The Exchange

by ScarletAnneGray

A foreign exchange student arrives at Hogwarts with a life touched by Lord Voldamort. This fact, and many others are known only to the Headmaster, but form the basis of an unlikely relationship with Severus Snape.

1. Part I

He guessed it was simple boredom that drew him to the clock tower window on this Saturday morning; its vantage providing a sheltered, but clear view of the arriving guest. Severus Snape was usually reluctant to loiter in these common areas of the castle, much preferring the solitude of his dungeon chambers; however, today was different, today brought with it an air of curiosity. The stale snow swirled about the centuries old pillars surrounding the courtyard upon which he gazed; its frozen fountain quieted until the spring thaw. It was the old Headmaster quickly crossing the windblown flagstones below that brought his thoughts back from the mist of a vague daydream. 'Our new exchange student must have finally arrived,' Severus thought. A tall, thin figure emerged from the snow-covered glade below the courtyard; wrapped in a heavy black traveling cloak, the student's face protected from the cold and obscured from view by the hood pulled down against the bitter wind. His innocuous question as to within which house the new student would reside was answered by the arrival of Filius Flitwick extending greetings at the Headmaster's side – "Ravenclaw eh? Well, so much the better; one less interruption," he said under his breath, frosting the window in front of him. He remained still, purely inquisitive, awaiting a glimpse of this new charge that must, through placement with Professor Flitwick, at least possess a keen mind; but, the wintry gusts forced those in the courtyard to bow themselves further against the cold as they proceeded through the great wooden entryway and into the castle. Slightly disappointed by the time wasted at the tower window, and annoyed by this disappointment as it was unlike Professor Snape to exhibit such emotion, he turned on the spot and silently swept down the tower stair to return to his dungeon chamber.

*

It was nearing the dinner hour. As this was the holiday break, he rarely felt the need to dine in the hall with those few choosing not to return home for various reasons; tonight however…'Tonight,' he thought, 'I may make an appearance, just to see which students found Christmas at home a more unpleasant proposition than that at school.' He had always been one of these students during his youth that chose to remain during the winter break. The prospect of enduring another Christmas in the presence of bickering family whose sole fixation was on the quantity of gifts exchanged rather than on the meaning of the season was more than he could tolerate; not when the option of avoiding it altogether so conveniently presented itself. Let his parents think him a dullard in need of additional lessons, as long as he did not have to bear their kind of Christmas. Well, that was all behind him now; his parents were both dead. 'Be careful what you wish for, eh Severus?' he thought with a slight pang of guilt. Now, as a professor without living relatives, he no longer had to make excuses or justify his seasonal pretence, as most of the staff remained at the castle throughout the years' holidays; instead he reflected on his imposed isolation, brushing thoughts of loneliness to the back of his mind.

Severus entered the Great Hall, as ever, through the back passage from the dungeons only to find that the traditional configuration of student and staff tables had been replaced by a single, exquisitely decorated one surrounded by ten high-backed, gilded armchairs. 'Fabulous,' he thought sarcastically, 'the Headmaster is undoubtedly behind this once again; always happy to pamper his holiday guests.' He turned back to retreat to his chambers, having decided immediately that he would not participate in this too familiar gathering, when he was merrily met by the Headmaster crowned with a purple, velvet fez that matched his spangled, fur-trimmed robes. "Ah Severus! So glad you decided to join us on this festive evening instead of holing up in the dungeon!" With a twinkle of happiness in one eye and mischief in the other, Dumbledore wrapped his arm around Severus and guided him back to the feast table. With a look that was unmistakably like the scowl worn by a child caught in a prohibited act with no means of escape, Severus took a seat at the Headmaster's left hand.

Very few moments passed before they were joined by Professors McGonagall and Sprout, who had undoubtedly begun their festivities with more than one afternoon cocktail. Rosy-cheeked and not so sure-of-foot, they joined the feast table alongside Snape. A more sober Sybill Trelawney, Hogwarts' divination teacher, then entered the Great Hall in her typically airy fashion; one meant to suggest permanent residence within the ethereal plane and in possession of knowledge guarded by those in tune with the preternatural. The briefest of time passed before Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sprout, and Trelawney were hoisting drinks to familiar Christmas toasts; Snape, with neither a smile nor glass of wine with which to follow suit, sulked at his place-setting, hands folded across his broad chest. A small group of rather intimidated looking students made their way cautiously to the table, not confident that they were to join this gathering, but unable to locate an alternative for their holiday meal. The Headmaster welcomed them warmly and quickly dispelled any doubt as to their invitation, pouring sparkling pumpkin juice for the younger guests and elderberry wine for the older. As Dumbledore's cheeks began to show signs of the firewhiskey he was sipping, the small figure of Professor Flitwick entered the Great Hall chatting merrily with one who must undoubtedly be the new exchange student, Medina de Muro, now under his care. As if the lights in the hall seemed to dim and the air become still, the new student's liquid-silver blond hair and lightly coppered skin pressed themselves against the guests' eyes. Severus wondered reflexively whether anyone else noticed the stark contrast to his greasy black hair and unnaturally pale face. He was both startled and intimidated by the icy blue eyes he found momentarily fixed upon his deep onyx black. Medina joined the gathering with a faint smile for all those directing greetings towards them as Professor Flitwick seated her between himself and an older Hufflepuff student. Filius' squeaky voice announced to all that Medina was here on exchange from The Palma Wizarding Academy on the Mediterranean island of Majorca, and that she spoke mainly Catalan; however, he was quick to point out that her understanding of English would be aided through use of the conversum potion until she was able to master their language. "Oh, please speak freely!" he said to everyone. "Medina can understand everything you say, she just won't be able to respond very clearly, and you may have a little trouble understanding her. That is, of course, unless anyone here speaks Catalan," he laughed. "Excuse me," sneered Snape, "use of the conversum potion? What may I ask is that?" these last words drawling poisonously from his lips. There was no doubt held by anyone at the table that Professor Snape was unsurpassed in the field of potion crafting; they were, however, most surprised by his apparent lack of knowledge of Medina's language elixir. "Well, quite honestly Severus, aside from providing the ability to understand our language, I know nothing of this potion," Flitwick stated in a completely casual manner, not the least bit embarrassed by his own ignorance. It was then that Medina leaned closer to Professor Flitwick and whispered something in his tiny ear, making a concerted effort to avoid looking at any of the party guests. "Oh ho! I think Miss de Muro just told me that the elixir is of her own making, created in anticipation of her stay with us at Hogwarts," to which Medina nodded in agreement. "That would be quite outstanding, would it not Severus?!" asked Flitwick excitedly. Snape said nothing, but his glare spoke volumes of the irritation and skepticism he now held for Miss de Muro.

The Christmas meal was served, sating the guests with all manner of holiday treats. As the Headmaster finished his second helping of treacle tart, he cast a warm glow over the table ensuring that everyone was satisfied, well fed, and most happy; except for Severus of course, who would sooner kiss a Thestral than allow himself to outwardly express merriment. Medina, despite her lingual disadvantage, could not doubt that the announcement of the conversum potion's origin had in some way been the cause of Snape's apparent disdain for her; a feeling she could not dispel with any amount of holiday cheer from either her new classmates or instructors. Assuming Medina's look of unhappiness was caused by the conclusion of the evening's festivities, Professor Flitwick bade everyone a good night, excused himself and Medina from the gathering, and vanished up the marble staircase leading to Ravenclaw tower.

*

"Chocolate Gateau," Professor Snape intoned to the stone gryphon standing guard at the entry to the Headmaster's chamber. With the sound of grinding stone-upon-stone, the gryphon turned on its base, continuously revealing a staircase spiraling up into the hidden reaches of Dumbledore's tower. Snape stepped fluidly in time with a rising step, allowing its motion to carry him toward the Headmaster's oaken door. Grasping the wrought knocker, Snape announced his presence and was ushered in with a pleasant, "Please enter Severus," by Professor Dumbledore.

"As ever, playing the mysterious part Headmaster; what is it you wished to speak with me about?" said Snape smugly. Leaning forward upon his folded hands with a look that suggested finality, the Headmaster began to explain what his intentions were regarding their new student; explaining in a fashion that conveyed no argument would be entertained on the subject. "It is without doubt that by now you've noticed Miss de Muro's propensity for potion-making. And, it is also without saying that you are one of the best Potions Masters Hogwarts has ever had in its service. Therefore," he said in a near whisper, "I would very much like you to expend extra effort and time in further developing her skills." Dumbledore paused in a way that was meant to allow these statements to solidify, while stifling what he knew would be an unenthusiastic response from Severus. Changing his look from commanding composure to one of warmth, the Headmaster then said, "You may even find that Medina's abilities will compliment your own. Her knowledge of potion-making, foreign to us, may inspire some unique chemistry." With nothing more than a curt nod of his head, Severus turned silently and left the chamber. The hushed pace of his black leather boots keeping time with his pounding anger; a scowl so deep upon his face that it cast its own shadow – 'Once again,' he thought, 'I am subservient to an intolerable assignment!' He continued as he descended the steps to the dungeons, 'implying that this woman, this child, has something to teach me?' … 'Ridiculous!'

*

A soft tapping at the library window heralded the arrival of one of the Hogwarts' post owls; a small piece of parchment attached to its scaly leg. Medina pushed her chair away from the desk and proceeded to retrieve the message from the apparently impatient owl that desired only to return to the early morning rest from which it had been interrupted in performing this task. Upon unfurling the small scroll, she found a note from the Potions Master.

Miss de Muro,

Per the Headmaster's instruction, you are to receive additional tutoring twice weekly. You are expected to arrive in my classroom promptly at 7:00 pm each Tuesday and Friday. The first session is scheduled for February 9, during which time you can expect to be subject to a series of examinations meant to establish your proficiency at potion-making.

