I should be finishing my X-Men fic and here I am writing a Harry Potter fic hahaha crap.

Anyway, I was inspired to write this after watching A Monster Calls. (That movie BROKE me.) Coincidentally I was reading Snape fics at the same time, so you can put the pieces together.

I wrote this in more or less three hours on my phone during a Saturday night/morning (ahem 2am), so please forgive any spelling or grammar errors I might have missed. Also, if Snape seemed a bit OOC, that's probably because he is. I'll never learn how to write him correctly. He's an enigma, but an enigma we all love so much aint that right.

Enjoy! :)

Zoe Cartwright was by no means an unpopular student. In fact, students would part like the Red Sea whenever they saw her approaching. A hush always fell over them, and all eyes would be on her. Even the teachers often expressed some interest in the girl. Severus Snape was never one to "hop onto the bandwagon", as the students so eloquently put it, but he found that he couldn't quite blame them for being so fascinated with the girl.

She was the first Muggleborn to ever be sorted into Slytherin House, after all.

However, the fact of the matter was that her heritage was the only fault Severus could ever find. He could only presume that the same went for the rest of the faculty and staff. Her tongue was just as sharp as any other Slytherin's. Snape had caught glimpses of her losing her temper a few times, but only ever out of defense. She was an excellent student; she was in his NEWTs class, after all. And for four years she had been an important staple in Slytherin's Quidditch team.

But despite all these things, the Slytherins never stopped hounding on her. That much had always been easy to see from the teachers' table in the Great Hall. She had a few friends, very few, but enough for her to survive without completely turning into a lone wolf – however, "friends" was a very loose term. They were never there when she needed defending; that, as well, was easy enough to see from the teachers' table.

Snape had never been one to show favoritism among his Slytherins. He may always indulge them in front of other Houses, but when it came down to it, he always made it very clear that they were not to rely on him to clean up their messes. He was not their nanny. And however badly McGonagall might have wanted it from him, he could not make an exception of Zoe Cartwright.

It was not something for the old Transfigurations professor to be upset about, really. Cartwright had gotten through six whole years of verbal abuse from her fellow students without Snape having to come to her rescue (except for the once when that verbal abuse became physical abuse, at which time, he made sure that it would not happen again.) What was another ten months? He explained as much to McGonagall and she only gave him a stern look before walking away.

He had spoken too soon, it seemed.

The letter came in the middle of November. An owl flying into the Great Hall wouldn't have been odd, except mail usually arrived during breakfast, and this one arrived during dinner. Not only that, but it was clearly a Muggle owl. It looked quite lost. It circled the Great Hall for what must have been a full minute before finally dropping the letter from its beak – at the wrong table, as well.

A scowl made its way across Snape's face. The letter was obviously for a certain female Slytherin, but it had instead landed in the hands of a Gryffindor.

Severus could only watch as the oaf – his name was Carl Hopkins – made to open it, sniggering with his friends. Cartwright quickly got to her feet and crossed the aisle. There was thunder on her face as she demanded he give her the letter. She had her hand inside her robes, most likely gripping her wand.

"Oh dear," Snape heard Pomona say under her breath. "Shouldn't you intervene, Severus? She might hurt him."

He sneered. "There is no need." In all his years of teaching Zoe Cartwright, he had never once seen her take deadly aim at another student. She snapped at them, yes, and he had heard reports of her threatening other students more times than he could count, but she had never been one to lash out with her magic.

And in that moment, even as Hopkins was reading a letter that was not for him, Cartwright was yet to stand by her threats. Snape's interest in the situation was piqued when Hopkins, after several moments of staring at the parchment, willingly handed it over to its rightful owner. Even from afar, Snape didn't miss the look of surprise on the boy's face, and even perhaps grim satisfaction. Zoe snatched the letter from his hands and read.

After just a few seconds, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the hall.

From the other side of Pomona, Flitwick made a humming noise from the back of his throat. "What do you think was on the letter? Something scandalous?"

"I have a feeling we'll find out about it very soon," replied Pomona.

