Disclaimer: I am sure I don't own Harry Potter. Trust me.

A/N: This is a short story I've been working on. It will have a lemon in a later chapter, so some of you may want to stop reading now. Or not, I'm not here to jump to conclusions. Depending on how it goes, I might continue it, I have a few ideas I could try out. I hope you like it.

After The Yule Ball

Chapter One

She had always caught my attention. Even as a first year, her potion-making skills towered over that of others her age. It was common to find her reading at the Slytherin table during meals, oblivious to the chatty housemates all around her. She had no friends, as far as I could tell. Her books were all the company she ever seemed to need, and I found that both curious and interesting at the same time.

I had always liked her. Not only because she was of my house, but because her personality had struck me as captivating. She was mysterious. You could never tell what went on behind her pale blue eyes. Oh, those eyes. Never would they be as deep and piercing as my dear Lily's were, but no one could resist the way her eyes sparkled when she was excited, or how they grew wide when she was on the verge of mischief.

I was now accustomed to that sparkle that flashed me every time I inspected her always perfectly brewed potions. We locked a speechless dialogue that said enough for hours of conversation.

Amelia Parker was her name, or, as everyone called her, Amy. A simple name for a girl who displayed the most complex array of emotions one could ever dream of seeing.

I confess, at first sight, I mistook her introverted nature for arrogance and superiority, seeing as she was always eager to share a correct answer with her peers. Only then did I realize her actions were an attempt to grasp my attention. She admired me and, naturally, I was flattered. If only every student had respect for professors the way she did, I might actually find a true pleasure in teaching.

There is a brief, yet interesting story to our friendship. Convinced that Amy was yet another one of those show-off know-it-all's, I had sent her to detention in the beginning of first year. By her looks, one could easily mistake her for a rich, spoiled child. But I later came to realize she couldn't help it. She walked with a majestic elegance that had no intention of putting her above others. Instead, she feared a different posture would make others look down upon her. Those were wise words for an eleven year old.

As a punishment for her rather cheeky comments during one of our earlier classes, I kept her in my office, sorting old assignments into folders, while I corrected the previous day's homework. I do not remember how our conversation got started, but that evening, Amy confided me with all her secrets and luggage a girl so young should not carry.

She witnessed the deaths of all her close family members between the ages of one and five. With no one left, she was sent to live with an aunt in London. A few years later, she got married, and sent the child to the cares of her grandmother, an ancient woman who lived in the countryside.

Amy spoke casually of the subject and, by the time we were both finished, she had carefully organized all files in alphabetical order, sorted by year and house. That evening made me see her for what she really was: a lonely, damaged soul haunted by the ghosts of the past and who, somehow, found a way to hold her head high day after day. I must say I found an inspiration in her like I had never thought possible.

From that day on, she began to demand less attention during classes, slowly sinking into a quiet, shy personality. I would occasionally hold her back for a word for I figured someone with a past like hers must need someone for a simple conversation from one who could understand their feelings without judgment. For some reason, I did not want her to feel any more rejection than she already had.

The other teachers could never fully understand her. They would often complain to me of her indifferent attitude towards them. She told me the other classes were boring, and the professors couldn't hold her attention for long. I believe that changed within a few years.

In over 10 years of teaching, she was the only student to send me cards on Christmas and even on my birthdays. I did find it inappropriate at first, but then, she was the one variable in my never-changing life. For the first time in years, I felt human. Funny how the feelings I had long abandoned were instantly brought back by the innocence of a child.

That was, however, exclusively for her. During the times when she wasn't there, staring at me with her large blue eyes, I was back to my cold, menacing ways. The others just didn't deserve any softness from my part, if you could call it that.

Her fourth year was, coincidentally, the year the Potter boy entered his first. I would occasionally complain to her about his arrogance, constant habit of getting in trouble, and general disrespectful behavior. She would listen to all my wasteful rants in silence, but that was all I needed. Someone to listen to me. Someone to understand me. Something I hadn't had for longer than I could remember.

As Amy aged, she realized that she did not need approval from others. She became so sure of herself that I had never expected her adolescent attention-seeking methods. Her body began to reshape itself into a more mature appearance. Her development was faster and, allow me to say, more successful than that of her peers. Not that she wasn't stunning enough. I'm sure many of her housemates disliked her due to pure jealousy. But her new appearance gave her an attention she was not ready for and did not know how to deal with.

As the months went by, rumors began spreading and reached my ears. I was shocked to learn that the sweet girl who dazzled with her big blue eyes had created a reputation of being... I don't know how to word it. Week after week she was with a different boy, some older, some from different houses. She was often caught sneaking about after hours.

She had also started a habit of putting off her homework assignments, getting concern from all her other teachers. Naturally, I was asked to have a conversation with her, not as her head of house, not as her professor, but as her friend. The entire staff expected me to sort out their newest trouble, for I seemed to be the only one she would listen to.

I called her back after classes, one morning, before lunch. She sat on my table, crossing her legs. Her long blonde hair was swept to one side, and her robes unbuttoned far beyond what was acceptable.

I swallowed back my repulsion towards such behavior and began, "I'll be very straightforward, miss Parker. Your behavior these past few months has been unacceptable. Dumbledore has personally asked me to handle this situation and, quite frankly, I find that greatly unnecessary. I understand the unfortunate lack of a fatherly figure in your life might be the primary cause to this... situation you find yourself in, but you must put an end to this immediately. Are we clear?"

Amy nodded. Her face was flushed and she was clearly embarrassed. I had never been so harsh on her but I fear it was for the best. She left that room to return to her usual self. She may even have made friends after that, I do not know. We grew slightly apart, but I would still stop by her cauldron to receive a small smile and a flash of pale blue light from those curious eyes of hers.

She made it through fifth year, achieving good results in her O.W.L.s. Her top marks in potions did not only make me proud, but also content that I would still be seeing her in my classes. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to her. Not yet.

A/N: This is not the end, there will be more. Please leave a review. Liked it so far? Hated it? I would like to know. Thank you for your time.