A/N Unfortunately I do not own Severus Snape, or anything or anyone that has ever appeared in any of the Harry Potter books. Also I have a beta now and things have been tweeked- you may want to skim it over again so you don't miss the changes.

Snape set down his trunk, surveying the clean modern lines of his new office. It was a world away from the dusty, mouldy stones of Hogwarts- both literally and figuratively- and for a man of his self composure, he was oddly put out. To his right was a great wall of glass looking out over a sparkling lake hemmed in by dark forest. He waved a hand and the glass disappeared. The window was just an illusion, he knew that, but he couldn't shake off the feeling of exposure. Years of living in the dark with its seeming safety had made him wary of light.

He cleared his throat and a hand went to his neck, swathed like the rest of him in immaculate black. Anyone who knew him would recognize him instantly; the only visible difference was the addition of a high black cravat and that he appeared to be much younger. When the Dark Lord died his dark mark had faded, taking with it the poison it had slowly seeped into his blood.

For once Severus actually looked his age. Given a less severe attire he would have looked several years younger. He went to his desk and rested his weary head in his hands. It was the fall after the great battle and, after staging his death and transfiguring the body of a death eater to resemble his own, he'd fled to Canada to do the only thing he really knew how: teach.

He wasn't in need of money- careful management and frugal living had seen to that, but he had to do something with his time. He'd realized that he didn't much relish the thought of becoming a hermit, seeing no one and spending the rest of his days alone. He liked people- well, intelligent ones, for that matter, who weren't overly communicative- and he liked teaching. He'd taken some pains to conceal the fact that he was still alive, but after he'd discovered that his name was cleared of all charges he wasn't too concerned with anonymity. To avoid the praise and sheepish gratitude of the masses, however, he'd continued to go through the motions.

He was considering starting a draught of sleeping potion for that evening when the door to the store-room opened. A young woman garbed in an icy blue gown appeared. She dropped a graceful curtsey and looked at him expectantly.

He blinked for a few seconds before recovering enough presence of mind to demand in a passable impression of his former voice, "Yes?"

The girl's delicate white fingers offered him a slip of paper that read: "My name is Claire Dowlatshahi. I am the Herbological Sciences aide and will be working with you."

"I take it you speak French?"

She gave him what he took to be a confused look. Severus essayed into a flawless Gaelic tirade, explaining with easy disdain that he never took student helpers and that she could take herself off and think no more about it. She shook her head and pointed to the paper.

"I'm not an ordinary student. I was given this position because the professor you replace realized that teaching me along side other students was pointless. I helped her by teaching the lower classes, grading assignments and general maintenance of supplies but the main reason I became her aide was for private tutelage. I am exceptional with potions."

He looked at her with a scowl after reading this but instead of meeting a look of insufferable self-satisfaction, he saw only a kind of quiet dignity. She wasn't bragging, merely stating- at least what she and her former professor had deemed- the truth.

"Mademoiselle, I am sure that you are.. adequate.. with brewing some potions, but rest assured that the easy pace that has here to fore characterized this institution's 'Herbological Sciences' program is no more. You will undoubtedly be challenged by the new curriculum."

'Whether you rise to the challenge remains to be determined,' he added to himself. He glanced at the paper, used to the routine.

"I'm not trying to be perverse, but please keep me on. Potions are my life."

He snorted and crumpled the note in his fist.

"I trust you can see your way out?"

Glancing at the paper, she wet her lips and spoke. Her words were slow and deliberate.

"Don't make me go. Give me a month, then decide."

Her breath came fast and he could see the effort it took to speak. He looked at her, testing her. If she showed even a trace of fear or intimidation he would be done with the whole thing. Her black eyes met his levelly.

'They're like the night sky,' he thought absently, 'Dark and yet so full of light . . . the deuce did that come from?'

"One week."

She breathed in relief and bobbed another curtsey.

"Mademoiselle? In future if you wish to communicate you shall have to speak. I will not waste my time with notes."

She nodded. A small charm on her circlet twitched and caught the light as she moved. He was still staring absent mindedly when the door shut silently behind her.

'I've gone soft,' he thought to himself.

He smoothed the paper saw the words "Thank you." Annoyed that he'd been so easily manipulated he almost resolved to call her back and turn her away. After a moment's reflection he shrugged inwardly. What was the point? He was new here and could at least utilize an assistant until he grew used to the school. That the girl was nearly mute was an unexpected stroke of luck. And she wasn't bad looking, if you went for exotics.

