corrumpere: a Latin word for "mar", "bribe", or "destroy"
Erin Kershaw has never been a bother in any of his classes before. The only time she has ever caused Severus to raise his voice at her was when he caught her trying to finish Montague's potion for him, and nothing of the sort has ever happened again. So he cannot fathom why, today – a day when the third and fourth years have given him a particularly hard time and all he wants to do is finish his final class of the week, have a short but satisfying dinner, and retreat to his quarters for an ample amount of Firewhiskey to relax – of all days, she would choose to openly defy him.
"Have you completely lost all logic, Miss Kershaw," Severus intoned darkly, "or do you truly desire to have the skin of your wrists seared off by a boiling potion?"
She doesn't meet his eyes. "I won't allow my sleeves to dip that far, Professor Snape. I just would really prefer if I didn't have to remove my robes today."
"So you've said… but if it has not yet managed to squeeze into that dunderhead brain of yours, I could not care less what you prefer because it is strictly out of the question." He pauses, staring her down to make sure she realizes the gravity of his order. "Now, you will slip out of your robes and begin with the task I have assigned, or you will subject yourself to a week's detention and twenty points from Slytherin."
A low murmur of displeasure ripples across the room. Severus fixes each of his Slytherins with a firm glare; he may have a looser hold on them compared to other Houses, but he knows the appropriate time to tighten the leash – chiefly when one of his own is giving him lip.
In the minute that it takes for the classroom to descend into absolute silence, Severus watches the range of emotions that flicker across Kershaw's face. Once she settles, her previous sheepishness has been replaced by a ferocity that would be better suited to a Gryffindor. There is a hard look in her eye. It never leaves as she shrugs her robes off her shoulders and drapes it over the back of her chair.
The sleeves of her white blouse are already rolled up to her elbows, leaving her forearms bare. And that is when Severus understands.
"Come with me, Miss Kershaw." He pulls his lips back in a snarl. "The rest of you, get to work! Even a first year could brew this potion. I can assure each and every one of you that those who fail to submit an acceptable vial won't be advancing into my NEWT class."
He whirls around and strides into his office, waiting for the girl to trail in after him before slamming the door shut with a wave of his hand. A loud bang issues forth from the impact, but Kershaw doesn't flinch. Severus is aware that she is staring at him rather boldly; he chooses not to remark on it. Instead, he gathers his teaching robes about him and crosses his arms.
"You will explain those to me, Miss Kershaw, or I will be forced to bring this issue immediately and directly to the Headmaster."
This revelation, oddly enough, is what makes her flinch. She lowers her gaze and clasps her hand behind her back in an attempt to hide the bruises that ring around her wrists. The lot of them, vaguely resembling the shape of curled fingers.
"They're nothing, sir. It was… an accident."
"Forgive me if I don't believe you. Was it a boy?" He takes her silence as a yes. "From Slytherin?" He considers her for a moment. No, thank Merlin. "Ravenclaw? Hufflepuff?" More silence. "Don't tell me the damned sod was from Gryffindor—"
"It wasn't from a boy," she snaps.
Realization dawns on him. It's highly unlikely, but it isn't impossible. "Was it a teacher?"
"What? No, of course not." She looks truly shaken up by this, yet another emotion that she's felt in the course of less than five minutes. She sighs. "If it will put you at ease, sir, it was someone from home. And it was an accident – it was!" she insists after he raises a skeptic eyebrow. "I appreciate the concern, professor," and here she sounds quite sincere, "but it's really nothing."
He still can't bring himself to accept her reasoning as true – how can he? All he does is give her a brisk nod and motion towards the door. She returns the gesture, with a low murmur of "thank you", before she opens the door and swiftly returns to her workbench. With deft hands, she flips open her book to the designated page, prepares her ingredients, and gets to work.
At the end of the period, Severus allows himself a grim smile. None of the students know, nor will they, that he extended the time limit by five minutes. Just long enough for Kershaw to finish her potion, bottle it up, and place it on his desk along with the others.
He watches her during dinner. Not once does she attempt to reach across the table for seconds.
A similar incident doesn't happen again. No, the next time her bruises come into play, it's because of a roommate who didn't know how to keep her mouth shut – for good reason, Severus reflected.
"Erin was changing out of her uniform in the loo, you see," says Andrea. "I told her that I forgot to grab something. She tried telling me to wait but I was already through the door, and…" Her voice drops to a low murmur. "She probably got them during the holidays – how horrible!"
Severus nods. "The bruises, Miss Watson," he says, "How extensive were they?"