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The students saw their teachers as beings of maturity, while in reality there had never been a worse flock of gossips. Snape, as always, was exempted from this poor trait. Unfortunately, Flitwick and Sprout were still correct. Very soon after Cartwright had exited the scene, the Great Hall became filled with murmurs of what had been written on the letter.

As soon as Severus caught wind of the news, he immediately regretted not having stepped in between Hopkins and Cartwright. That Gryffindor oaf should never have seen the contents of that letter. It was not something that should become common knowledge. It was far too personal a report for all four Houses to know about.

"What?" Flitwick said, tilting his head slightly. "What are they saying?" It seemed his age was beginning to affect his hearing after all.

"Oh, it's horrible, Filius," Pomona gushed. "Zoe Cartwright's mother passed away this morning! Some Muggle disease I've never heard of... It was terminal, they say."

Terminal Cancer, she means to say, thought Snape. Zoe had mentioned the disease once or twice in her essays. Wizarding kind were all but immune to it, but Muggles were apparently dying left and right because of it. But Severus had never known that her mother was ill – perhaps because, no matter how much he denied it, he never had made it his duty to know about the lives of Muggleborns. It hadn't helped that Zoe rarely talked to anyone, much less her Head of House, who was not very approachable to begin with.

The news of Zoe's mother's death was still flitting about in the air by the time Snape stood to leave. As he was making for the side door, which only teachers could use, Dumbledore suddenly called him back.

"Will you speak with her, Severus?"

"I was not planning to. Miss Cartwright's business is her own, after all. If she wishes to speak with me then she will come of her own accord."

"Yes, perhaps that would be wise." Albus pursed his lips. "But she will need guidance, Severus. I trust that you will come to her aid should she need it."

The Potions master sneered. "Of course. May I be excused, Headmaster?"

The old man waved his hand and Severus took his leave. It was with a sigh of relief that he finally could no longer hear the murmurs of the crowd. The hallways were dark and silent, and he glided down them in almost the same way. He promptly made his way to the dungeons, and in the gloom that surrounded him, he could almost imagine hearing Zoe Cartwright choking on her tears. It never eluded him that it was merely his imagination, too.

Zoe Cartwright was far too intelligent to cry in a place where anyone could find her.

She would not be in the Slytherin common room, nor would she be in the dorms. If Snape had to guess, she had locked herself up in one of the empty classrooms. And despite his usual vigor for catching students out in the halls after hours, he hoped that she wasn't stupid enough to actually get caught by him. He would hate to have to take points from his own House – from her.

He busied himself with grading essays of the sixth years, distracted himself from thinking about Zoe Cartwright and her mother, and how horrible it was when Snape had lost his own—

The time came for his usual nightly patrol. The Head Boy and Girl were, at best, artless in the ways of Catching People Doing What They Ought Not Be Doing. Snape preferred taking matters into his own hands. That consisted of checking every nook and cranny from the dungeons all the way up to the seventh floor.

In his efforts, he was able to catch a couple from Ravenclaw practically shoving their tongues down each other's throats (and they called themselves the best and brightest of the school,) and a small group of wily Gryffindors who had apparently been planning to lay down a trap by the Fat Lady's Corridor. After deducting the appropriate amount of House points, he sent them on their way. He did his final checks of the seventh floor. Satisfied that he'd done all that he could for the night, he was just about to make for the Grand Staircase when something echoed down the corridor.

More specifically, the sound of spells being cast.

His eyes bulged in disbelief. What pair of imbeciles was foolhardy enough to be dueling in the middle of the night, and in the seventh floor, no less?

Snape raced to the source of the noise, trusting his ears more than anything. The spell casting continued on and on, and in the right time, Severus begun to hear voices accompanying the small cracks of magic. As he got closer, however, he realized two things. The first was that it was a voice, singular, and the second was that it was not even crying out incantations. It was just... screaming. The agony and the potency of the spells were clear, and as Snape was closing in on the location of the noise, he soon realized just who he was about to capture.

He came across the Room of Requirement, but at that moment was just a plain stretch of wall. The sounds coming from behind it remained constant, though, and Severus assumed that Cartwright had been too distraught to remember that the Room only took very specific needs into consideration. She had clearly forgotten to place a Muffliato Charm.