Professor S. Snape

Most, if not all, of the blood drained from her face upon reading this note. The image of Professor Snape's glower, evident during the holiday feast upon discovery of her conversum potion, flooded her thoughts. 'Whom should I speak to about this?' she thought in a panic, 'Who would best know how I should approach this assignment? Professor Flitwick? Professor McGonagall?' she continued. 'How am I to handle this alone? Surely Professor Snape doesn't intend this to be anything more than punishment for what he saw as a disrespectful gesture at Christmas.' Medina would have to prepare carefully for these sessions; careful not to divulge her depth of knowledge; careful not to appear as anything other than a modest student. It is often far more difficult to appear inferior than one would imagine; more difficult to make others believe you are less than you really are. 'Yes,' she thought, 'this will take careful consideration. Professor Snape is undoubtedly keen. Too much talent revealed and he will consider me impertinent, too little and he will abuse me for my ignorance; but, found to be playing the fool…' she imagined apprehensively, 'that would have the worst consequences of all.'

*

Tuesday, February 9th arrived far more quickly than Medina could have anticipated. She knew she was not fully prepared for this evening's first examination – and an examination it would certainly be. An assessment of her emotional strength, of her ability to gracefully accept what she was sure to be an attack on her character, a probing for any weakness. Although Medina appeared to be a student like any other seventh year at Hogwarts, she possessed knowledge vastly more superior. Mercurius Mancor, her grandfather, was an alchemist of great talent and repute amongst those traveled in the Mediterranean countries. It was her grandfather that mentored her in the alchemical arts; filling her with all of the knowledge and wisdom gained through decades of experimentation and invention. It was only because he was her maternal grandfather that no one other than Dumbledore knew her ancestry.

It was with understandable reluctance that Medina prepared to leave the common room for Professor Snape's classroom that evening. She had endured weeks of comments from the Ravenclaws she lived with; pertaining mostly to Snape's disdain for the students, the apparent enjoyment he receives from belittling them for their ignorance, his inability to find favor with them in any way. "Just forget about it Medina," Chris Parsons, another seventh year Ravenclaw, told her. "There won't be anything you can do right … it's just not possible with Snape. You could turn coal into diamonds and he'd still criticize you for the way you did it. So, just do what we all do – while he's yelling at you for being stupid and wasting his time, nod your head as if you understand and tell him you'll try harder next time. Then come back to the common room and spend at least ten minutes making fun of what a greasy-haired, great-nosed git he is." Although Medina appreciated her classmate's concern and found some relief from her tension in his chiding of Snape, she could not dispel the ache in her stomach caused by anticipation of this first lesson.

*

Medina's feeble knock on Severus' office door was met by an indeterminable silence. She could hear no movement behind the door, nor any in the nearby hall. She paused a few moments and then knocked again more loudly. "Come!" was all she heard from the gravelly, baritone voice that was unmistakably Professor Snape's. Crestfallen now that the brief, pleasant thought of his absence had passed, Medina quietly entered the Potion Master's chamber. It was dark and somewhat damp despite the fire in the grate; a pungent scent of what seemed to be vinegar, sulfur, and petrol filled the stale air. Most of the shelves that encircled the room held large dusty jars; each containing a dead creature floating preserved in cloudy, colored fluid. All remaining shelf space was consumed by equally dusty leather-bound books and indescribable trinkets. It was only after reaching the middle of the room that Medina saw Professor Snape seated behind his worn mahogany desk, his elbows supporting pale fingertips pressed together beneath his chin. "Good evening Sir," she said in a surprisingly steady voice that did not betray her nervousness. "Is it?" Snape replied with a hiss. Her eyes widened at this reply; the only reaction she gave to what she considered an undeservedly rude response to her greeting. Medina's mastery of English was better than it had been upon her arrival; however, it was hardly what one would consider polished when she asked, "I will put my things down for you now?" "Yes," Snape replied curtly, "that would be a lovely beginning now wouldn't it? Let me know if you need any help with that." Although her ability to speak English was limited, she had no trouble understanding the professor's sarcasm – it was just as she had feared; this was to be an evening filled with acrid comments and nasty looks. Unfortunately, her classmate's advice concerning how one should respond to Professor Snape did not apply at this moment, although she did smile briefly at the thought of saying 'Yes Sir, I understand, and I'll try harder next time you greasy-haired, great-nosed git.' "We will commence with a simple aptitude test meant to gauge the range of your abilities; to determine how remedially our lessons must begin," he dictated with a humorless smirk. "You have one hour to complete an engorgement potion," Professor Snape said. "You may begin."

After a few moments spent emptying her knapsack filled with potion-making supplies and equipment, Medina looked around the dank room in search of anything resembling a materials cabinet. As there are so many different ingredients used in potion-making, one could not possibly carry everything potentially called for; thus, an herb cabinet or chemical store is made available. Noticing her scanning the room, Professor Snape said abruptly, "What is it Miss de Muro? Having difficulty locating your cauldron?" Despite her desire to respond in kind, Medina replied, "Uh, no Sir. I was looking to find a potion storage," again struggling with the translation of her thoughts. Without expending the energy to make another snide comment, Snape raised his arm stiffly and pointed a long pale finger towards a doorway set within the classroom wall and obscured by shadows. "Thank you Sir," she replied to this stark gesture, and proceeded to gather what she needed to create the requested potion.

Thirty minutes passed in relative silence; only the sounds of Medina's knife cutting ginger root or crushing black beetle shells interrupted the scratching of Professor Snape's quill on parchment as he wrote furiously. Once Medina's potion reached the point where she was confident it would achieve the desired result, she extinguished the fire beneath her cauldron and siphoned off a few drops of the liquid; depositing them into a tiny crystal phial that she then stowed within her knapsack. Medina always saved a small portion of her potions, not only as a record of her work, but as a platform for future experimentation and research; this time, however, she saved a sample because she considered Professor Snape may manipulate her submission and render it a failure – she wanted proof of her success in light of this possibility. Severus, now taking notice of Medina's dampened fire, laid down his quill and stood up behind his desk. With a look of suspicion born from the fact that she'd finished well in advance of the allotted hour's time, Professor Snape joined Medina at her work table and transferred a portion of the engorgement potion to a phial of his own. "You may clear away your things and leave for tonight," he said quietly, gazing with contempt at what appeared to be a correctly brewed potion. With no words of farewell, Medina left the Potion Master's room and returned to her Ravenclaw dormitory; only too relieved to be away from Snape and his dungeon chamber.

The next three weeks' evening potions lessons proceeded much the same as the first night's; Professor Snape assigning progressively more difficult potions with progressively longer preparation spans, only to find Miss de Muro delivering them in perfect condition and half the allotted time. During the next several lessons she attended, Snape said no more than a few words to her; however, he no longer made biting, hurtful remarks either – a sign to Medina that he found her potion-making satisfactory. One Friday evening she thought she saw a brief, halted smile cross his lips as he evaluated her submission of perbeatus potion; a very difficult elixir to brew correctly, used to liven one's spirits and generate a feeling of happiness. When she turned to look at Professor Snape more clearly, the hint of his pleasure was gone and she was left to question whether she had only imagined the smile.

*

Once again Snape found himself winding smoothly up the spiraling stone staircase leading to Dumbledore's office, a look of mild annoyance on his face for having been called away from his personal preoccupations. The Headmaster's door was already open, relieving Snape of announcing himself. Upon entering the office, he found Professor Dumbledore balanced precariously on the ornate wooden railing encompassing the upper tier of bookshelves that surrounded the circular room; Dumbledore's left hand and right foot extended from his body as a means of providing balance, his right hand reaching up for a large, red leather-bound text. Severus neither spoke nor breathed for fear of startling the Headmaster and sending him crashing to the office floor. "Good evening Severus," Professor Dumbledore spoke in a strong, resonating voice, "thank you for coming. I will be down momentarily. Help yourself to a brandy won't you?" Still watching the Headmaster out of the corner of his eye, none too confident of Dumbledore's ability to remain in that uncertain position, Severus took a leaded glass snifter from the side table and poured himself a modest amount of the amber liquid. As Professor Dumbledore retrieved the targeted book and descended the tall wooden library ladder, he began the conversation intended to be the topic of this evening's meeting. "Oh, Severus, please have a seat. I just wanted to discuss Miss de Muro's progress," he said while lighting a fire beneath the carved stone mantle with a flick of his wand. Severus hesitated while looking down into the pool of warming brandy held between his hands and slowly said, "What specifically, Headmaster, are you interested in knowing?" Dumbledore smiled his warm, amused smile. "Come now Severus, it was hardly a trick question," he laughed. "How are the extra lessons proceeding? Is she demonstrating the talent I suspect she possesses?" Pausing only to ensure that his pale, stoic face would not reveal his feelings, Severus said, "She is quite capable of producing O.W.L. potions. We have only just begun N.E.W.T.-level potions, so I cannot comment as to her abilities with these intermediate concoctions. And, as for advanced potions, that obviously remains to be seen." The Headmaster may have been fooled by the hardened look Severus maintained, but his penetrating gaze discerned a hint of softness in Professor Snape's eyes, and he would be much mistaken if he believed Severus was not impressed with Medina's abilities. Not wishing to let Snape leave without at least a slight feeling of agitation (something Dumbledore knew was not a very mature thing to do, but enjoying it just the same), the Headmaster continued the conversation, "Have you taken the opportunity to discuss any of the formulae she's developed? Like the conversum potion for instance?" Again, the fiery emotion behind Severus' eyes betraying his stony exterior, "I hardly think that is appropriate at this time Headmaster. I've yet to complete my evaluation of her remedial abilities, much less entertain any fancy regarding potions of questionable origin." "Ah Severus," the Headmaster whispered, "I will, of course, not interfere with your methods; however, I would like it very much if you would read through this book." Dumbledore handed Severus the heavy leather text he'd removed from his library shelves upon Snape's arrival. "I think you will find much of the historical information quite interesting, and may even modify your approach to mentoring Miss de Muro." "I'll read this when I find some free time Headmaster; however, as you well know, that is something that I have very little of these days," Severus replied coldly. "Yes Severus, yes," he said smiling as he ushered Professor Snape through the oaken door, "and thank you again for coming … good night." With that, the heavy door closed softly behind Snape's back as he continued quietly down the stone spiral, returning ultimately to his private chambers.