'Exotics?' Claire thought to herself, listening. 'How am I exotic?' Whatever he thought of her looks, the man was an imposter. She'd known instantly that "Serum Prince" was an alias, though she wouldn't reveal that he sought to hide his identity. She'd quite liked the bit about her eyes. Her lips curved into a small, mischievous smile. This year could prove enjoyable.

Several hours later, when Severus had just about finished with his lesson plan, he arose, about to order tea. Yet at that moment, Claire set down a cup with a wedge of lemon. He blinked in surprise then thanked her, watching her over the rim of the cup as he took a sip.

"How is it that you are here over the summer holiday?" he asked carelessly, setting the warm cup on the table.

She looked at him with silent question.

"Speak. You are not mute and the more you get in habit of talking the sooner you shall overcome the aversion."

She drew a resigned breath.

"I am a ward. I take my vacations here."

"I take it that room is yours?"

He had gestured to a tiny bedroom adjoining the store-room. She nodded.

"You shall have to find accommodation elsewhere. I understand that the former professor was a woman, and thus the arrangement was unobjectionable, but as that is no longer the circumstance..."

"I have already asked... in reference to the change in circumstance. Headmistress saw no reason for me to go."

It was a long speech for her, and he let her recover before asking, "You don't want to board with people your own age?"

Her smile was sardonic. It said, 'What on earth would I have in common with them?' She inclined her head, and then asked with her eyes if that was all. He nodded and shuffled his papers. When she turned his eyes, completely of their own accord, sought out the smooth expanse of her white arms. He grimaced took another sip of tea. Exactly the way he liked it. Now openly scowling he pushed the cup away and furiously scribbled on a sheet of parchment.

With the note in hand, he followed her into the large closet. Tiny drawers lined the walls, each with a small label affixed to the front. The letters were identical to the ones on the note she'd given him on their first encounter. Above him were racks of herbs in various stages of drying and a great wooden table filled the middle of the room.

She was working with the mortar and pestle, grinding something into a fine powder. She stopped her work and looked up, her face flushed from wielding the heavy stone. She held up a finger and flicked her long ebony hair over her shoulder, continuing to grind. After some minutes of easy silence she waved a hand and the powder neatly poured itself into its drawer.

"You do not make use of a wand?"

She shrugged, wiping her palms on her apron.

"Sometimes."

A cat mewed and leapt from the window seat to the table, sitting in front of her expectantly. She caught him up and scratched under his chin.

"You say you're advanced? Here is a list of potions. You've until the end of the week to complete them."

She glanced at it and suppressed a smile. He'd intended to make it too challenging for her to perform, and she would have to pay careful attention to a few on the list, but she'd mastered even the most difficult by fourth year.

Late that night, into the small hours of the morning, she was tending the final brew. Despite himself, Severus was impressed. Shortcuts and improvements he had discovered as a lad seemed well-known to her, and in addition there were one or two techniques he'd never thought to try. No doubt in three days time when this potion was complete it would be flawless.

He'd fully expected the list to outlast the week, intended it even, but she'd taken out several cauldrons at once and made them all together, managing her time well by inserting shorter, more complex recipes into the down time of a longer brew. Eyes shining, she looked up at him, fairly begging for his approbation. He saw himself in her, the burning desire for someone, anyone, to recognize her talent. He indulged her begrudgingly.

"Adequate."

Despite the circles under her eyes, her smiling face was supremely lovely. He found that he couldn't look away from her lips. Blasted jet lag. He turned and strode from the room. Claire listened with her mind as he began to decipher a rather long and arduous passage in a medieval herbal. Otherwise his mind was completely blank.

He was very skilled at that. She resisted the urge to probe, knowing that he would feel her. Around the edges of thought she could feel a terrible darkness, pain and guilt eating at him. Overall was an intense fatigue, almost engulfing him. Unable to restrain herself she gently drew a bit away. She felt exhaustion down to her very bones. Curling up in the window seat with the cat she dimmed the lights and watched the rain fall in slanting grey lines. This wasn't really a window, so she couldn't hear it, but her mind supplied echoes of the sound. Soon she was fast asleep.