"Very extensive, I'd say, professor. Nearly all of her stomach was black and blue, and there were even some on her shoulders." She shudders, then. "You don't think she was… raped, do you, sir?"
No matter how vile the children and staff of Hogwarts think him to be, Severus never has and never will wish such a cruel act on anyone, most especially the students of his House. Even hearing Andrea speak of such a topic brings a chill down his spine.
"No," he finally says, "I do not think she was raped… But I do not think the possibility is so very far off at this rate. Keep a closer eye on your friend, Miss Watson. Please."
Her eyes grow wide. Severus sneers half-heartedly; the girl knows that 'please' is barely part of his vocabulary.
It is only the second day since the students have returned from London for the Easter holiday and Watson is already in his office again, wringing her hands. There is a haunted look on her face and she looks like she is about to cry. Severus suspects many things, but he doesn't want to jump into conclusions.
"How much worse are they?" he asks, forcing a gentle tone into his voice.
"I couldn't see whether there were more underneath her blouse, sir, but… her face, it's…" The girl sniffs. A single tear leaks out from the corner of her eye. "I didn't even try being subtle this time, professor. I didn't want to be. She was taking longer than usual in the loo, and I thought I heard her crying for a while… When I saw her, she just screamed at me to get out – I didn't know who else to go to."
Severus sighs, lacing his fingers together and bringing them to his forehead.
Andrea sniffs again. "I'm sorry, Professor Snape. I understand if you want me to leave. It's the middle of the night, after all."
"Yes, Miss Watson, I think that would be best. But," he raises his head, "the information you have given is appreciated. Five points to Slytherin." She smiles a bit at that. "You may go."
"Good night, professor."
He doesn't reply, already too deep in thought about another dark-haired student of his. Watson leaves the room and Severus stares at the empty doorway, deep in thought. He will leave the Kershaw girl alone for the night, he decides, alone to be able to properly lick her wounds. But come morning… he shakes his head.
Come morning.
And come it does, sooner than either of them expected, Severus thinks. It is a weekend but in all the years that he's known her, she never sleeps in like most of the girls in her House. And if his own years of abuse have taught him anything, it is that he will find her in a covert nook in the library. And he is right.
"Kershaw," he growls, watching as her head shoots upward from where it was studiously bent over a thick tome on Arithmancy. Seeing her face clear of any blemish, he frowns. "My office. Now."
"But I'm—"
"Leave it." He adopts his fiercest scowl, brooking no further argument from her. She rises from her seat and he spins around, robes billowing behind him. Pince shoots him a glare. He ignores her. On the way to the dungeons, he keeps his ears pricked for the sounds of Erin's footsteps, making sure that she doesn't entertain thoughts of escape.
Once they arrive in his office, he gestures briskly for her to sit. "Winky!" he snaps; the elf in question pops into the room and Severus mutters, "Tea."
Winky disappears again.
Severus sees the way the Kershaw girl watches the exchange. He know he isn't imagining it when he catches a flicker of anger on her face; it is long gone by the time Winky returns with two clean white cups and a steaming pot of tea. The house elf leaves once more with a soft pop, and everything falls silent.
Erin is staring resolutely at the desk top in front of her. Severus' heavy gaze never falters from her unmoving form. Neither of them reaches for the tea.
"I assure you, Miss Kershaw, that silence will not help you now. We will remain here for the entire weekend if that is what it takes."
"I'm sorry but I don't even know why you've asked me here, professor."
He sneers. "Feigning ignorance won't help you either."
"I'm not feigning anything, Professor Snape."
"You mean to tell me that you did not shout at your roommate just last night because she saw something you didn't want her to see?"
Her eyes flash; she takes the bait. "Andrea went to you?"
"I cannot fathom why that would be so hard to believe, Kershaw. I am your Head of House, am I not?"
"She should have just gone straight to Dumbledore. He wouldn't have bothered to patronize me, like some fucking priest."
Anger rears its ugly head. Severus' chair scrapes against the floor as he shoots to his feet, right before it topples to the ground. He doesn't realize that he has drawn his wand until he sees the alarm flash across her features. Breathing deeply, he takes a moment to compose himself and by the time he's reined himself in, her cool mask has slid into place.
"If you think I'm patronizing you then you're more of a fool than I thought," he mutters. Without another word, he waves his wand and performs a silent Revelio charm.
She must have felt the Glamour leaving her face. Her chair topples to the ground as well in her attempt to distance herself from him, but Severus quickly strides forward and grabs her shoulders, turning her to face him.