*

The ancient text Dumbledore had given Snape lie facedown for weeks, untouched, upon Severus' bedside table; as if opening the book was itself an admission of ignorance – 'What could this book possibly contain that would affect my dealings with Miss de Muro?' he thought as he readied himself for bed one evening. The room's firelight reflected off the gilded pages and ornate finish of the leather binding, pulsating with the guttering of the flames. Knowing well that Professor Dumbledore often found childish enjoyment in teaching people a lesson, he hesitated to open the book, loath to provide the Headmaster with this satisfaction. 'Assuming, of course,' he thought, 'that this book contains anything other than folly.' Severus reached for the book and lifted it from the table; turning the text over to read its title: The Cradle of Alchemy by Mercurius Mancor. Not familiar with the book's title, but very familiar with its author, Severus opened the text and began to scan the introductory paragraph. While retiring to his bed to leaf through the book, a wicked sneer molded his face. Although he could somewhat interpret the few interlaced words written in Latin, the paragraph's meaning was lost to him as it was written in Mancor's native language. As if slapped in the face by an icy hand, Severus realized that in order to read this book he would have to create Medina's conversum potion. The obviousness of Dumbledore's trickery infuriated Severus – he could see the Headmaster in his mind's eye, chuckling silently to himself while he weighed the odds as to whether Severus would succumb to curiosity about the text and ask Medina for the key, or forego what could be a fascinating read in order to maintain his illusion of superiority. "Damn him," Severus hissed as he snapped the book shut and dropped it to the bedroom floor. Fighting the urge to expend any more energy on thoughts of the book, of de Muro, or of Professor Dumbledore, Severus stared blindly at the lamp-lit, jewel green drapes surrounding his bed and concentrated on the repetitions of potion-making (his equivalent of counting sheep); it was nearly midnight before he was overcome by a restless sleep.

*

Professor Snape entered the Great Hall much later than usual that Saturday morning, ashen-faced with dark circles beneath his eyes; a sneer held for the sunlight that shone through the many beveled glass windows. He ignored the few greetings offered by his Slytherin House students, looking at the plate of eggs and bacon before him as if he had not heard their words. It was as if he was suffering from a muggle hangover; head pounding in perfect rhythm with his heart, dry mouth and unfocused eyes. He would return to his office and retrieve some headache potion before leaving the school grounds for Sunderland today. He had planned this day-trip to the coast many months ago, but had since grown unenthusiastic at its arrival. He would now much prefer to remain alone in his chamber, occupied with his current research; but, he'd made an appointment with a colleague of sorts and felt it more boorish than he was comfortable with to cancel. He pushed his unfinished breakfast aside; bid a terse 'good morning' to Professor Vector seated next to him, and left in need of that headache potion. Upon approaching his office, Snape noticed a sliver of light escaping beneath its door. Sure that he'd left no lamp lit, he tentatively knelt down and pressed his eye against the keyhole hoping to discover the source of the intrusion. Much to his surprise and infuriation, he saw Medina working ardently over a steaming caldron. She withdrew a wand from beneath her skirt; a silk sleeve secured to her right thigh carried the wand and a silver knife while not in use. She then proceeded to stir the bubbling liquid unaware of Snape's presence. With a crash, Professor Snape threw the heavy wooden door aside and marched inside the room with a look of uncontrolled fury on his face, the headache roaring in his ears like an ocean tide. "How dare you enter this room without permission!" he yelled. Seeing the abject look of horror on Medina's face, her body rigid with shock, Snape uncharacteristically repressed further words of admonition, turned a stiffened arm toward the now open door and said seethingly, "Get out and do not return until – you – receive – my – authorization." Unable to stem the tears welling in her eyes, she fled the room without gathering her belongings, ran up the dungeon steps, and out onto the castle grounds. It was minutes before she'd stopped both running and crying, and found herself very near Hogwarts' Black Lake.

Snape repeatedly paced the classroom floor, barely conscious of Medina's potion now almost nothing more than crusted residue in the bottom of her cauldron, the flames beneath it coaxing the last hint of moisture from the mixture. He was still furious; furious at the perceived breech of his privacy, but still more furious at himself for the uncontrolled outburst. Despite her being fully in the wrong, Snape could not convince himself that bringing her to tears was justified. As he continued to pace in front of the fireplace, he heard a faint knock at the door. He crossed the classroom slowly, straightening his black wool tunic and brushing back his greasy hair, and found Professor Flitwick awaiting entry as he opened the door. Assuming that Medina had discussed Severus' rash outburst with Filius, Snape tentatively asked Flitwick to enter and offered him a chair near the fireplace. "Thank you Severus," Filius said as he took the seat. "How can you stand the draft down here? It chills me to the bone," the tiny professor exclaimed shivering. Taking this as a rhetorical question, Professor Snape continued, anticipating some sort of admonition from Flitwick, "I am exceedingly busy this morning Filius, so what is it that you've come for?" Professor Flitwick smiled as he continued to encircle his arms about his small body for warmth. "Oh, I was just checking in to see how our exchange student was coming along. She speaks very little, especially to me; but, with the amount of time she spends on her potions work, I assumed you would be the best person to tell me of her progress." Severus hesitated momentarily, scanning Flitwick's face for signs of a hidden agenda. Seeing none, Snape said, "Aside from her overly enthusiastic attitude which I find personally annoying, she is quite capable of producing remedial, and even intermediate, potions." "Overly enthusiastic you say?" questioned Professor Flitwick. "She must be fond of you Severus," he laughed, "because she's as quiet as a church mouse with the rest of us. Always pleasant, but very hushed indeed," he finished slowly. "We Ravenclaws assume she still struggles with her English and is so inundated with potions work that she can find no time to socialize; she seems quite lonely really. And again," Flitwick continued, "that is why I stopped by to ask your opinion of Medina's progress." Glaring slightly at Filius, Professor Snape said in a tone of finality, "I thought I'd just made that perfectly clear. Her potions work is satisfactory. As to why she chooses to irritate me with her exuberance and not you, I could not say." Professor Flitwick, having known Severus many years, grinned at Snape's falsely venomous reply. "Well then Severus, I'll leave you to your icy dungeon and your pungent potions," he said smiling, "and do enjoy your time with Medina if you can. She'll be here such a short time you know." Responding only with another poisonous glare, Snape escorted Professor Flitwick from the classroom and closed the door behind him with a sharp snap.

*

It had been hours since Professor Flitwick visited Snape's chambers, but the occupation of his thoughts with their discussion made that time pass imperceptibly. Staring endlessly into the glowing embers, a stern knock on the door roused him from his condition. "Come in," he said tersely as he rose from the fireside chair. It was Professor Flitwick again; however, he did not wear the cheerful look that usually shaped his face. "Oh Severus," he exclaimed breathlessly, "when did you last see Medina?!" Looking suspiciously at his little contemporary he said, "She arrived at my classroom very early this morning, but left abruptly upon my return." Snape was convinced from their earlier conversation that Medina had not told Filius of that morning's conflict and continued, "She became a bit upset and left after I asked her to not admit herself without my permission, but as to where she went, I have no idea." Professor Flitwick seemed consumed with worry as he said, "It's been hours since anyone has seen her in the castle. She's not been to Hogsmeade and doesn't know her way about the grounds. Oh heavens," he gasped, "I only hope she hasn't wandered into the Forbidden Forest!" With that, Flitwick rushed out of Severus' classroom and ascended the stairs to the main hall.

Feeling a sinking in his stomach caused by the realization that if Flitwick's suspicions were true he would be to blame, Professor Snape followed Filius up the staircase and out onto the castle grounds. Severus was amazed at the distance already put between them, knowing that Flitwick's stride was one quarter his own. He shouted for Filius to wait, but his voice was pushed away from Flitwick and the Forbidden Forest by the gusting wind against which he ran. Upon entering the forest, he continued to call for Filius, hoping to be heard now that the dense trees protected them from the gale. "Over here Severus!" he heard Flitwick say in a strong voice. "Don't go any further Filius," Snape called as he rushed to the sound of Flitwick's words. Seeing the tiny professor amongst the thick foliage made him appear smaller still, but the fierce look on Flitwick's face removed any question that he feared these dangerous surroundings. "Have you seen any evidence that she's been here?" Severus asked. "No. Nothing," Filius replied, "and I don't know whether to feel relieved or terrified." The pair continued to search among the edges of the forest for many long moments; but, convinced that Medina had not come this way, they turned to escape the darkness and find the protection of the familiar castle grounds. Along their return path, Flitwick and Snape scanned the horizon for any sign of Miss de Muro; she was nowhere in view. Neither said a word, but a palpable tension hung between them as they entered the castle. "Headmaster!" squeeked Professor Flitwick, "Albus, has Medina returned?" "No Filius, I'm afraid not," the Headmaster replied with a steady look, careful not to convey any worry that would exacerbate Flitwick's already panicked state. "I'm sure she's quite alright," he continued, "but I have called for Professors Sprout and McGonagall to assist us in locating her. Hagrid is on his way as well." Both women arrived in the Great Hall unaware of the reason for their summons, but quickly became attuned to the tension present there; Hagrid the massive groundskeeper followed. "What is it Albus?" asked Professor McGonagall. "Has something happened?" Again, turning a calm, steady gaze on his staff, the Headmaster said, "It would appear that Miss de Muro has wandered away from the castle and has been gone for quite a few hours. Professors Flitwick and Snape have already searched the Forbidden Forest for signs of her having gone there, but thankfully found none." Filius then spoke hastily, "Yes! And we didn't see her anywhere on the immediate grounds either and it's swiftly nearing nightfall!" "Now, now Professor … I hardly think it time for us to panic," said Professor Dumbledore. "Miss de Muro is, despite our tendency to forget, hardly a child. I agree that we need to find her quickly, but we can do so calmly. Severus, Minerva – would you please take broomsticks and search the further reaches of the grounds," the Headmaster instructed in a commanding tone. "Professors Sprout and Flitwick will accompany me in searching the castle. She may have already returned without our notice. Hagrid, please contact Bane and Firenze, they'll be able to inform us if she enters the forest; after which, please search the Black Lake." Everyone nodded in agreement and proceeded to their task without comment.

