Author's notes: I've had most of this story written for a while now, and even had it posted on for a while, but had decided to take it down because I wasn't inspired to write anymore, much less try and finish it. Lately, however, my muse has struck me and I've added more chapters on. Meanwhile, for those of you who have never heard of me or read this fic before, I wrote the first few chapters with a friend, Ryan. He actually wrote the better first half of this chapter. I wish he were still around, but he's since moved on with that wonderful thing called 'life.' I still find time to mess around the internet from time to time. So! Although I've gotten quite a few chapters written, I'll most likely post one every so often, depending on how many reviews I get. So please! Read and review! Just no flamers. If you don't like it much, try and be nice about how you say it. Thank you.

Disclaimer: The only character that belongs to me is Kathrynne. As you know, J.K. Rowling is the awesome goddess of all things creative and worthy of praise and worship in her magical world.

He watched as the sun slowly extinguished itself beyond the shadowed horizon, painting the sky with brilliant shades of pinks and purples; numerous stars beginning to randomly dot the heavens as night drew ever closer. Pinpoints of sparkling light had already begun to flicker into existence over the horizon, in the sky. It was a breathtaking sight, to say the very least, worthy of any artist's canvas or any photographer's camera and a majestic display of nature's own magic at it's finest. And it made him absolutely sick.

Severus Snape gave a snort of disgust and turned away from the window, his ever present scowl deepening a bit as his mood turned even more sour - if that was at all possible. He indignantly crossed his arms over his chest; his cold, black eyes narrowing a bit as they moved over the empty hall before him. It was quiet now, devoid of the obnoxious laughter and merriment of children that would surely echo within the school's walls in an hour or two. He grimaced at the very thought. Another year, another school term, and another semester of being Potions Master.

"Infuriating," he muttered under his breath into the empty air.

He'd been teaching at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry in England for quite some time now, well over a decade in fact, and he was still in the same bloody position he'd started out in. Not that it wasn't totally unjustified that he was the Potions Master - it was common knowledge that there was no one in the whole world of wizardry that knew more about that particular subject than he. However, he was also very skilled in the knowledge of dark arts. It was another area that he could have been called an expert in, having had quite a bit of first hand experience in the matter. Nevertheless, he had been passed over again to fill the position of teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, which was the job he truly wanted. He was more than aware of the reasons he kept getting overlooked for the post, but it still displeased him. Though, it really took very little to displease Professor Snape.

He was not a pleasant man by nature, often being well known for having a cold and rudely sardonic nature about him. He was not a sociable man either, frequently avoiding all contact with others, when he could help it, and keeping himself busied down in his potions lab and in the dungeons of the school with derisory projects as an excuse to be alone. Snape was a difficult man to get along with and his physical appearance was about as appealing as his disposition. Long, greasy strands of ebony locks that reached his shoulders hung loosely around his angular face, his midnight eyes coated in an icy glaze with a sneer of annoyance perpetually plastered on his thin lips just under his great hooked nose. He was pale, his sallow skin made even more bland looking by his spotless black robes and contrasting dark hair and eyes. He was tall and thin, but not lanky. Snape retained a powerful stature, intimidating even, looming well over the heads of students and faculty members. Like some great ominous specter, he instilled a wariness in all he encountered that commanded a certain amount of respect and reverence. It amused him how most people shrunk back in terror under his gaze and he took pleasure in the fact that few dared to oppose him. Students would shiver at the sound of his darkly silky voice. It was all very entertaining to him.

"Severus?" suddenly came a voice from behind him. Snape turned at the sound, a dark brow raised at the unexpected sound of his name.

It was Professor McGonagal.

"Yes?"

The older woman stubbornly adjusted the thin wire frame spectacles sitting squarely on the end of her small nose, refusing to acknowledge the coolness he had addressed her with. She was one of the few who remained cordial to him out of deeply imbedded properness. He knew she found his company objectionable, though she was too professional to let her emotions deter the fact that he was her colleague. Prim as always, she forced a smile, her taught face straining a bit at the action.

"It's time. I suggest we move to the Great Hall," she said. "They'll be here any moment."

"I expect so," he managed in his typically unfaltering poise.

She nodded, obviously not feeling a need to say anything further and turned promptly on her heels, heading off in the direction of the banquet hall without a look back over her shoulder.

