Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I also, sadly, do not own Severus Snape. Pity. Anything you recognize belongs to the great JKR. Zipporah Stevens, however, belongs to me. No touchy.

Author's Note: I have to admit that I have read a great deal of fan fiction. I am not intentionally using anyone else's OC or plot. Please don't sue.

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Chapter 1: Of Asphodel and Valerian

Severus Snape stood at the front of the cavernous potions classroom, his arms folded, his long fingers caressing the folds of his teaching robes. The torches that flickered along the wall cast shadows on his face, making him look like some hideous gargoyle. Indeed, he would have seemed to be made of stone, if it were not for those glittering black eyes. Those eyes that saw everything and everyone; nothing escaped those eyes.

The students cast uneasy glances at their professor as they silently took their places for their first 6th year Advanced Potions class - in fact, their first class of the year. It was unusual for Snape to be in the classroom when they filed in. Usually he entered once the class was seated, with flaring black robes and a sour disposition. Today those bottomless eyes tore apart their souls; the silence was unbearable. Only Draco Malfoy seemed to be unaffected.

Zipporah Stevens slipped quietly into her seat at the back of the class, setting her satchel carefully on the pitted wood lab table. She winced as vials clinked in her bag, sounding loud in the silent room. She kept her eyes glued to the desk, knowing that Snape was glaring at her, feeling that Snape was glaring at her. The girl kept her eyes down, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. Maybe if she just ignored him, he would just go away.

Of course, Professor Snape never "just went away".

"You are here," he began silkily, "to further your knowledge of the art that is potion making. The diligent will discover truth and power and enlightenment in this very room, the foolish will discover pain and humiliation. This year, you will be working with some very...hazardous...materials. I fully expect to have to send the majority of you to the hospital wing within the first week, slow-witted cretins that you are."

Snape paused noting each detail of each face before him. He began pacing deliberately through the room, pausing to glare at some, passing over others. "You are not here to further inter-house rivalry, second guess me, or make nuisances of yourselves. You will not," he hissed, placing those long-fingered hands on Zipporah's desk and leaning in menacingly, "cause a disruption in this class."

He was close enough that she could smell him - cedar and cloves, as yet unadulterated with the day's scents - a paradox, a comfortable smell from a disquieting man. Zipporah looked up in spite of herself. Snape's eyes were magnetic, deep pools of darkness into which one could easily slip and drown. The girl began to sweat under the intensity of that stare. Snape paused for a moment longer to make his point, then moved on, much to Zipporah's relief. Zipporah forced herself to control her breathing and felt her pounding heart slow its rapid beat.

The reprieve did not last for long.

"Miss Stevens, what is the proper colour for a Euphoria Elixir?"

"Sunshine yellow, sir."

"Correct."

Snape stared at her for a moment, arms folded across his chest, before turning to Draco.

"Mr. Malfoy, what are the ingredients for a Hate Potion?"

"Asphodel, powdered bicorn horn, knotgrass, and armadillo bile."

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy. Five points to Slytherin"

Zipporah scowled. Malfoy had missed valerian in his list of potion ingredients. First Snape talks about not furthering inter-house rivalry, then he plays favorites. It's almost like he wants people to hate him. As the dark-haired girl frowned at her professor, brown eyes met glittering black. Snape was sneering at her, eyebrow raised. Zipporah looked away; she knew enough to keep her mouth shut.

From there, the questions flew thick and fast. Other students were interrogated, but it seemed every other question was aimed at her. Miss Stevens, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, Miss Stevens, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Stevens.

"Miss Stevens, what is the use of Felix Felicis?"

Wanting to be out of the spotlight, Zipporah deliberately answered the question incorrectly, hoping that Snape would leave her alone. "It makes the drinker invisible."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Detention," he spat out. "When you know the correct answer, you will give it. Stay after class."

As Snape swept back to the front of the classroom, Zipporah grimaced. Out of the frying pan, into the fire…

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As the rest of the class filed out of dungeon five, Zipporah gathered her books together, carefully putting her quill back in its case before putting it in her bag. She flipped her long braid over her shoulder and walked slowly up to Professor Snape's desk to await her sentence.

Snape sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled before him, staring at this quiet, serious-eyed girl. She had always sat at the back, trying to blend in to the shadows. He wondered idly if she often did that, or if it was just in his class. She seemed to want to escape notice; he did have that effect on some people.

Zipporah found herself uneasy under her professor's intense scrutiny. She gritted her teeth and forced herself not to fidget. She could not, however, force herself to return his gaze; instead, she looked straight ahead.

After a long moment, Snape broke the silence. "What are we to do with you?" he asked softly, deliberately. "The student intent on being inconspicuous, to her own detriment. The student so uncomfortable with scrutiny that she feels she needs to lie to her professor?"

He noticed, thought Zipporah with some trepidation. Well, of course he noticed.

"Perhaps you would like to sit at the front of the class for the remainder of the year, with Theodore Nott."

No, absolutely not. "Yes, sir."

"And you will return to this classroom at 8:00 this evening for your detention."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get out of my sight."

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Zipporah was surprised to find Hermione Granger waiting for her just outside the classroom door; the two had never been more than acquaintances. Hermione fell into step with the tall girl.

"We've got Advanced Arithmancy next. I thought I'd walk with you."

"We may be late for class." It didn't seem like the type of thing Hermione would do.

"Not if we hurry. So, did you actually know the answer to that question?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Yes."

Hermione looked perplexed. "Why did you give the wrong answer? I never could."

"I had enough of being put on the spot. One doesn't just tell Professor Snape to stuff it."

"You should never lie to Professor Snape. He always knows," Hermione said in her most know-it-all voice.

"I think I've figured that out, thanks."

The two girls walked in silence for a while. As they were about to go in to their next class, Hermione asked hesitantly, "Would you like to come study with me in the library after supper? Harry and Ron are impossible. It would be nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of."

Zipporah smiled at the bushy-haired girl. "Sure. I was going to go work on my potions homework anyway."

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The study session in the library that evening went well, with the exception of Hermione's annoying tendency to pretend she knew everything. Zipporah enjoyed having someone who actually did homework around; it made her feel like she wasn't so much of an anomaly. As she left for detention, Hermione shot her a sympathetic glance. "You do deserve it, you know."

"Thanks a lot," Zipporah replied dryly. "I'm sure that knowledge will help the evening go by more quickly."

Shortly thereafter, Zipporah let herself into dungeon five. Snape was already there, marking papers. He did not look up when she entered.

How the hell did he manage to get marking on the first day? Zipporah placed herself conspicuously in view and cleared her throat.

Snape looked up and smirked. "Ah. The fool of the day. The first years managed to leave traces of their assignment all over the dungeon. You will clean it up without magic, including the spot on ceiling."

Zipporah sighed. "Yes, sir."

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A/N:

"Never lie to Professor Snape" is the genius of Rebecca Webb, and it's much funnier coming from her.