*

It was nearly one o'clock in the morning before Hagrid returned to the castle infirmary with Medina wrapped in his moleskin coat. Madam Pomfrey, the school medical witch, instructed Hagrid to tuck her into one of the hospital beds while she gathered her examination kit. Hagrid did so obediently, then quickly left to inform Professor Dumbledore that he had found the missing student. Moments later, the Headmaster, Professors Flitwick, Sprout and McGonagall following in his wake, entered the infirmary, concurrently relieved at Medina's return and worried at the condition in which they would find her despite Hagrid's words of assurance. "She'll be fine," said Madam Pomfrey intercepting the arriving staff. "She's got a rather severe case of exposure and a broken ankle, but she's resting quietly now and I wish to keep her that way. Where did Hagrid find her?" she continued, "he didn't say." The Headmaster responded, "Hagrid did not take the time to tell us that either Poppy, he just told us that he'd found her and that she was alright and presently in your care. I was hoping to speak with him later about the details." It was then that Professor Flitwick edged his way around the group and parted the curtains surrounding Medina's bed. He turned quietly and asked Madam Pomfrey, "Poppy, would it be alright if I stayed through the night with her in case she wakes? I'd hate for her to be frightened, finding herself here in the infirmary alone." "Of course you may Filius, I'll get you a comfortable chair," she replied warmly. "Everyone else, I'll let you know at breakfast how's she's doing," said Madam Pomfrey sternly; indicating that it was time for them to return to their own quarters for what was left of the night. It was then that she noticed Professor Snape was not in their company and said, "Where is Severus? Wasn't he with you Minerva?" "We flew in opposite directions Poppy, hoping to cover more ground. I'm sure he's back by now … I'll let him know that we've found Miss de Muro." With that, the staff thanked Madam Pomfrey for her kindness and left to retire to what remained of their nights' sleep.

The morning arrived with everyone except Professors McGonagall and Snape seated for breakfast in the Great Hall. Madam Pomfrey had informed the staff that Miss de Muro was awake and recovering well, but would not be joining them for a few days while her ankle fully repaired. Professor Sprout and the Headmaster listened while Hagrid clumsily recalled the previous evening's search. "Well," he began, "after I asked the Centaurs to keep an eye out for her, I started walkin' 'round the Black Lake toward the north hills. Musta been an hour or more before I decided to wander up The Crag, just to make sure she hadn't gone there," Hagrid continued. "I was makin' my way back down you see, when I noticed what looked like her silvery hair down one of them fissures, reflectin' in the moon light. Good thing she ain't raven-haired or I'da never seen her down there." Sheepishly, Hagrid then said, "Now I knows I ain't supposed to use magic Headmaster, but there weren't no way I could get down to her otherwise." Professor Dumbledore smiled, nodded his head in understanding, and coaxed Hagrid to continue the story with a wave of his hand. "So I brought her up and found her leg badly broken. She wasn't awake, but she wasn't sleepin' either 'cause she was sorta mumblin' something, so I got her back to the castle fast as I could. Madam Pomfrey took her and … well, that's all," he concluded with an absent look, as if he should have had more to say. "Hagrid," whispered Professor Dumbledore, "we are certainly very glad that you thought to go up to The Crag. I did not consider that Medina would have ventured that far in so short a time … you're the hero of the day for it, and we thank you." Were it not for Hagrid's thick, coarse beard, surely those seated next to him would have seen his cheeks redden with embarrassment and pride.

*

Although Professor McGonagall checked periodically throughout the very early morning for Professor Snape's arrival, it was not until six a.m. that she saw the broomstick leaning against a wall near his office. Minerva tapped lightly on Severus' chamber door, leaning close to hear whether the Potions Master was awake upon returning from their flight about the grounds. "Severus?" she said. "Severus, are you there?" The only reply she received was the sound of the bolt being drawn back and the creak of its hinges as the door opened the smallest amount. Pushing the heavy door open further, Professor McGonagall quietly said, "Severus … Hagrid has found Miss de Muro. She's with Poppy. She'll be fine." Again, receiving no response from Professor Snape, Minerva edged further into the room. Severus stood facing the fireplace with his back to the door; his pale hands gripping the stone mantle. The flames rendered only his tall silhouette to the rest of the room. It was the slump of his shoulders and bowed head that told Minerva something was wrong. "Severus," she said again, "what is it, what's wrong?" The deafening pause between them was broken as Professor Snape turned, eyes fixed on the hearth rug, "I am what is wrong Minerva," was all he provided. Professor McGonagall was now feeling a pressing sense of discomfort, like that experienced when one stumbles upon another caught in an embarrassing situation. She hesitated to speak, instead waiting for Snape to continue, which he did. "Do you know why Miss de Muro went missing Minerva?" Not having considered anything other than the young lady's wish to walk about the countryside she said, "I assumed Medina decided to take a walk in the hills and got lost. Why?" Still focusing on the hearth rug, unable to look at Minerva, Snape exhaled sharply and said, "It is without doubt that Miss de Muro decided to take a walk in the hills and got lost; however, it is also without doubt that she did so because I drove her from my chamber that morning with unnecessarily harsh words. And why?" he continued, as if only to himself. "Just because she had admitted herself to the classroom without permission – she was spending her Saturday morning potion-making." "Oh," said Minerva hesitantly, not sure what her response should be to Snape's uncharacteristic honesty. "Well, I'm sure it wasn't all that. Everyone has noticed how hard she's been working here … we get tired, too tired, then we get emotional – I'm sure that's all it was Severus. And besides, she's quite fine now and back where she belongs." Again, Snape offered no reply, only turning his back to Minerva, once more facing the fire. Professor McGonagall retreated from the room, closing the large door quietly behind her, and returned to the Great Hall for the remainder of breakfast.

*

Medina returned to the Ravenclaw common room on Monday morning feeling well physically, but rather embarrassed by having created such a stir. "What made you decide to go mountain climbing all of a sudden?" her classmate asked with a jaunty smile, hoping to cheer Medina up. "When we take off out of here, it's usually straight to Hogsmeade and Honeyduke's Sweetshop!" he continued happily. "We'll take you there instead the next time you feel up to doing something dangerous." "Like swimming a few laps with the giant squid in the Black Lake or playing cricket with the Centaurs in the Forbidden Forest!" another Ravenclaw added with a grin. Everyone in the common room laughed and made an effort to welcome Medina back from her spell in the infirmary, cheering her up somewhat; but, there remained an obvious sadness behind her startlingly blue eyes. She made pale excuses for why she would not be joining them for breakfast that morning, and made her way to that part of the library she frequently hid herself in under the guise of study. Today was Monday, which meant that tomorrow she was scheduled for another after-hours potions class; however, she was none too sure whether she should attend, whether she wanted to attend. It was nearly noon before Medina decided to address a post owl to Professor Snape regarding their standing appointment, within which she suggested they forego any further meetings. She tried to express herself such that Professor Snape would feel no continued obligation on his part, but she knew that her inability to write the English words correctly may provoke a different response. 'No matter,' she thought to herself coldly. 'I hardly think the professor will object to the break.' After dispatching the owl, she returned to her section of the library, the section conveniently forbidden to nearly all other students, to absorb herself once again in seclusion.

*

As if Albus Dumbledore was annoyingly, continually aware of everything that transpires within Hogwarts' walls, Professor Snape once more found himself called to the Headmaster's office to answer questions regarding Miss de Muro. "So Severus, you are no longer working independently with Medina?" Dumbledore questioned despite already knowing the answer. "It was not by my suggestion Headmaster. Miss de Muro felt that the additional requirements were a distraction from her other studies," Snape replied hastily, "and I quite agree. Everyone has noticed her fatigue," he added quietly. "Besides, I'm woefully behind on my own research. This will be best for both of us," he finished unconvincingly. With a change of topic that was both startling and confusing, Professor Dumbledore said, "There's something about her eyes; they're difficult to look at." Snape remained silent with a furrowed brow, unsure where this statement came from or what its purpose could be. "They're so clear and bright … all you can see is yourself in them," Albus mused airily. Turning to scan Professor Snape's face momentarily, the Headmaster continued in what appeared to be yet another disjointed direction, "I'd have thought everything would be quite obvious after having read the book I gave you." "Headmaster," Snape growled with impatience at this rambling conversation, "you know full well that the book you gave me is written in something other than English." Professor Dumbledore resumed walking about his office, fiddling periodically with one of the many metallic trinkets on tables here and there. "Odd Severus. Medina has been administering herself conversum potion these many months in order to understand you …," he stated in a progressively diminishing voice, yet saying no more. As if this day were to be a succession of punctuated defeats, Professor Snape grumbled something of an understanding and excused himself from the Headmaster's office.