He frowned and silently followed her, knowing that the moment he'd dreaded all summer had finally come. The arrival of the students and the start of the first semester. Damn it. It had come much too quickly. He knew that this year would be the year. He could almost smell the trouble brewing in the air. The boding evil that had been hanging over everyone's head, his own especially, would inevitably turn up. He was almost sure of it and the Headmaster of the school, Albus Dumbledore, whole-heartedly agreed. They'd had many meetings over the summer pertaining to the matters at hand, or the matters that would be at hand perhaps even sooner than they expected, and the result was always the same. Snape shuddered to think of it, though he never allowed his inner dread of the decision to show through his tough exterior. Much like Professor McGonagal, he felt it his duty to remain as professional as possible, no matter what the consequence. What had to happen would happen and he knew he was the only one who would be able to do what had to be done. But, he tried not to think of it. He hated to worry about anything. It tended to make him... irritable.

"Damn it."

He took a deep breath and swung open the large mahogany doors to the enormous room commonly known as the Great Hall. He glowered at the room decorated perfectly before him, banners hanging from various parts of the ceiling and walls, golden flatware and large platters set prettily on each of the long tables, waiting to be filled with delicious foods of every kind you could imagine. He felt sick again.

He was sure it would be a miracle if he didn't throw up before the evening was through. He almost smiled at the thought as he looked up at the head table where all the professors and staff of Hogwarts usually sat, at the front of the room. His seat was at the extreme left of the table, next to the seat usually filled by the DADA professor. At least, if he did get sick, he could do it on the stupid git that had swiped his dream job from him again. That would make the whole night a little more tolerable.

The hall fell silent when Dumbledore stood and announced that the new students, the first years, who would now be sorted into their respective houses by the Sorting Hat ritual. Snape rolled his eyes as he absently drummed his fingers on the tabletop. The entire process of the sorting was boring to him. He didn't particularly care where the students were assigned as he already knew how they'd be treated according to their house when they got into his classroom. Hufflepuffs were teased and humiliated, Ravenclaws were tolerated but not always favored, those in Gryffindor house were to be punished and embarrassed as much as possible, and the Slytherins were treated like royalty because they were the house he was headmaster of. They could do no wrong, even if he didn't always like the things they did. It was expected.

When the obscenely worn looking hat began talking, a gasp of surprised awe emitted from the new students around the room. They'd never seen a talking hat before. Snape's lip curled with distaste. They were all so ignorant and naive... and then the hat was placed on top of each students head, promptly naming off which house they would best be suited for. Snape noticed that there were more students being sent to Ravenclaw than most of the other houses. Very few Hufflepuffs, a nauseating amount of Gryffindors, and a handful of Slytherins. Usually Gryffindor and Slytherin were the largest houses. How odd for Ravenclaw to suddenly, after being the smallest house for years, be getting assigned the most students. He didn't have much time to consider the rare occurrence because, just as the last student was placed in their house, the doors to the hall were unexpectedly pulled open. Everyone turned in their seat to glance at the bewildering disturbance, and even Snape's mouth gaped a bit in surprise.

"Ah, you're here!" Dumbledore laughed from his seat in the middle of the head table, his brilliant blue eyes peering over the rim of the half moon spectacles on his nose, a hand absently smoothing his waist length, snow white beard as he gestured the figure standing in the door way forward.

Snape could only stare at the woman as she made her way up to the head table. She was a moderate height with soft reddish hair that showed flecks of gold, falling past her shoulders, her hazel eyes sporting a slightly embarrassed but friendly look as she approached. Her robes were black, just as his were, which surprised him a bit. It was quite uncommon for a woman to wear a garb such as his, even less common that she would look nice in it. He uncomfortably cleared his throat in his seat, pushing the odd thoughts from his head, raising a brow as Dumbledore's voice rang out again from a few chairs down.

"This is Professor Celeste," the older man began with a warm smile at the woman standing before him. "She is the new teacher for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class!"

Snape almost fell out of his chair as applause filled the room to welcome the arrival of the new professor. He clenched his fists in frustrated disappointment. He'd been hoping that the seat next to him had remained empty because the professor they'd hired had suddenly either been fired or decided not to take the job in which case, he would have been called upon to teach the DADA class. And now, the blasted person was here. Though he still couldn't believe his eyes..

"You may have a seat, Kathrynne," the Headmaster gestured down the table at the empty chair next to the dark looking man at the end of the table.