For a moment, Severus considered letting the incident slide. Zoe Cartwright was a good student, as far as he knew, and she was obviously very devastated with her mother's death. But then his previous thoughts returned to him: he could not make an exception of her.

Snape thrice walked past the initial location of the Room, repeating only one thought as strongly as he could in his head: I must see Zoe Cartwright.

The door appeared, just as he had hoped it would. He pulled it open and entered as silently as he could, determined to catch a glimpse of just what the girl was doing before he brought her down.

As it turned out, it looked as though she was about to break her shoulder.

She was using her wand so intensely, so vigorously, Severus thought it was a miracle that she had not at least sprained her arm. Little cries and grunts of exertion escaped her lips as her spells flew to the other side of the room, where they promptly exploded against the wall and disappeared. She was facing away from him, but as soon as he called her name, she turned and he saw her bloodshot eyes, her tearstained face. It occurred to him that he had never seen her show such emotion before.

"Would you care to explain to me exactly what you are doing out of bed at this time, Miss Cartwright?"

She hastily swiped at her cheeks, but otherwise she remained where she was. For a moment, she even looked defiant. "I'm sure you already know, Professor Snape."

"That letter does not give you an excuse to sass me, Cartwright," he snarled. "And I asked you a question."

"I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stay in the dorm either. I think..." She hesitated, both wariness and fatigue clear in her eyes. "I think I would have hurt someone if I did."

"That was to be expected. A witch or wizard's magic often reacts badly when he or she is in distress."

"And you just let me stay in the dormitories, knowing that I could have exploded any minute."

"All the teachers know that you would never hurt a fellow student, Miss Cartwright, willingly or otherwise." The corner of his lip twitched the same moment he noticed how pale she had become. "You've overtaxed yourself... Come with me."

She looked skeptical. "I don't think I can make it all the way down to the dungeons, sir."

"Well you'll have to, because in case you've forgotten, your sleeping quarters are down there as well."

He scowled at her for a good long moment, daring her to challenge him. In the end, even she had not grown so bold. With her head bowed, she followed him out into the seventh floor corridor and to the Grand Staircase.

She said nothing as they walked, not even an apology. Snape did not know what to make of her silence, only that she must thought she had nothing to apologize for. As they were crossing over to the second floor corridors, Snape noticed that she was lagging behind farther than she should have. Her face was pale and a cold sweat had broken out over her skin. He had no other choice but to offer his arm.

She blinked at him, staring as if he'd gone mad.

"Shut your mouth, Cartwright. You'll catch flies," he snapped.

His gaze flickered pointedly to his arm, again daring her to question him, and again she did not. Her grip on his elbow was almost tight enough to cut off blood circulation, but they arrived at the dungeons before he could begin to lose feeling in his hand.

She made to pull away when they neared the Slytherin common room, but Severus caught her wrist and began tugging her to his office. She did not object. Once inside closed doors, he pointed to the chair in front of his desk – "Sit," – and wordlessly went to retrieve a Rejuvenating Potion from his personal stores.

When he returned, her hand was resting on the edge of his desk, and her head was resting on the back of her hand.

"Drink this," he ordered, holding out a small vial. "It will tide you over until you return to your dorm."

He watched her tilt her head back to down the potion, and then took the vial from her and pocketed it. Wordlessly, he came to sit at the other side of the desk, steepling his fingers in front of him and just observing her for a minute. In the brief minute that he had been gone to retrieve the potion, a few stray tears had come and gone. Her eyes would be puffy beyond belief in the morning.

"I'm sure you know what happened earlier today?" She cleared her throat. "To my mother?"

"I am aware."

A deep sigh escaped her. "Then I'm sure you'd understand why I just want to be alone right now, Professor Snape. Can I please go back to the dorms?"

She was earnest in her request, at least. No trace of scorn to be found. But he still narrowed his eyes and forced a sharp tone into his voice. "Cartwright, with whatever juices you may have in that mind of yours you should come to realize that the death of your mother was not your fault. There was nothing you could have done. I'm sure even your sleep-addled brain can tell you that."