*

Another three days passed without word from either Albus or Miss de Muro. Normally, the solitude, the quiet, the control over his environs would be cause for contentment; but, somehow things were different now. It was unlike Professor Snape to catch himself staring abjectly for hours, grasping to identify and isolate that which was bothering him as if it were a chronic condition. His routine classes provided no relief from this self-indulgence – endless hours spent with students who lacked the understanding or desire to excel; the same faces, the same lessons, the same improperly brewed potions … was it today, or yesterday, or tomorrow? 'I must concede,' he thought abruptly. Removing the copy of Medina's conversum potion formula from the jumble of parchment in his cabinet, Severus proceeded to review and absorb its content. He was ashamedly amazed at the subtle, yet complex combination of ingredients that allowed Medina to thus far understand all that he said. 'Or should not have said,' he thought to himself with a frown. Although it would take several days to obtain some of its more unique ingredients, this potion could be brewed in only a few hours. So, Professor Snape sent his request by owl to the Diagon Alley apothecary, hoping to receive these specialty items more quickly having deposited a few extra gold coins with the list. Finding his gaze now resting on The Cradle of Alchemy laying on the fireplace mantle, Snape stifled his desire to begin leafing through the book despite knowing its pages remained a mystery; instead returning to his desk to resume drafting his next week's lesson plan.

Medina, now more familiarly called Mina by her classmates, awoke with the exposed pages of Darke Developments in the Alchemical Arts stuck to her cheek; having once again fallen asleep barricaded within stacks of ancient text books. Although no longer a threat to wander and become lost or injured, her near permanent seclusion amongst the restricted section texts was now cause for Albus' concern. "I'm not worried that she'll use the material inappropriately Filius," Professor Dumbledore said reassuringly. "I'm just uneasy with the distance she's placed between herself and everyone else." Professor Flitwick, seated in the Headmaster's office said, "Yes Albus, I've seen this too; but, whenever I speak to Medina about it, she repeatedly tells me that she wants nothing more than to read the books that will no longer be available to her once she returns home." Filius continued, "Minerva has spoken to her as well. Medina gives her the same story." "Well," said the Headmaster pensively, "maybe it is time that I speak with her; find out if having distanced myself from her was the right thing to do. Thank you Filius, I'll let you know if there is anything you can do to help."

*

The three extra gold galleons having done the trick, Professor Snape's apothecary order arrived two days earlier than anticipated. As it was Friday, he would have an uninterrupted weekend to brew the potion and experiment with its properties. He still struggled with the discordant feelings of curiosity, prideful anger, anxiety, and embarrassment caused by the existence of this potion, but he was nonetheless determined to answer the questions raised by Dumbledore; the questions that subconsciously consumed his thoughts. Snape re-read the formula and the sequence of steps that should lead to his ability to understand Mercurius Mancor. He portioned out the required ingredients and staged them in the order dictated by the parchment. Again, Snape marveled at the subtlety, the near poetry of this potion. When the mixing was complete and the time to simmer begun, Severus retired to his personal study with the all too familiar headache kept alive behind his eyes. He inverted the large hour glass on his writing desk, careful to not allow himself to doze off and the conversum potion brew too long. Not more than a single moment seemed to pass, but the hour glass betrayed this perception; the last few grains of sand falling through the thin crystal neck into its base. Professor Snape returned to the potions chamber and extinguished the fire beneath his cauldron. The elixir within appeared to have reached the correct state; its color ice blue, its consistency thin and clear – it reminded him of its inventor's eyes.

Severus poured a fair amount of the potion into a china cup, sniffed its fumes, and bolted the warm liquid down. Acutely aware of his body, prepared for any sign of a reaction, Professor Snape stood gripping the worktable, marking the passing of time silently in his head. 'Well,' he thought flatly, 'I suppose if I'd bungled it, I'd know by now.' Snape whisked away the remains of the ingredients, put his cauldron back in the cabinet, pulled Mancor's book off the mantle and sat behind his mahogany desk. Upon opening the leather cover to read the first paragraph, an overwhelming dizziness wrapped around his head like a heavy blanket; a tight spasm followed in his stomach, and a high pitched ringing filled his ears. Worried now that something had gone horribly wrong with the potion, he steadied himself against the desktop, trying not to vomit from the nausea this dizziness brought with it. He gasped as the ringing in his ears became the deafening echo of his heartbeat, which raced from panic. Forcing himself to breathe deeply and rhythmically, Severus closed his eyes and watched the image of the firelight spin in his mind. Then, as suddenly as it began, the dizziness subsided and the nausea dissipated; however, he was left with the echo of his pounding heart resounding in his ears. "My God," he whispered aloud, these words also echoing loudly and repeatedly in his head as if he had shouted them across a canyon. All other apparent side-effects of the conversum potion began falling away, yet he was left with the infuriating echo produced by the sound of his own voice. 'I wonder how long this will last,' he thought, picking up Mancor's text once more. With a startling realization, like a switch being thrown, Severus could now read not only the first, but every paragraph lying in front of him. He was embarrassed by the surprise; 'this is the point of the potion,' he thought foolishly.

It was well past the dinner hour before the sound of his stomach forced Snape to close the book. "Truly remarkable," he said quietly, immediately realizing that his assumption about the echo's inevitable dissipation was a false one. Once again he found himself irrationally saddened with the thought that Medina had subject herself to these conditions for the past several months only to be rewarded with his shamefully harsh treatment. 'Damn him for withholding this from me,' Severus thought of Dumbledore. It was easier to blame the Headmaster for this situation, for what Snape saw as Albus' endless game playing, than to admit that these ill feelings were of his own creation. 'If he'd just been forthcoming about Miss de Muro or that book…' Another time, perhaps, he would acknowledge that Albus was indeed forthcoming, and much more. Sensing his anger building, he derailed these emotions once again and opened Mancor's book, continuing to read despite his protesting stomach. There were so many new potions contained in the text that Snape found himself scribbling furiously on the parchment tucked next to it. It was as if he were an explorer stumbling through an ancient city, long lost to the modern world. Hours passed like minutes as Severus devoured the book's secrets. This was obviously a hand-written, hand-bound text and, as such, the only copy; lending further to its mystique. Professor Snape was careful not to mar the pages or fatigue the binding while he paged feverishly through the remainder of the evening and well into the night. Oddly, like many traditional modern printings, this text contained a short biography of the author at its conclusion. When Severus reached these pages, his eyes were immediately drawn to the words de Muro written beneath several branches of a pictorial family tree. Mercurius Mancor married Felicity de la Vaal, and begot Eleanor Mancor, who married Lorenzo de Muro and gave birth to Medina de Muro. "Mancor was Medina's grandfather!" he uttered; the conversum potion repeating his words, driving the comprehension of their meaning further into his head. Professor Snape stared at the family tree, the feelings of embarrassment brought about by this awareness pouring over him like a sheet of cold rain. He closed the book, but continued to stare at it lying in his lap. 'Now what?' he thought. The wood in the fireplace had grown dark and cold before Severus finally returned the book to his worn desk and ambled back to his personal chambers; certain that he would be no more successful in answering that simple question lying in bed than he had been sitting in front of the dampening fire.

*

It was nearly the weekend again when Professor Snape received the small parchment tied to the post owl's leg. He thought he vaguely recognized the handwriting, but seeing so many students' submissions it could have been anyone's. He unrolled the letter and flattened it out upon his desk, drawing the oil lamp closer to illuminate the message.

Professor Snape,

As there are so few weeks remaining before my return home, I feel it would be a misuse of my opportunity at Hogwarts to not resume our tutorials. I apologize for those past occurrences that may have caused you irritation and ensure they will not be repeated.

I am anxious for your decision, but await it patiently.

Medina de Muro

The unexpected request produced something of a lurch in his stomach. He certainly had not expected Medina to consider returning after everything that had transpired, but his heart was inexplicably lightened at the prospect. Not wanting to appear overly anxious at her return, knowing now that she possessed many of Mancor's secrets, he decided to delay his reply until Friday.

*

The end of the school week could not come soon enough for Medina. Her self-inflicted purgatory was diluting her very personality; but, it was this pain that kept her rooted in reality. Feelings of love, joy, and happiness weren't real – they never could be, so she clung to her melancholy like a comfortable possession. Medina craved the weekend because it was then that she could disappear into the restricted section completely and without interruption. It was far easier, far less tiring, to be surrounded by books; books that did not demand a cheerful smile or happy demeanor. The light tap on her shoulder jarred Medina from her thoughts. It was Madam Pince, the librarian, with a wax-sealed parchment. "Here," she whispered waspishly, "Professor Snape asked me to give you this when you failed to turn up for dinner this evening." Medina looked at the parchment and took it with a sense of anxiety; it had been so many days since that last encounter. "Thank you Madam Pince," she replied as she tucked the letter into her knapsack. It was several hours before Medina retrieved the parchment and broke its black wax seal.

Miss de Muro,

I agree. Please plan on resuming the tutorials next Tuesday. I will be available this Saturday as well, should you remain in the castle and require additional instruction.

Professor S. Snape

Medina stared confusedly at the note, re-reading it several times. 'I agree,' she thought to herself. 'I agree with what?' Medina found the note to be very odd indeed, but did not want to spite the opportunity to once again receive Snape's additional instruction. Although she found him pompous and arrogant, she did recognize that he was a very gifted potion-maker and inferred from the message that his attitude towards her may be more forgiving. As she would, like all other weekends, remain at the castle, Medina intended on arriving at Professor Snape's classroom early on Saturday to capture what time was left of her term at Hogwarts.

