisle now.