"I needed one more year." A faint edge crept into her voice.

"Pardon?"

"One more year and I would have gotten a job at St. Mungo's. I was going to invent a cure and she... she would have gotten better."

"It's hardly your fault for not being able to speed up your education, Miss Cartwright. Frankly, not even the Headmaster can do that." Snape couldn't help but to sneer. "And, I'm sure you realize that while inventing a cure, the research itself would take months, perhaps even years to prepare. Even the world's most renowned scientists haven't been able to invent one. What makes you think you can accomplish what they have not?"

"I have magic. I know things Muggle scientists can only dream about. The cure could be a potion and how could the Muggles invent that?"

Snape admired her tenacity, truly, as much as he admired her skill in Potions. And he didn't fail to notice how her hands had begun shaking. Perhaps that was what drove him to say what he said next:

"Allow me to help you."

She had been staring down at her lap, but as soon as the words left his mouth, her head shot up. "What?"

"Your dream to invent a cure, however unlikely it is to happen... I can respect it. I will allow you to begin your research here in Hogwarts, and if the library's tomes are inadequate, you may borrow some of mine – with due reason, obviously." He narrowed his eyes a bit at that. "If you should have any questions, you may approach me. Given the concept of your research I think it would be safe to label this as a... school project. For extra credit, if you will."

Her mouth was hanging open again. She snapped it shut before he could reprimand her a second time. "P-Professor, that's... that's..." She blinked. "Thank you."

Nonplussed, Snape leaned back in his chair. "However for tonight's incident, 10 points from Slytherin."

"Of course, sir."

"Has your family made any funeral arrangements?"

The change in her was instantaneous. Her face fell. Her shoulders slumped. It looked as though she was about to cry again, and Snape could readily admit that he may have gone about this the wrong way.

"My father..." She swallowed. "He should be making arrangements as we speak, but I was planning on asking the Headmaster if I could leave school for a bit... next week... just to make sure that he did everything right."

Severus caught the hint of derision in her voice and raised an eyebrow in interest. "You don't trust him to make the proper arrangements?"

"He's failed us in a lot of things." The slight growl was unmistakable.

She'd had a horrible father then. Possibly one of the ones who walked out on their families, but Snape couldn't be sure. He did not know enough about her to be sure; but he knew then that the two of them were more alike than he previously thought.

As he looked at her, sitting across him with tense shoulders, fiddling with her thumb, he could almost imagine himself as a child. Dumbledore had just committed him into his office so they could talk about his new living arrangements, because both his parents were dead.

"Listen carefully now, Miss Cartwright." She did not miss the seriousness in his voice; she looked up. "I will not pretend that the next several months will be easy for you, because they won't be. To put it simply, they may be the most difficult you've ever had to face. But this is the time to be strong. The world does not owe you a thing. You must wrestle it into submission." He straightened up in his seat, issuing a slight sneer. "No more standing idly by while your schoolmates bully you into submission, Cartwright. Take control of your life. If you do, then perhaps the road to a cure won't be so impossible after all."

Even Severus was surprised with how much had escaped his mouth. Still, he kept his face blank of all emotion. He knew she would want to see something. She would have to work for that.

"Are you actually encouraging me to start losing points for our House, professor?"

He didn't miss a beat. "Often I find that House points can only be taken away if you are ever actually caught."

For the first time since she'd read that bloody letter, he saw a smile crawl up her lips. She nodded.

Severus regarded her for another moment before waving his hand at the door. "You may leave now, Miss Cartwright. Return to your dormitory immediately."

He made a show of busying himself with ungraded papers as she made her leave. But just before the door closed, she poked her head into the room again. "Sir," she said. "If my magic starts... acting up again, may I have your permission to use the Room of Requirement?"

"You're in your seventh year, Cartwright. I fully expect you to have more control of your magic. But in the meantime..." The corner of his lip twitched at the crestfallen look on her face. "Do make sure to cast the necessary wards. As I've said, it only ever matters if you are caught."

In loving memory of Alan Rickman. xx