As planned, Medina knocked on Professor Snape's door at precisely eight o'clock Saturday morning. "Come!" he replied loudly and on the first knock. As if it were their first meeting, Medina opened the large wooden door slowly, peering into the classroom lit with a single oil lamp. "Good morning Sir," she said as she crossed the stone floor to take up her position at the worktable. "Good morning Miss de Muro," he replied neither nicely nor rudely. Having taken more conversum potion before the morning's lesson, Professor Snape's bland response rang in his ears repeatedly. "Let us begin," he continued, "with a potion of your own making shall we?" Assuming her own dose of conversum potion was wearing off prematurely, she cocked her head and said, "Excuse me Sir?" assuming that she'd misunderstood his statement. Adding an arched eyebrow to his slight smirk, Snape said again, "You heard me correctly Miss de Muro. I would like you to make a potion of your choosing – one that you've invented." Shocked at the realization that he was using the conversum potion, his words filtering through her ears in Catalan, and at his recommendation that they brew one of her own potions, she found no reply; but proceeded to take a random scrap of parchment from her knapsack. It was her delectatio serum; one intended to allow the user to dream of anything they desired. She had invented it with her grandfather near the end of his life; him hoping that it would give her sweet dreams to balance her waking nightmares. "So," he continued, "what have you chosen for us?" Now able to speak in her native language, she was no longer forced to slowly and carefully consider how to translate her thoughts. "This is the delectatio serum; A bit of a dangerous one – addictive if you're not careful." Professor Snape was intrigued by her use of the word 'dangerous' and smirked again, but this time with a hint of pleasure in his eyes. "Please continue," he said. "What are its properties, its history?" Medina paused momentarily to consider how much information she should reveal; Snape inviting her confidence did not imply that he had changed his attitude towards her. "My grandfather and I developed this serum prior to his death. It was to be a parting gift if you will - its creation and the precious time spent together in its conception." Seeing her hesitate, Professor Snape quietly said, "Interesting … and what is its purpose?" Looking slightly embarrassed, Medina began to tell of the serum's properties. "This elixir allows you to either determine what it is you'd like to dream about and then proceed to do so; or, if you do not make a conscious decision, the serum will play out whatever your subconscious desires. I know it's a very indulgent potion, but Grandfather knew it would help me cope with difficult times," she finished in a whisper. Feeling that he had inadvertently intruded too far into her personal life, Professor Snape said, "Well then, let us get to work. How long are the preparation and curing times?" Glad that Snape diverted the conversation, Medina quickly offered, "Both are relatively short, less than one day combined; Grandfather didn't want me waiting," she said with a smile. It was with quiet contentment that both Professor Snape and Medina spent the remaining hours of the day brewing the delectatio serum. When its preparation was complete and the time of its curing begun, Professor Snape said, "Why did you never tell me that Mancor was your grandfather?" Medina had expected this question, but was still unprepared to answer. Fixing her eyes on the worktable as she cleared away the unused ingredients she said, "I felt nothing positive could possibly come from your knowing." "How so?" Severus asked. "You would react like everyone else, with either unreasonable expectations that could never be met, or worse, with pity;" she said this last word with contempt. "I'm afraid I know far less of your history than you presume Miss de Muro," Severus said in a quiet voice, hoping she would continue. "Professor, I came here to study – potion-making primarily. I hardly thought revealing the knowledge I possess regarding your dark alliances and my less than happy memories would facilitate that," she stated loudly, turning her eyes away from his and back to the worktable. Professor Snape was jarred by this statement, as was undoubtedly Medina's intention, and said, "Once more Miss de Muro, you have me at a disadvantage." Setting the cauldron and herb satchel back down, Medina turned those painfully clear blue eyes upon Snape and said, "Professor, my past and yours intertwine, though you obviously don't know this – or at least you well play that part." Bristling at the perceived insult, Snape said nothing. Medina continued, "Your Dark Lord brought about not only my grandfather's death, but the curse that made the delectatio serum ever my necessity."

The drumming silence pressed upon Professor Snape as he stood frozen at the worktable. He played back hundreds of images in his mind of the unspeakable things he bore witness to during the time he followed Lord Voldemort; but, he could find no shard that expanded on the things of which Medina spoke. Pausing a moment further, Snape collected his thoughts, straightened his tunic, and said gently, "Miss de Muro, I've no right to ask you to tell me further of this history; but, I truly have no knowledge of either of these acts." Returning from the storage cabinet, small tears evident on her cheeks, Medina said with a bitter expression, "Sir, unlike some, when Voldemort called for his services, my grandfather refused. He was considered lucky actually," she added with a mirthless laugh. "Voldemort spared his life." Medina walked to the fireplace mantle and caressed the cold stone with her fingers, keeping her back to Professor Snape. "Instead, your lord cursed the one thing in life he loved more than any other – me – and, in short, it was more than Grandfather could bear. He survived only a few months longer, incapable of living with the knowledge that he was the cause of what would be pain for the rest of my life." Confident that there could not possibly be anything he could say in response to this divulgence, Professor Snape walked silently from the room, closing the wooden door on Medina as she remained absently stroking the mantle.

*

Much to Severus' surprise, Medina knocked sharply on his office door promptly at seven p.m. three days later, at the time of their scheduled Tuesday evening tutorial. He had not considered that she would return after their emotional conversation the previous lesson, and was apprehensive upon biding her entry. She looked at him with a brief smile and said, "Good evening Professor," making her way to her usual worktable. Thinking that this girl was somehow remarkable, he tried to respond casually but found that he could say nothing. Leaning back in his desk chair, Snape cleared his throat and asked, "What is it that you would like to work on this evening Miss de Muro?" As if none of the words spoken three nights prior were ever uttered she said, "I would like to attempt the universitas abeo potion." Although his time spent reading the potions books held in the library's restricted section was not as extensive as Medina's, Professor Snape was very familiar with this elixir and its diabolical nature. "I'm quite confident that you are aware of this school's policy on making such a potion Miss de Muro." Circling the worktable and crossing the distance between them, Medina uncharacteristically sat on the edge of the professor's desk and stared into his pale face. "You of all people can't possibly be serious," she said. "We both know you are one of the few with the ability to properly brew this one; and please," she implored, "for my remaining time here, could you please stop calling me Miss de Muro? It makes me uncomfortable." He could certainly understand the feeling of discomfort as her words and proximity elicited this same feeling in him now. Knowing her selection of the universitas abeo potion was not random, Severus rose from his desk chair and proceeded to the bookshelf nearest him. "Let us try this one instead," he said as he pulled a volume of advanced potions from the dusty shelf; bating Medina to explain her motives for wanting to create the other. "Sir," she responded quickly and predictably, "why would you waste our time with a potion either of us could make with no effort?" Not quite the vehement response he was hoping for; however, her reply did provide another avenue for query. "Are you implying that your alchemical talents are such that even this advanced potion is beneath your consideration now that you have been given the choice?" Finally catching on to Professor Snape's game, Medina said, "Oh no Sir. I just assumed that you had taken the Headmaster's request to broaden my knowledge seriously. If you would rather spend our time grinding out rudimentary potions, then I will object no further." Torn between being impressed with her confidence to spar with him and his knowing he could not allow her to so freely and openly express disrespect for an instructor, he turned on Medina and ushered her from the classroom in his familiar way; with a raised arm pointing toward the exit. But, this time, he kept his gaze upon the floor, poorly concealing a smirk, and said, "Come up with a more appropriate attitude and potion selection for Friday. Now, good evening."

*

It was only Tuesday night, not even midweek and Severus was tired; tired physically, but not mentally – still unaccustomed to the insomnia even after so many years. He could always take dreamless sleep potion, as he had in the past when the periods of restlessness grew unbearable, but this was only the third successive night's unrest; 'nothing to concern myself with yet,' he thought lying on his sofa with an open book across his chest. It was the headache behind his eyes, once again keeping him company, which drove him to his potion stores for relief. Absently shuffling the small phials of liquid around on each shelf while searching for the headache potion, his hand hesitated over a small crystal orb containing an iridescent yellow solution – the delectatio serum. He had not yet tried Medina's invention, but rather had forgotten about it as a result of the conversation that followed its making. Trusting that there may be side effects to this potion as there were with her conversum potion, but having no fear that they would be any worse, he took the crystal orb from the shelf and returned to his private chambers. He noticed that the solution felt oddly warm to the touch, but its odor was sweet, like that of a damp hay field. Severus debated for a few moments longer about taking a dose of the potion, recalling Medina's description of it being both dangerous and addictive; nevertheless, Medina had made it clear that she'd found it neither after having taken it many times herself. Pouring a few drops into a sterling teaspoon, Snape eyed the solution one last time before putting the spoon in his mouth and swallowing the liquid. Again, as was with the conversum potion, nothing happened immediately. Severus decided, however, that it would be wise to lie back down on the sofa in case a similar bout of dizziness accompanied this potion. Many more minutes passed with no apparent effect; so, somewhat disappointed, Professor Snape resumed reading the book he had set aside earlier.

There was a soft knock at Severus' chamber door. A quick look at the time piece on his mantle showed that it was nearly one o'clock in the morning. Rising from the sofa, his book falling forgotten to the floor, Professor Snape quickly wrapped himself in a black cotton robe and crossed the room; curious to find who would be calling at so inconsiderate an hour. Opening the door just a crack, he was stunned to see Medina standing there, framed in a black robe of her own; silk instead of cotton. Her liquid-silver blond hair was swept behind one ear and she wore a look of soft shyness on her face. Snape found that he was frozen, unable to either speak or open the door to her further. Medina smiled awkwardly, but fixed a look of determination in her eyes as she silently pushed the chamber door open and glided into his room. So many thoughts were now turning in Snape's head. They consumed him and rendered him both speechless and powerless to do anything other than close the door and turn to face her. He shut his eyes, and then opened them once more trying to dispel this illusion, but now found Medina rooted in the middle of his bedroom with a suggestive smile upon her lips. "Mina?" was all he could whisper reflexively. With each step she took toward him, he mirrored one in reverse until he found his back resting against the chamber door. Medina continued to say nothing while dropping her silk robe to the floor as she approached him; revealing a matching black nightgown beneath it. Severus closed his eyes again, tilting his head back against the door as he felt Medina's warm hands encircle his body. He gasped as she began trailing her lips softly along his neck. He could feel her cheek against his own as she ran her fingers through his long black hair, and could do nothing to prevent his reaching out and wrapping her body in his arms. A distant ringing now invaded the exchange. With his head spinning, realizing now that he was lying on the sofa hearing his morning alarm sound, he sat up quickly and winched as the book he had been reading fell upon his foot. He clumsily located the clock and silenced its shrill alarm, finally finding his way to the bathroom sink. Severus splashed volumes of cold water onto his face, but found himself unsuccessful at eliminating the feelings of arousal and confusion trapped within him.

