I want to share with my readers...my original novel, September Blue, is now available on Amazon and Kindle. The link is available on my profile page or by searching for "September Blue" by Cat Whitney on Amazon. :-)

UPDATE 5/12/15 - I've decided both pieces of this story, and my other fic "A Good Cup of Tea" will be part of a bigger crossover fic called "Polarity." I'm going to put Mary Poppins, Harry Potter and Wicked together. I've already started working on it, and I will begin posting when I have a large chunk of it finished. Until then...enjoy this. ;-)

These two chapters are simply samples of interaction between Severus and Elphaba, and few others.

Reflection

He sat back in the heavy, wooden chair, crossing his long legs at the ankles and scanning the dark room with a menacing stare. He'd left the robes behind, as was usual when venturing into the Muggle world. Still, he wore his dark trousers and dark coat buttoned carefully to the neck. He knew he stood out, regardless of his efforts to blend in with the other patrons in the boisterous pub. He knew, as he raked his hand through his ink-black hair, that his presence caused even Muggles to feel as though they should run. Whether they sensed the strength of his magic or his dislike for most of humanity, he didn't care. As long as they stayed away, he was satisfied.

A booming voice cut into his thoughts as someone clapped him on the back and exclaimed, "Severus!"

He turned to see a tall, golden-haired man towering over him in a suit that was ridiculously fuchsia. Gilderoy Lockhart smiled down at him with obscenely white teeth and impossibly blue eyes.

Bloody Hell, were the only words that came to mind.

Having agreed to this meeting, however, Severus stood and gave an obliging handshake, "Had all those memories of other wizards' exploits restored, did you?" he snarked with ease.

"What? I can't imagine what you mean," Lockhart gave him a wide-eyed look, "Perhaps you've taken a bit of Forgetfulness Potion, because I clearly state on page two thirty-eight of my book…"

Severus walked away, leaving Lockhart talking to himself. He decided he should be drinking after all.

He had just procured a dark bourbon when he heard McGonagall's voice. He turned back toward the table and saw her greet Lockhart. She was as tall and spindly as ever, with her slender frame sheathed in a Muggle dress with a large shawl around her shoulders. Her bun looked more severe without her pointy, crooked hat. Her eyes were large and wide as she finally looked at him.

"Severus," she said, studying his face, "We've missed you."

"Have you?" he sneered.

"I believe you've shown where your loyalties lie," she stated, her voice as smooth as velvet.

He looked away, not sure that he deserved even such an ambiguous compliment. Somewhere along the way, traits like loyalty and valor had become twisted with obligation and guilt into a splintered morality that he couldn't exactly defend. So he was silent.

McGonagall looked like she wanted to say something further, but she was cut off by a strangled squeal from across the room. A blur of pink and blonde came dashing around tables, nearly knocking over drinks as she headed for Lockhart. Reaching him, she pumped his hand in greeting and gave a dazzling smile.

"It's an honor, Mr. Lockhart," Glinda purred, "I've read the back covers of all your books!"

Lockhart stared back at her, soaking in her adoration without reacting to her words.

Severus rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. In his opinion, she was far too old to be blathering like a star-struck school girl. He knew exactly when Glinda had gone through school, and the lines around her eyes belied her youthful giggles. She was insufferable, and he wanted to strangle her to make the noise stop. Then, for just a moment, as Lockhart indulged the curvaceous blonde by comparing the color of his suit with her cleavage-baring Muggle dress, Severus thought they might be absurdly perfect for one another. He imagined them traveling throughout the magical world, bragging about all the good they'd done and signing everything that didn't move. The idea almost made him smile. Almost. The thought was lost, however, when he realized that she was crossing the room toward them.