As his eyes flit across her ruined face, he vaguely feels his fingers sinking into the flesh of her arms. He immediately loosens his grip, a terrible thought occurring to him just then: whatever pathetic excuse for a man has hurt her – is this how he did it, too? By forcing her to do something, gripping her too tightly? If so, how is Severus any better than him?
He dismisses the errant thought with a slight shake of his head, forcing himself to look at the girl before him. A large bruise circles her eye, varying in blacks and blues, a considerable portion of it yellow; just beneath is a cut on her cheekbone, possibly placed there by the blunt force of a sharp knuckle.
"Who did this?"
"Stepfather. Mum let him move into the house a few months ago. Neither of us knew what he was really like until we started spending the mornings with him."
Severus purses his lips. "Why, in all of Hades, do you submit yourself to this? Why keep your silence? Why not ask for help?"
She has the nerve to laugh; it rings hollow in his ears. "You wouldn't understand, professor. Your parents were Purebloods. You've never watched a round of boxing in your life, have you?"
You'd be surprised. "Try me."
A blanket of silence settles over the room once more. Severus thinks that perhaps he'll have to look into her mind – no matter how much he doesn't wish to – when she suddenly speaks.
"There's this tactic in boxing where the fighter puts his gloves down. It doesn't matter whether he's winning or he's losing – suddenly you'll just see one of them lower their arms and present their faces open for the pummeling… It's their way of saying 'I can take it.'" Her eyes become strangely glassy. "And I can take it, Professor Snape. It doesn't matter that mum turns away every time it happens. It doesn't matter that I know when it will happen. I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me kneel, but I won't be putting my gloves up either."
She grows silent. Severus thinks that perhaps she's finished with her, frankly, idiotic speech, but then she murmurs something under her breath that inflames him.
She says, "Not while I'm still on the radar, anyway."
Snarling, Severus sets her chair upright and gruffly pushes her down onto it. "If you think I'll allow a comment like that to slide past without consequences—"
"I'm not talking about killing him, if that's what you're worried about. He's already got that coming for him."
He raises an eyebrow, and the corner of her lip curls upwards.
"Cancer," she says. "I noticed the symptoms a few weeks ago. No surprise, really, considering how much he smokes in a day… but I've got worse plans for him."
Severus wants to say more, but what he sees in her eyes is enough to make him swallow his words. He cannot talk her out of turning to the Dark Arts, not immediately. It's the only time he is thankful that he has two more years with her before she leaves Hogwarts.
As he gathers his thoughts, she keeps his gaze, almost challengingly.
Severus knows a stalemate when he sees one.
"You will go to Madam Pomfrey, explain to her the situation, and have her run a full diagnostic on you," he orders. "I won't have a student of mine with a broken rib sitting in the library."
The Kershaw girl smiles politely. "Yes, professor."
"Good. Go. We will speak more of this at a later time."
"Yes, professor."
Severus waits for her to leave, eagerly anticipating the moment when he can slam the door behind her. Yet just before she steps past the threshold into the hallway outside, she turns. "Professor Snape?"
He raises an eyebrow.
"Don't you think it takes a certain amount of courage to fight with your gloves down, sir?"
"Only a dunderhead from Gryffindor would have an opinion so wholly idiotic."
She laughs and then turns to leave. This time, Severus does slam the door behind her. But once the fact registers to him that he is, indeed, alone, he runs his hand across his face and closes his eyes.
In the future the girl would grow up to be like him, he has no doubts about that – but he'd be damned if he just allowed that to happen on his bloody watch.
A/N: If it wasn't already completely obvious, this little oneshot was heavily inspired by the episode "Fight" from the Showtime series "Masters of Sex". (If angst and denial and sex are your cups of tea, I strongly suggest that you give it a go. Though it was cancelled after four season, those four seasons were still some of the best acting I've ever seen. Lizzy Caplan and Michael Sheen's chemistry was just asdfghjkl.)
Oddly enough, this oneshot was also somewhat inspired by the song "Cherry Wine" by Hozier. The music video in particular shines some light on the subtlety of domestic violence. It's a beautiful song and I recommend it as well.
And last but not the least, this oneshot was written in one night in the middle of a first-week-of-regular-classes-in-senior-high panic attack! I still had a bunch of readings to do but I found that I couldn't absorb a single word, and I knew that I'd break down in tears if I didn't put my feelings down into words. Weird that this was what resulted from that, huh?
Anyway, the process of writing this is honestly just a blur now, and I don't have a beta. I'm sorry if it doesn't make much sense. I'm also sorry for any errors that might be spotted. I still hope y'all liked it though!
And DO speak out against domestic violence!