After an unusually long shower, Professor Snape donned his black woolen robes and trademark scowl, heading to his classroom for what was sure to be an intolerable day of teaching. He had no time to further consider this dream right now, nor did he feel comfortable doing so, but it would be the first incompetent student of the day that would pay the price for his cornered emotions. The third-year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins were successful in escaping their lesson unscathed, but it was Franklin Thomas of Ravenclaw that received the brunt of Snape's frustration that afternoon. It was obvious to the students that their professor was behaving oddly. Although he traditionally gave more detentions than any other professor and demanded far worse punishment for simple infractions, it was nearly unheard of for Professor Snape to permanently expel a student from his class. Franklin had done nothing more than suggest they make love potions; however, Snape reacted as if he had spouted a string of obscenities against his dead mother. "Get out of this classroom and do not return! Ever!" Professor Snape yelled. In the time it took Franklin to gather his belongings and wipe the look of astonishment from his face Snape continued, "And make sure you stop by the Headmaster's office to let him know that you have been dismissed from your potions classes and require a substitute." "Yessssir," was all that Franklin stuttered as he backed nervously from the classroom. The remaining entirety of Snape's day was split between two activities – glaring at anyone that came within arms length and watching the clock as it crept toward the day's conclusion. Among dealing with inept students, his jumbled emotional state, his painful lack of time to concentrate on private potions research, and his ever-present headache, Professor Snape found that he was desperately in need of a holiday. As there were no scheduled breaks in sight, Severus would have to settle with long periods of seclusion when possible, and milling featureless daydreams inside his head to distract him from these annoyances.

Professor Snape found Wednesday night to be just as Tuesday night had been; insomnia keeping vigil as he read something mundane on the sofa. Tonight, however, he indulged only in headache potion prior to retiring to his quarters, still somewhat ashamed of the previous night's dream. As Severus propped a pillow behind his shoulders, his ears registered a soft knock at the chamber door. Instinctively, Snape looked at the clock; it was nearing midnight. As if Tuesday night's scene was being performed in perfect repetition, Medina stood at the door again, dressed as she was in her silk robe and nightgown. The only difference between this night and last being that it began one hour earlier. Professor Snape's dream continued as it had before, but progressed further owing to its midnight start. Once more reeling in the feel of Medina's touch, the smell of her hair, and the passionate look in her eyes, Snape found himself rendered fantastically immobile; only able to gasp her name. As she continued to trail soft kisses down his neck, her fingers found the buttons of his nightshirt and began to undo them; Severus only able to dig his nails into the chamber door to steady himself. Medina's hands traveled tenderly over his chest, her mouth leaving kisses in their wake as she returned to run her fingers through his hair; now whispering, "I've wanted you for so long Severus," as she pressed her cheek against his. But her whisper ended with the alarm's familiar ring that once again broke the night's spell. This time he was consumed with agitation instead of the embarrassment he'd felt the night before. It occurred to him that he had taken none of the delectatio serum – he should never have slipped back into this dream. Silencing the alarm once more, he returned to the sofa and sat down, head braced between clammy hands. Trying to distance himself from his emotions, Snape began to reason through the situation as if it were a particularly tricky potion formula. 'The only person who has any experience with the effects of this potion is Miss de Muro,' he contemplated, careful not to use her name in the familiar lest it distract his thoughts further. 'Tomorrow evening, I will simply ask her whether this is an unusual phenomenon, using a vague reference if she questions me about the dream's content.' It was then that he gathered himself up from the sofa and proceeded to prepare for this dawning day, pretending as if it were any other, but hoping he would not see Miss de Muro prior to Friday's tutorial.

*

"Severus," began Professor Dumbledore, "was it absolutely necessary to expel Franklin from your class? What on Earth occurred that would merit such a stern response?" Professor Snape hesitated momentarily before saying, "Headmaster, Mr. Thomas' repeated, impertinent attitude showed no sign of discontinuing despite my more subtle efforts at discipline. Regardless, it is odd for you to intercede other than to arrange for alternate class scheduling. Why the sudden interest in this case?" The Headmaster turned a harsh eye on Severus and said, "I understand that you are under an unusual amount of pressure this year with the extra burdens on your time, but I would appreciate it if you never again imply that I am not at all times interested in and concerned with my students." Understanding that he had crossed over the implicit line between Headmaster and staff, Professor Snape respectfully continued, "Sir, I in no way meant to say either of those things; however, you must admit that it is extraordinary for you to intervene in one of your staff member's classroom proceedings." Albus responded more compassionately, "Severus, how long will we work together before you can trust that my intentions are what they seem?" Professor Snape turned a look of contrived confusion on the Headmaster and said, "Sir, if you would prefer I readmit Mr. Thomas to my class I will, naturally, honor that request." Professor Dumbledore, with a look of disappointment at his Potion Master's intentional lack of acknowledgement of the real issue at hand, merely nodded his head and raised his hand to indicate that Severus could now leave. Returning angrily to his chambers, Professor Snape descended the stone steps to the dungeon. The dinner hour was approaching and would lead to this evening's tutorial session, but Severus was far too busy today to spare the time for a meal. Already on edge from his conversation with Dumbledore, he indulged in a glass of brandy to suppress the annoyance and help calm his nerves; he did not want tonight's lesson to be diverted or distracted by his emotions. He was still uneasy and uncertain as to how he would speak with Medina about the odd reoccurrence of his dream, having only taken one dose of the elixir.

*

Medina's familiar soft knock on the classroom door startled Professor Snape from his preparations. "Come in please," he said firmly. As any other evening spent together, Medina entered the room and proceeded to place her things on the worktable. "What shall we have tonight?" said Professor Snape. Medina replied slyly, "How about … the universitas abeo?" Knowing that Medina expected him to respond harshly, Severus decided to joust a bit before bringing an end to any further requests to produce this potion. "So whose life do you intend to take with it?" he asked casually. Surprised at this question, as Snape had expected, she hesitated and said dispassionately, "Well, my own of course." Severus found that he could say nothing as her words echoed through the conversum potion. With a cold feeling in his stomach, Professor Snape took a seat behind his desk and stared at Medina who appeared to have said something completely innocuous as she continued to organize her potion-making supplies. "If your intention was to silence me," said Severus, "then you may consider yourself successful." "You asked me a simple question and I gave you a simple, honest answer. Were you really expecting something different?" she asked. Unsure as to where he wanted this conversation to proceed, Severus carefully replied, "Miss de Muro … Medina. A response like that implies that you have a very serious issue to discuss. I would be happy to do so with you, but would also offer you the opportunity to do so with the Headmaster instead." With a smile that conveyed something of pity, Medina said, "Professor, my private life is just that. I don't wish to discuss the impossibility of my having a 'happily-ever-after' with anyone. I requested we prepare the universitas abeo potion. Now, you either will or will not assist me in doing so – quite simple really." Professor Snape was astonished at this lady's calculated, emotionless statement; not knowing how to continue for fear of indulging a very destructive commentary. "Medina, before we discuss your request further," Severus said hoping to redirect the conversation, "I would like your opinion on the side effects of the delectatio serum." Seemingly un-phased by this tactical adjustment, Medina said brightly, "I didn't know you'd tried it. How was it? What did you think?" Exhaling with relief at Medina's effortlessly following the change in topic, Professor Snape began to relay the tale of how he ingested the potion one evening, but had the same exact dream repeat itself the following evening unaided; he did not, of course, divulge the nature of the dream. "That's odd," she said. "I've never had that happen." Medina continued, "Was it a particularly interesting dream?" The look on Professor Snape's face was one of shocked guilt – he quickly wondered if she somehow knew his dream's content. Seeing this startled look, Medina said, "I just wondered if you were upset by this repetition. I'd hate to think that my creation caused you any suffering." "No," replied Snape evenly. "No, I suffered no ill effects per se. I was strictly surprised by its reoccurrence having only one dose of the serum and wondered if this was common." Continuing to mull the question over in her head, Medina continued, "Was this a dictated dream or a subconscious one? Perhaps that makes a difference. I've always had something to intentionally dream about so I wouldn't really know." "Well," replied Severus, cutting the conversation short, "as I said, I suffered no ill effects." "Now, are you going to prepare the universitas abeo with me tonight or not?" Medina asked in an oddly forceful voice. "No Medina. As I said before, potions of that nature are not permitted at Hogwarts, nor do I condone their creation." Trying very hard not to reflect her disappointment, Medina quietly said, "Sir, if you did not want me to return and resume our evening tutorials, why did you write and ask me to?" "I'm sorry Medina," Snape replied questioningly, "but I did not instigate your return; however, I agreed with your conclusion that not continuing these lessons would be a waste of your stay here and was happy to comply." Confused by what this statement implied and clearly recalling the note sent to her several weeks earlier, Medina scratched her head and said, "Accio invitation," waving her wand toward the ceiling. Only a few moments passed before the note recalling her to these lessons passed under the classroom door and landed on the worktable. "So this is also my imagination?" Medina asked rhetorically as she passed the note to Professor Snape. Severus scanned the letter and, with a look of angry comprehension, proceeded to show Medina the parchment he had received, presumably from her, earlier still. Medina confirmed she'd never sent the letter, but commented that the match to her own handwriting was uncanny. "Who would do such a thing," she asked, "and why?" Fuming quietly, trying to suppress any outburst, Professor Snape said, "I'm not sure who sent these, but I have a fair guess. As to why … I have no idea." A few more silent moments passed between them when Medina said, "Well, if it's all the same to you Professor, I suggest we retire for the evening and continue again on Saturday if you're available." "Certainly," he replied in a distant voice. "I will expect you at eight a.m. as usual. Plan on helping me with a research project I have fallen behind on." Understanding that this was Professor Snape's way of telling her that further requests for the universitas abeo were pointless, she nodded in agreement, quietly removed her things from the worktable, and returned to the Ravenclaw dormitory.