Severus watched her walk as she wove between the tables, her movements more serpent-like than womanly. She wore a long, plain black dress that flowed and clung to her angular frame. She was all legs and arms, with severe features that were too dramatic to be pretty. He guessed she was twenty years out of school, like Glinda, but she wore her age well. Her dark hair was tangled and half up, with pieces falling in her eyes. Glossy waves had no significance to Elphaba. He'd noticed she tended to ignore herself, parading around with unwashed hair and dark eyes from lack of sleep. She often scowled into books or fixed those around her with cold smirk.

Suddenly, McGonagall's words from several weeks previous came back to him, I wonder why you find her so off-putting, Professor Snape? For all practical purposes, she is your reflection. Metaphorically, of course.

The comment still made him burn with angry frustration. He was one of the most powerful wizards the world had seen. And Elphaba could barely brew a proper Sleeping Draught. She could occasionally cast a decent spell, but only with a great emotional meltdown at the same time. She tended to spew magic, rather than control it. She had all the obnoxious confidence of the Granger girl, but without the skill. For someone who had a reputation for being such a terrifying witch, he found her extremely lacking. Yet, here she was, again.

They sat down around the table, then, with McGonagall at the head and Lockhart to her right. Glinda sat next to him, still giggling. McGonagall's new assistant, a wiry boy with large teeth and mussed hair sat at the other end, beside Glinda. Severus took the seat opposite Glinda and Elphaba, who had little choice, sat next to Severus. He took a long drink of his bourbon and leaned back in the chair again, already tired of this whole affair.

Elphaba, on the other hand, was eager. She felt a hum in her body that had been gone for quite some time. She was no longer a young school girl, or even a fire-setting member of the Resistance in Oz, but she felt a sense of purpose again. She felt the drive to do something again. So she listened as McGonagall laid out a proposition.

"I've asked you here tonight," McGonagall was saying, "to propose that Miss Thropp work directly with you, Professor Snape, to perfect her skills in Potions, so she might take your former position. She has passed the exams in other subjects I've given her with excellent marks and we could use someone like her in restoring the school to its former position," she paused, "I would ask you to return, Professor, but I respect your desire to be reclusive, if you wish."

Snape gave her a hard glare, choosing not to address his continued separation from society as a whole.

When no one responded, McGonagall stated, "We felt the two of you would be a good match, together."

Snape looked both horrified and incredulous, and Elphaba snorted. After a moment, she said, "We're a good match? That sounds like we've been paired by one of those websites that Muggles use to find partners for lonely people."

Glinda giggled again, because the presence of Lockhart seemed to have stripped her of all other sounds.

"And I can only imagine the advertisement that brought us together," Elphaba snapped, her voice rich with sarcasm, "'Tall, green and strange seeks even taller, darker and creepy partner. Enjoys isolation, dungeons, and constant regret. Morally ambiguous is a must. Bonus if everyone in your life thinks you're dead and is pretty much okay with it.'"

Snape met her eyes and, for just a moment, looked as though he might smile. In his eyes, which were usually so cold, Elphaba saw something that might be appreciation, if only for her sharp tongue.

Taking a deep breath, McGonagall plowed ahead, saying, "I have no interest in playing matchmaker, Miss Elphaba. My only intention is restoring my school with the best possible people."

His expression cold again, Snape raised an eyebrow and said, "If that's true, you might need to reconsider. She can barely brew anything. The last potion she tried to mix cost me a desk."

Elphaba felt her temper boil as she met his dark eyes and snapped, "You forget I didn't have the luxury of practical training as a girl. I grew up in a cabin in the woods, thanks to my parents. And I only spent a year at Shiz."

"This may be true," McGonagall went on, "but you have mastered the foundational theories, and you will learn."

Snape said nothing.

"I have mastered almost every Wizarding theory that exists," Lockhart piped up and Glinda nearly swooned.

McGonagall looked over at him as though he were an unavoidable itch that would have to scratched and said, "Yes, well, that brings me to my other point. I thought you might take on the position of Charms Professor, Mr. Lockhart. I think you can handle that. That is, if you can keep from losing your memory again."

Lockhart looked slightly less pompous as he nodded.