"Thank you, Headmaster," she smiled politely. "I apologize for being late. I'd forgotten how this castle has a tendency to change around on you."

"That's quite alright. I'll forgive you, just this once," he grinned teasingly, his sapphire eyes twinkling at her. He then promptly turned his gaze back to the sea of students filling the rest of the enormous room and raised his voice. "Well, who am I to keep you starving any longer? Dig in!"

No sooner had he said it than an obscene amount of food magically appeared on their plates. The students quickly turned their concentration away from the teachers table and began to feast upon the banquet set before them. They were soon busy eating and chattering with each other about their hopes and excitement for the new term. Kathrynne sat down at the table, and her attention was first grabbed by the short professor who sat on her left side. He took her hand in his, shaking it vigorously.

"Greetings and salutations! I am Professor Flitwick, of Charms," he smiled cheerfully. "Its wonderful to finally see a female, especially such a bright young woman as yourself, as our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!"

Kat couldn't help but laugh gently. The man, who probably barely came up past her waist, was friendly enough, if a bit eccentric, perhaps.

"Thank you," she replied politely. "I only hope I can survive this jinxed position. I understand the great Gilderoy Lockhart is now learning to retie his shoes, thanks to the events during his stay here."

There was a soft, derisive snort from her right.

"The buffoon," sneered a quiet voice, mostly to himself.

Kathrynne, however, had heard him and she turned her head curiously to get her first good look at the tall man sitting beside her. At the moment, he had his full interest placed on his food. though he wasn't eating anything. He was pushing it around his with his fork, playing rather rudely with the rations on his golden plate. He hadn't even so much as looked up at her since she'd sat down.

Naturally, she remembered him. It was hard to forget such a man as Severus Snape. It looked as if he hadn't changed much since their days as students at Hogwarts. Of course, she hadn't really befriended him then, but she'd certainly seem him around and heard the rumors that flew throughout the school about him. His appearance, anyway, hadn't changed. He still had the greasy hair, the ever present sneer, and he still held that overall air of superiority. But, she wasn't going to let any of this stand in the way of befriending him.

"Not a fan of Lockharts, I wager?" she asked quite cheerfully.

Snape merely scowled in reply, idly rolling a couple peas around his dish instead.

Well...at least she'd attempt to befriend him, anyway.

"Oh, how rude of me. I'm Kathrynne Celeste," she smiled warmly, offering him a slender hand. "I know Dumbledore introduced me to everyone, but I find this much more personal."

Snape glanced at her hand with disgust, as if it were some hideous bug that should be squashed immediately. He noticed with annoyance, however, that Flitwick was watching him with a suspiciously arched brow. Sighing just a bit, Snape took her smaller hand, his long, sinewy fingers clasping hers very briefly. Kat's eyes widened in slight surprise at how cold that hand was...but he quickly took his palm away from hers, as if he'd been burned.

"I am Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master," he sniffed indignantly, holding his overly large hooked nose high.

"I know who you are," she smiled a bit, her hazel eyes twinkling in amusement as she went to pick up her goblet of pumpkin juice. "Your 'reputation' proceeds you... and we attended Hogwarts together as students, though I doubt you remember me. I was a couple years behind you, and I was also in Gryffindor, after all." She said that last bit with a slightly proud air. Kat didn't mean to sound rude. In a way, she was just teasing the man, though she was unsure of just what would be pushing the man too far. She did remember him having a short fuse.

"And you have my most sincere apologies for that," he spoke smoothly, his lip curling into an unpleasant smile.

Kat narrowed her eyes slightly. Flitwick, who had been listening, spoke up quite loudly then.

"Severus is Headmaster of Slytherin house, you know," he explained with a knowing look to Kat. She let a smile of her own tug at her lips and arched an eyebrow

"Oh really?" she asked quite casually, her voice directed to Flitwick but intentionally loud enough for Snape to hear. "Strangely enough, I feel pity for those poor Slytherin students."

Flitwick grinned lightly behind his golden goblet brimming with thick, orange pumpkin juice. Snape's smile, meanwhile, turned back into a nasty sneer at that comment. He, however, wasn't about to let her have the last word.

"Just as I feel sorry for all of your students," he added calmly, examining his own goblet casually, trailing his sinewy fingertips over the wide base, "since they will be taught by a professor lacking so much...charm."

Kat wanted to retort, but she didn't want to let him provoke her like that. Instead, she smiled gleefully and gestured to Flitwick. "Oh, but Flitwick here is the Professor of Charms! Surely he can lend me some."