Feeling that this had been one of the longer Thursdays of his life, Severus returned to his personal study and prepared what was now his routine administration of headache potion. He had several streams of thought weaving through his brain as he gathered himself up on the couch, trying to relax and forget the worse parts of the day. He would have to confront the Headmaster about the letters he'd undoubtedly sent as a means of reengaging him with Medina. He would also have to confront Medina about her repeated, matter-of-fact requests for universitas abeo. He would have to find a way of erasing these distracting thoughts from his head lest he would never get to sleep. It then occurred to him what Medina meant by 'dangerous' when referring to her delectatio serum, as it was clearly the answer to his insomnia. 'This time,' he thought, 'I'll make sure I script my dream prior to taking the serum.' Thinking that this would drastically change the outcome, Severus proceeded to imagine an academic setting within which he was to receive a prestigious commendation for the development of a new potion; one that could be used to detect dark intentions. "Yes," he said aloud with the serum poised in his hand, "That should be sufficient." Swallowing a teaspoon-sized amount of the liquid, Professor Snape resumed his place on the couch before the crackling fire. Shortly before midnight, Severus found himself wrapped in his black cotton robe, mechanically crossing the bedroom floor to open the chamber door. Looking more beautiful than any woman he'd ever known, Medina permitted herself into the room. Once again, she stroked his hair and whispered in his ear what he longed so much to hear, "I'm in love with you Severus." Waves of passion coursed through him as Medina pressed herself against his body. Reflexively, he wrapped her in his arms and buried his face in her hair, breathing in the subtle scent. There was no opposition in him as she raised her face to his and began kissing his cheek, his neck, the shoulder she exposed from his nightshirt. The feeble thoughts that she was half his age and that a relationship with her was impossible dissolved when she pressed her lips to his. The intensity of emotion made his head swim wonderfully; this was something he'd never experienced before. She overwhelmed him, smoothing her hands down the small of his back as she continued kissing him gently. Medina sighed softly as Severus kissed her deeply, unable to control the need to explore her body with his hands. Smiling slyly, Medina broke from the kiss, took Severus' hand, and began to lead him across the room to the couch in front of the fire. Consciously, he suppressed the thought that he should let this go no further, wanting more than anything to join her there. For the hours that seemed to pass like minutes, Medina and Severus followed every whim; discovering each other like inexperienced children, reeling in the newness of the feelings they shared. When the morning alarm sounded, Severus found himself lying precariously on the study couch with his nightshirt partly unbuttoned and sweat upon his brow. Aware of his surroundings and that he had dreamt of Medina again, guilt and embarrassment mingled with the tingling feelings of excitement that remained from his time with her image. 'I've got to do something about this,' he thought desperately as he gathered himself into the shower. Knowing that these dreams were not purely illusion, that they stemmed from something repressed within him, he thought, 'You fool … you are going to have to be extremely cautious. She'll only be here a bit longer for God's sake, so get her out of your head!'

*

Instead of dwelling on the unexpected diversion of his consciously programmed dream the night before, Professor Snape decided instead to spend his time investigating the history of Mercurius Mancor and his relationship to Lord Voldemort. If he could uncover the events that transpired, the events to which Medina referred many weeks ago, perhaps he could better understand Miss de Muro's motivation for wishing to concoct the destructive potion known as universitas abeo. He knew he had a far better chance of understanding these relationships than he did the one developing between himself and his exchange student.

Very little written record exists of the Dark Lord's exploits. Those with first-hand knowledge either remain in his service and would not divulge the information, or had in some way offended Voldemort and met their end as a result. Lord Voldemort was always careful to reveal his motives, intentions, and actions to a select few, and never the same set of followers at the same time. A majority of the information regarding Voldemort's activities stems from second or third-hand story-telling and fearful gossip; stories containing mostly fiction, albeit based on fact. The castle library contains only short historical passages, with a smattering of well known, but insignificant, personal information regarding Tom Riddle – the man who assumed the alias 'Lord Voldemort.' As one of Voldemort's most trusted followers, now turned spy against the Dark Lord, Professor Snape should be better prepared than most to execute this search; however, he was certain he had never been made privy to any of the events involving Mancor and, ultimately, Medina. Severus decided that the only way to gain insight into what transpired was to travel to Majorca and look for accounts of Mancor and his family.

At the conclusion of his Thursday morning potion's class, Professor Snape donned a traveling cloak and made his way beyond the gates of Hogwarts to apparate to the Palma Wizarding Academy. With the tell-tale 'pop' that follows apparition, Professor Snape found himself bathed in the sunlight and humidity that pervades the island of Majorca. It was only a short walk to the gates of the academy, but the stunning hedges of bougainvillea, fuchsia and hibiscus made Snape linger momentarily to breathe in the fragrances that were not found in his Northern Britain. Having contacted the Palma Headmistress about his desire to access their library, Professor Snape was met at the gate and greeted warmly by Madam Cabrera. "Hello Professor and welcome to Majorca," the Headmistress said cheerfully. "Thank you Madam Cabrera for allowing me the use of your facility," Severus replied politely, yet unemotionally. The Headmistress escorted Professor Snape to the quaint hall that contained an overabundance of carved cherry bookshelves packed tightly amongst reading desks and chairs. Despite the physical crowding of the library, the space was bright, immaculately clean, and held innumerable leather-bound volumes of the most ancient hand-written texts, unquestionably and respectfully cared for. Madam Cabrera directed Severus to that section of the library containing the few historical volumes concerned with Mercurius Mancor and his family. "Thank you Headmistress," he said politely. "If I require further assistance, I will inquire with the librarian." With a simple smile and bow to her guest, Madam Cabrera exited the library and returned to her chambers.

It was several hours leafing through the texts before Professor Snape found an interesting passage containing a reference to Lord Voldemort:

…Sealing his fate, and the fate of his remaining family member, Mercurius refused to provide support to the Dark Lord's faction. Mercurius offered the explanation that with the secrets he held and potions he could produce, little hope would be left for those opposing Voldemort and his minions…

There was nothing new revealed here other than the fact that at the time of Mancor's decision to contest Lord Voldemort he had only a single living relative, which Severus now knew to be Medina. A few paragraphs further, another brief reference read:

…Shortly after receiving Mercurius Mancor's reply to Lord Voldemort's demand for support, the Dark Lord himself arrived at the Mancor estate to serve sentence on the family. Lord Voldemort spared Mercurius' life, but left him in anguish to witness the curse lain upon his granddaughter…

Again, the text contained no information he did not already possess. Professor Snape continued his search throughout the evening, but found nothing to further his understanding of the events currently affecting Medina's life. It was with much disappointment that Severus returned to Hogwarts castle that night, knowing now that he must concede to an interview with Dumbledore if he were to gain any understanding. He would speak to the Headmaster in the morning, well in advance of his evening tutorial with Medina – whatever the outcome, he decided he would not question Miss de Muro further about these terrible events if it was at all avoidable.

*

Friday morning arrived with its typically dreary gray sky; were this uncommon for Northern Britain, Professor Snape would have interpreted it as an ill prophesy for the day's activities. The Headmaster welcomed Severus, as usual, with an offer of tea and sugar snaps, but Snape quietly refused both – his stomach already tight in anticipation of the pending conversation. "Are you alright Severus? You look concerned this morning," said Professor Dumbledore. "Headmaster," Severus replied, "I am interested in whether you have knowledge of the incidents involving Lord Voldemort and Mercurius Mancor's refusal to support him." With a look of quiet pleasure brought about by Professor Snape's long-awaited forfeiture of isolation on the subject, the Headmaster said, "I would have expected you to ask this of me far sooner Severus;" but hesitating no longer, to prevent stifling their conversation, Dumbledore continued, "As you now know, there is very little written information available about the interactions between Voldemort and the Mancor family; however, you also know that Mercurius was well acquainted with my good friend Nicholas Flamel and, as such, with myself." Professor Snape continued to tolerate the remedial nature of the Headmaster's statements, but with poor control over the facial expression that reflected impatience. "Nicholas and I were too late to help Mercurius once Lord Voldemort decided to exact revenge upon him, but we did take it upon ourselves to help his granddaughter if we could. Unfortunately, despite our frequent attempts, neither he nor I were able to release Medina from the curse placed upon her those many years ago," Dumbledore concluded sadly. "Headmaster," interjected Snape, "I know that Mancor died as a result of the Dark Lord's curse upon Medina, but what curse could possibly have made him dejected to the point of allowing himself to perish?" The Headmaster hesitated for several moments while he considered his response. "Severus, although I could answer this question, I feel it wholly inappropriate to do so. This is information that should only come from Medina herself, should she choose to share it. I'm sorry Severus, but I can say nothing further." Angered and frustrated by yet another obstruction, but understanding its nature, Professor Snape resigned himself to this truth and excused himself from Dumbledore's office.

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