"I had someone else in mind," McGonagall went on, "but she's not inclined to give up her other position. And then there are issues of her…reputation."

In a rare moment, McGonagall looked flustered and glanced away.

Elphaba, suddenly feeling defensive of her new friend, piped up, "Mary's damn good and you know it. And the way she sees it, she already has a position with you. If there's a Muggle-born witch or wizard child out there anywhere, she will find them. So what does it matter what she does otherwise?"

Snape made a noise low in his throat and Elphaba cut him a glare.

McGonagall's assistant, who was called Piers, couldn't resist a snicker. From what Elphaba had seen, Piers had a great ability to constantly put his large feet in his large mouth. He seemed to feed on gossip and then repeat it back whenever he had a captive audience. Elphaba didn't know how McGonagall could stand him, but she guessed it had something to do with Piers being incredibly good at finding out what was going on with her students.

True to his prior record, Piers saw that they had all turned to look at him and blurted out, "I heard that Mary shags anyone with a John Thomas," he paused, met Snape's eyes and said, "Isn't that right, Professor Snape?"

Elphaba had heard the rumors. Mary was tight-lipped about her excursions when she wasn't working, but Elphaba had her ideas. She'd also heard the slivers of gossip about her new friend and Professor Snape, but she'd found the idea of it ludicrous. He seemed too staunchly disassociated with humans. So she expected a firm denial of Piers implication, possibly followed by a condescending insult from the former Potions Professor. Instead, however, Elphaba saw Snape's eyes flicker away and his throat move in a nervous swallow.

All he said was, "Honestly," and rolled his eyes again.

McGonagall gave him a long look, and Elphaba was suddenly positive that he had had it off with Mary. It shocked her more than she expected, because the idea of him being human enough to have any sort of sexual drive seemed ludicrous. He was so very asexual. He was sullen and pale and surly. He constantly insulted her and glowered at her work. He made Elphaba feel like she was much younger and much less important than him, and she was neither. She was the Wicked Witch of the West, once. And she was nearly his age. He was too old to be shagging women for sport. He was too strange and fearsome. His hands were too rough from caustic potions. His hair was too dark and fell too often into his impossibly dark eyes. He was too weathered, his features too severe. His mouth smirked too perfectly.

Suddenly, Elphaba let her vivid imagination go too far. She'd looked at him too long, and she suddenly imagined him and Mary in a dark corner together. Snape had her pinned against the wall, his face open in intentional ecstasy. Mary had her hands in all of his dark hair and he had her skirt rucked up. And then, in Elphaba's imagination, it wasn't Mary. It was her.

As quickly as the image formed, Elphaba shook it off. She felt a rush of disgust run through her. She was shocked at her own thoughts. She wished Piers had kept his mouth shut. The idea of Snape doing anything other than teaching her how to brew potions made her stomach turn. Elphaba wanted the image out of her head, so she focused on him as he was, with his long legs splayed open and his chest leaned forward on the table. His chin was on his hands, elbows on the table, and he was smirking at Gilderoy.

In that moment, as McGonagall tried to shift the conversation away from Mary, Elphaba felt the burn of something unmistakable in her chest. Staring at Severus Snape and knowing he'd been with Mary, she felt fierce, searing jealousy. It shocked her, because she'd felt nothing until now but loathing. She'd found him barely tolerable. He drove her to madness, but something in the idea of him bedding Mary made her stomach turn with something more than revulsion.

"Miss Elphaba?"

He was looking at her, and hearing her name is his deep, sultry baritone was enough to cement her realization that some part of her was twisted enough to want him. In the next moment, the revulsion kicked back in. Elphaba couldn't believe where she'd let her mind wander. She was done with romance, and she was certainly not going to sully Fiyero's memory by opening her legs for Severus Snape.

Standing abruptly, she addressed McGonagall, saying, "I will think on your propostion, Professor. And let you know."

Then Elphaba turned and fled the room, feeling Snape's eyes on her until she was safely out the door.