Light had begun to tint the horizon when she woke. Her nostrils flared as she sniffed the air, checking on the roiling mass inside the cauldron. Everything was going on as it should. She stretched; stiff and cold from sleeping on the window ledge, then realized she was famished. A few seconds work produced two cups of tea and a tin of ginger biscuits (one of the drawers were designated for the times when she either forgot to go to the great hall to eat or was too busy with a potion) and went out in search of her teacher. He was awake and sitting at his desk. He nodded politely and took the cup she offered.

"Shall we gather... ingredients?"

"What do we need?"

"I have an inventory."

She handed it to him and he read, in her neat, easy cursive, how much the storeroom had of what. Grasping a quill he noted with his own spidery script what he required. She glanced at it and nodded.

"Half a moment."

He'd finished the tea and started on his second biscuit when she reappeared. Gone was the Byronic dress with its silver "ceinture de lys"; in its place was a belted tunic over leggings. A braid of black hair wrapped around her head to terminate in a large knot at the nape of her neck. He realized that he was staring. He cleared his throat and stood.

"Lead the way, mademoiselle."

They walked in companionable silence out of the huge château to the edge of an evergreen forest.

"Would you mind if we don't.. apparate? I tend to walk. Sometimes you find things you didn't know you wanted."

The last part of her statement struck him. He was glad they made the trip in silence. They had gone about a mile when a little orange head popped out of her messenger bag, sniffed a bit and then retreated.

"You brought the cat?"

"Yes. Grince comes along everywhere."

"Grince?"

"The English is "squeaky"."

His lip quirked.

"Creative."

After a bit they made it to a shaded pool around which grew several of the herbs on the list. Suddenly a gigantic white centaur was standing beside them.

"Allo Muraco."

"Allo Claire, ma cher. Who is he?" he added disdainfully. Severus, used to the erratic and often violent outbursts of European centaurs, had put himself between the girl and the huge beast.

"This is.. my teacher."

Severus inclined his head and provided a name, "Professor Prince."

The beast eyed him for a bit before giving Claire an odd look and repeating her.

"Your teacher? What happened to Mme Arran?"

"She took with child."

"Oh. Why are you alone with him?"

Claire gave him a puzzled look.

"We came to gather herbs. And I'm not alone, I have Grince."

Muraco didn't laugh. He gave Severus a dark look and rested a possessive hand on Claire's shoulder.

"Don't go places with him by yourself."

"I'm his assistant. We're alone most of the day."

"... And what do you do with him, alone most of the day?"

She almost choked before flushing with anger.

"Muraco p-puh-lease!"

Her blush increased and she shoved her handful of herbs into the bag.

"Can we go?" she muttered to the ground.

"Gladly." Severus gave the angry creature a last look then wrapped Claire in his arms and apparated.

Shortly, they appeared on a clearing just outside of the school and wasted no time walking back. Surprisingly, it was Severus who broke the silence.

"Excuse me. I didn't mean to cause a problem between you and your..?"

She scuffed a toe in the dirt and shrugged.

"It's unwise to become entangled with a centaur. They have vicious tempers when it comes to their women."

"I'm not his w-woman."

Her face clenched and tears gathered in her eyes. So that was it. She stuttered.

"You may as well compose yourself. You can't help it."

"I suh-hound like an idiot!"

Humiliated as she was, anything he said would just make it worse. He held the door for her in silence and led her into the great hall where the teachers were gathering to eat.

"Have some breakfast."

"I'm n-not huh-huh-huh-" she abandoned the effort with a scowl.

Ignoring the attempt at refusal he made a plate and set it in front of her with a decided clack.

"Eat."

After taking a moment to shoot him a baleful look, she tucked in. She really was hungry. She hadn't eaten a meal since breakfast the day before. Severus, also hungry, ate with relish. He was in an excellent mood. He'd thought the silly girl had formed a "liaison dangereuse" with the beast and was immensely relieved to find that she hadn't. Later that relief would bother him, but for now he occupied himself with enjoying her dignified outrage.

"All of the toast, please."

She'd been about to push away her plate but, giving him a sullen look, snatched the last piece of bread and bit a huge chunk out of it before tossing it back down. She raised her eyebrows sarcastically. 'Satisfied?' He snorted and took a swig of coffee.

Yes, as a matter of fact he was.