Flitwick was delighted by her humor. Snape, however, seemed was less than amused. It was more than obvious that he didn't appreciate being mocked and Kat immediately picked up on it. He narrowed his dark, tunnel-like eyes coldly and glared at her, completely forgetting his food for the moment.

"I believe there has been a mistake," he spoke in a dangerously quiet tone. "You cannot be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Snape absently glanced past the female professor to see if the midget next to her was still eaves dropping on their conversation. Flitwick, though, had finally turned away from the two to talk to Professor McGonagal.

"Oh? And why is that?"

"You obviously don't have what it takes," he hissed, letting a cold smile cross his sharp features. "I predict you won't last a month."

"You know, that could be taken as a ... threat, Severus," she said nonchalantly, not letting him intimidate her one bit.

"Well, accidents do seem to happen around here, Professor," he spoke barely above an icy whisper, overly articulating each word for emphasis.

Kat frowned as she narrowed her eyes slightly, scrutinizing him. Exactly what had he meant by that? She didn't know what to make of the man...his appearance clearly didn't invite a second glance, and he wasn't one for good dinner conversation. They had only just met and already she felt her nerves running thin. However, it was, unfortunately, only the beginning.

Feeling satisfied that he'd made his displeasure known to her, Snape abruptly stood from his seat. Dumbledore looked up curiously from his place in the middle of the table.

"Leaving so soon, Severus?" he asked warmly.

"I need to prepare for tomorrow's lesson, Headmaster," Snape answered stiffly.

Dumbledore nodded with an amiable smile. "Very well. See that you get a good night's rest, my friend."

He nodded once before turning without so much as a glance at Kat. Her hazel eyes followed him as he swept through the Great Hall, his dark robes billowing around him. While each step showed off his presence of authority, his movement somehow lost the stiffness he'd displayed moments before, a graceful air suddenly commanding his large and purposeful strides. There was a certain beauty to that striking figure that just... Kat suddenly frowned, stopping the thought. What are you thinking? she asked herself. That man is cruel, ruthless, cold-hearted, greasy-haired, hooked-nosed, pale-skinned, and...

"Don't let him get to you," a voice said from behind, interrupting her thoughts. Kathrynne jerked her head in surprise.

"What?" she snapped, then blushed. Standing there was Minerva McGonagal, deputy Headmistress and the Transfiguration teacher. She managed something of a ruffled smile."Oh, Professor McGonagal, hello."

Professor McGonagal didn't return the smile, however. "If I were you, I'd stay out of Severus' way. I doubt he'll bother you if you don't bother him."

Kat wanted to protest, but she didn't. She instead nodded in agreement, allowing a slight sigh to escape her lips. "Of course, Professor."

McGonagal nodded, clearly ending the short conversation, and turned to restore herself to her seat. Kat looked down at her untouched meal but suddenly wasn't feeling as hungry as she had been before she'd sat down at the head table. Kathrynne felt oddly drained, like she'd just had an encounter with a dementor who had, in turn, sucked all the energy and happiness out of her. She felt ready to call it a night when Dumbledore stood up to give his annual start of term speech. He waited until there was silence in the Great Hall, before speaking.

He went over the rules and regulations, repeating things from previous years. The Forbidden Forest was still off-limits, as was Hogsmeade to any student below third year. There was a list of new objects forbidden inside Hogwarts posted on the door to Filch's office.

"I'm sure you also noticed the aurors when you walked in. They will be staying with us for the better part of the year, just as an extra precaution." For the first time that evening, his gaze became sober, his smile falling into a grave frown. "I cannot stress to you how important it is that you obey your teachers and abide by the rules. I do not feel the need to remind you of last year's events." The old man paused for effect, allowing the students a moment to recall the terrible tragedies that had occurred not that long ago, at the end of the last school term before the summer break. " I'm sure all of you know why we are taking these precautions."

The room went silent. Everyone, save some of the first years, knew exactly what he was talking about. And none of them looked very happy about it. Kat's gaze softened as her eyes rested on a certain dark-haired, emerald- eyed fifth year boy sitting toward the middle of the Gryffindor table. She quickly identified him as Harry Potter.

The boy who lived.

