Chapter One

Why the bloody hell is everything always so high? Abbigail, or Abbi as she preferred, thought as she struggled to balance on her the tips of her toes and yet she was still centimeters from being able to reach the book she wanted. Just a little more she thought, as her fingers almost brushed the binding. Whoever decided to stack books horizontally on top of an already obscenely tall book shelf should be hexed, or shot. Shot would be more appropriate, she thought, seeing as how this was a muggle bookshop. If it wasn't this wouldn't be an issue, simple accio charm and the book would be in her hands.

Abbi jumped slightly and her fingers finally contacted with the book, knocking it off the opposite side of the shelf.

"Ouch!" A man's voice exclaimed.

"Oopsy." Abbi whispered to herself, poking her head around the shelf to see who was the unfortunate victim of the hard bound edition of J.R.R. Tolkien's There and Back Again. A tall, lanky boy stood there, rubbing the crown of his head and looking at the book in his hand. Abbi stepped around the corner, "Oh Merlin! I am so sorry, are you alright?"

The boy raised his eyes from the book to her face, though was still looking down at her. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. His eyes, which looked almost black, stared at her from a frame of long black locks. His hair was shoulder length, almost as long as Abbi's blonde curls, and hid most of his face from her.

"I'll live," he said quietly, holding the book out to her, "I assume you wanted this?"

She took it and held it to her chest, "Yes thank you, they stack things just a little too high here for me. I really am sorry about that."

"You really don't need to worry about it," He smirked at her, "Did you really say 'oh Merlin?' "

Oh damn, she thought, how would she ever explain that one to a muggle?

"I, um, just read The Once and Future King and I guess it just slipped out." Her voice was soft,
and he could tell she was grasping at straws.

"That could be true," he said slowly, "or you could be a witch."

She was a bit taken back by this, maybe he was not the muggle she presumed but there were not many magical residences in this part of town which was part of why Abbi preferred it so.

"Well if I am a witch, are you a wizard?"

"I might be." He was leaning against the book shelf now, arms folded across his chest, his eyes never leaving her face. He was enjoying watching her try to figure out whether he was a joking muggle or not.

"I see, and what do I call you, wizard?"

He held out a hand and she grasped it, his long fingers encircling her small hand. "I'm Severus, and you are?"

"Abbigail," She smiled and added, "But please call me Abbi."

"Pleasure to meet you, Abbigail," He smirked as he said her name, drawing out the syllables just a moment longer than necessary. "I was planning on getting a cup of tea at the diner next door when I left, would you care to join me?"

"Sure," She said, "just let me buy this book and I'll be ready to leave." She turned and walked away to find the sales girl to maker her purchase, not noticing his eyes watching her every move.

Soon they were seated across from each other at a round table in a quiet corner of the diner. The diner was mostly empty they seemed to have come it between the lunch and dinner rushes. Well that or this diner is terrible and no one ever comes here, Abbi thought to her self with a grimace. Thankfully tea is hard to ruin. True enough, soon two cups of steaming hot Earl Gray tea sat on the table, smelling divine.

He watched her blow her tea softly, then take a sip and smile before speaking. "You don't attend Hogwarts do you?"

She shook her head, "No but I am transferring there this fall. I was attending a private academy up north but with certain new circumstances that will not be the most desirable option anymore."

"Interesting," He said, taking a long draft of tea before continuing, "What year will you be starting?"

"My seventh. What about you? I assume you are a Hogwarts student."

"I am, I'll be in the same year actually."

She smiled, "Maybe dropping that book on your head was more fate than accident then. Must be a small world."

"Indeed."

"So," She said, "Anything I should know about Hogwarts? I have a cousin that goes there, but it would be great to hear about it from someone besides his and his annoying friends."

""Let's see," he paused for a minute to think, "avoid History of Magic classes like the plauge unless you enjoy being slowy killed by boredom, pay attention to the staircases, as they do like to change, and Slytherin is the best house to be in. That should be about all you need to know." He smirked at her and she wondered if that was a forced expression or more of a habit.

"Slytherin eh? That wouldn't happen to be your house would it?"

"Indeed it is."

"Might you not, then, be biased against the other houses?"

"Perhaps, but then that does not mean I am wrong."

"Touche."

He finished his tea and waved to waitress over, asking politely for a refill. They waited in silence for her, and when she returned she placed a small porcelin tea pot on the table. As she walked away he spoke again, "What classes will you be taking?"

"Charms," She said immediately, "potions, herbology, transfiguration and of course defense against the dark arts. Can't not take that one in times like these."

He nodded, "Sadly that is true. Perhaps we will have some classes together."

The clock on the diner's wall chimed out the hour then, it was 5 o'clock. "Oh dear," Abbi exclaimed, "I really should be going, my aunt will be wondering where I am." She stood up and he mimicked her. Again they shook hands, "Thanks ever so much for the tea, it was delightful." She smiled at him and turned to leave.

"Abbigail, wait." He called and she looked back at him, "What's your surname?"

"Potter." She said simply, "Abbigail Potter."

She turned and walked out of the diner's door, leaving Severus staring, dumbfounded. Potter? He thought, her cousin that goes to Hogwarts couldn't possibly be that Potter, could it? Where there any others? He couldn't, at the moment, remember. He threw the money for the tea on the table and walked out, glancing to see if she was still around but there was no sign of her. If he is, he thought, that fate truly has a sick sense of humor.