She watched as the boy squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, adjusting his glasses as he gave a red-haired boy next to him a nudge with his elbow. The other boy, whom Kat didn't know, whispered something back, behind his hand, that she couldn't see. Kat frowned pitiably as she watched Harry, having heard everything that had happened to the boy. She felt truly sorry for him and looked forward to meeting him in class the next morning.

"But, now it is late and I know you will all want to be rested for your lessons that will begin bright and early tomorrow morning," Dumbledore smiled, his countenance displaying his usual cheerfulness once again, breaking the ominous mood that had suddenly descended upon the entire hall. "So, sleep tight, and don't let any of those bed bugs bite!"

As the tables of students slowly began to empty out of the room, the occupants of the staff table moved to it's feet as well, a few professors talking quietly amongst themselves as they followed the students through the huge wooden doors.

Kathrynne followed the crowd, returning a few "goodnights" said to her on the way out of the room. She had so much on her mind... or so much that should have been on her mind, what with classes beginning the next morning at 9 o'clock sharp. But, strangely, she could only bring herself to focus on one thing: the rude man who'd been seated next to her at dinner. There was something about him that ate away at her... something that wouldn't allow her to just forget him or simply ignore his very existence, as she rightfully felt she should have after his unseemly behavior. She frowned as she made her way to her sleeping quarters down by the Gryffindor tower, only hoping that a good night's sleep would clear her head. Yes, in the morning she'd be able to focus much better on her work, and hopefully, that menacing, black-clad figure wouldn't still be lurking in the corners of her mind.

Who does she think she is? What right does she have to simply walk into this school and think that she... that she...

Snape paused in his pacing, unable to think of a way to finish the thought.

It doesn't matter. She needs to be put in her place. She needs to learn that I'm not a person to toy with. Or to openly mock. Yes, she'll get hers. But how? I can't very well poison her or something... Dumbledore would obviously be suspicious of me. I can't kill her. No, that simply wouldn't do. Perhaps just humiliate her? Maybe I could brew up a batch of Swelling Solution and then I could "accidentally" drop it on her chair in her office? Or, conceivably, a bit of boil inducing powder left in her napkin. When she went to wipe her face at dinner she'd have blisters on her face the size of a galleon! Though, that is rather juvenile. I'd expect that one from the Weasley twins.

Snape sighed and continued walking aimlessly around his bed chambers, his hands clasped thoughtfully behind his back. He furrowed his brow, shaking his head as he mulled through the various ideas passing through his trap- like mind.

He'd been contemplating the matter for hours, the gentle dinging of the clock on the mantle piece showing that it was now in the early hours of the morning. But, for one reason or another, he'd been unable to think of anything suitable for retribution. None of his ideas seemed up to par. They were either too dangerous, things that he would surely get in trouble for, or not dangerous enough. It was so hard to find a happy medium.

He gave an indignant snort and sat down pensively in one of the green, wingback chairs in front of his large, gray marble fireplace. He absently stared into the flames as if waiting for some brilliant inspiration to come to him, some ingenious vision..

Nothing did. He gave a frustrated grumble and leaned back in the chair, his bony fingers curling themselves over the edges of the armrests. He was the master of revenge! Surely he could think of something.

You don't really want to humiliate her, Severus, hissed a voice in the back of his mind. You're just bitter because she has your job.

"Oh, shut it."

And now she has me talking to myself? He groaned at the realization. How terribly obnoxious. He closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. But, as he tried to clear his mind, her face suddenly flashed into his thoughts. That kind smile, those big, hazel eyes, that satin-like hair..

"Oh for the love of...!" He smacked himself in the forehead out of sheer aggravation, his eyes flinging themselves open again.

What is wrong with you? Stop that. She's despicable. She always was a stuck up, goody-two- shoes, never-wanted-to-talk-to-you-Gryffindor girl. She couldn't have possibly changed and you know it. Forget the revenge, Severus. IGNORE HER! That's what you always did best with her kind.

"Yes, I expect so. I'll just pretend that she doesn't exist."

Exactly. Good thinking. She can't get under your skin if she doesn't exist.

He gave a satisfied chuckle as he settled down even more in his chair, the warmth of the fire making him, at length, feel drowsy. He felt a little more at peace with himself with his mind finally made up about the whole matter.

Snape eventually drifted off into a serene slumber in front of the hearth, his dreams subconsciously continuing to turn to the woman who'd been plaguing his thoughts earlier, although his thoughts about her were much different as he rested, quietly, in his comfortable chair.