A/N: Hi. Yes, it's me. Ok. Well. You may know me from "Road trip" or "Even Heroes Have the Right to Bleed" or "Draco's 24 Hours of Life," my most popular stories (no, I'm not big-headed, but most of my readers read one thing then read the other). I started a fic, Freakshow, that I really liked but I wasn't pleased with the review number for the time I put in. So, I am tenporarily taking it off and putting this up. I enjoyed writing it this very much and I hope you enjoy! Until then, don't count chickens in a basket and don't put all your eggs before they hatch.

Please like this. If you don't… I might have to punch you in the hand (don't ask). Ok. Well. On with it. Because I know that you didn't click on that link to talk to me! Oh, and Road trip Ch 21 will be up very soon for those of you who wondered. See ya.

Disclaimer: You must have a short-term memory disorder. If I didn't own Harry Potter in my other stories, then why would I own him now? *Idiots*







"Yes, mother. Yes, mother. No—no, mom stop. No, I'm not going to. Yes, of course. No! I'm hanging up! I mean it! Mother! MOTHER! Please. Of course. No, not that. Yes, he's fine. No, I will not. Mother… Mother! I am really hanging up this time. Okay, mom. Love you too. Bye."

Charlotte clunked the receiver against the base of the phone, sighing in frustration. Phone calls with her mother always left her exasperated, and Charlotte was tempted to hit her head against the receiver as well. The idea of a bruise on her forehead didn't appeal to her, however, and so she restrained herself.

"Hurry up in there!" whined a familiar voice from beyond the curtain. Charlotte peaked her head out of the telephone booth of the Teacher's Lounge.

"Clamp it, Argus," Charlotte snapped, and realized that in her early stages of her teaching career that it was best not to make enemies. She decided to line her face with a smile and added, politely, "I mean, I'm done. Sorry, please take the phone."

She slipped out of the booth, wondering why Argus Filch, the caretaker, had to use a telephone. *Oh, that's right* she noted silently as she strode out of the Lounge and into the busy corridor. The bell had rung and students milled around as if in a bee's nest. *He's a Squib. Of course, I had to use the telephone to speak with Mother. She just had to insist on living in the Muggle realm.* Even in her mind, Charlotte pronounced Mother like a dirty annoyance of a word.

Actually, Charlotte figured that the telephone had been especially installed last year upon the requests of Argus Filch, since he could not magically communicate with others, and Sybil Trelawny, whose daughter Helena (residing in Queens, New York) would often try to reach her mother and keep in touch. *All the same, anyway. As long as it's there. Or better yet, if it wasn't, I wouldn't have to be checked on by Mother every frickin' five minutes.*

Charlotte pushed past a tall student who was frantically waving his hands and crowing to a small girl that frowned and tried to ignore him like he was a nuisance. Charlotte chuckled, remembering the last time she had come to Hogwarts, as a 7th year ten years before. She had been seventeen, not twenty-seven, and Hogwarts (besides the homework, of course) had been paradise. Unfortunately, Hogwarts would be a bit different this time. *Oh, well* Charlotte twisted a strand of her straight auburn hair around her index finger. *At least Sev's still here with me. Wait, did I just call that a good thing?*

As Charlotte mentally pondered this, her feet had been in automatic mode. The final bell shook her out of her thoughts and Charlotte blinked, surprised to find herself transported to the front of a classroom where twenty-nine pairs of wide eyes stared at her like an alien life form. Twenty-nine pairs equaled fifty-eight eyes, but although she was not immune, Charlotte was rarely susceptible to stage fright. "Hi," she announced, eying the students as they did unto her.

There was no reply. Charlotte immediately noticed that the green-robed Slytherins and the Gryffindors adorned in scarlet were on opposite sides of the classroom, segregated. An idea sparked behind her walnut eyes. "Okay, seating chart."

Those who were familiar with the term "seating chart" groaned and began spreading the word to those who were blinking in confusion. Pretty soon, the whole room resented the teacher that had yet to speak her name. Charlotte sensed the tension.

"My name is Professor Snape," she proclaimed, grinning broadly. The room went deadly silent for about ten seconds, and then simultaneously everybody burst out laughing. It took a few minutes for the uproar to subside, and when it did, they all stared at her.

"I'm Professor Snape," Charlotte repeated. This time, no one made a movement nor sound. "What's the matter with you children? Is there something I should know?" Charlotte watched as a brunette on the Gryffindor side timidly raised her hand.

"Yes, who are you?"

"Er, Hermione Granger."

"And can you answer my question, Miss Granger?"

"Um, I think so. You aren't Professor Snape," Hermione said very cautiously, the words tumbling out unsurely.

"I'm certain that I am," Charlotte replied calmly, although the smile never left her sprightly lips. "May I ask why you beg to differ?"

"Professor Snape," said Hermione, "is a man." Nervous laughter once more pervaded the air, and subsided. "He has black hair, and teaches Potions. You," continued Hermione, "are our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. You are a woman (more chuckling) and are short with brown hair."

Charlotte frowned. This was true. She was twenty-seven, and only five feet tall. Her eyes were a muddy brown, unlike Severus Snape's, and her hair was clean, straight, and auburn. "I supposed this would happen. While I am a Professor Snape, I am not the only one. You'll be calling me by my mother's maiden name, then. Professor Dames. Is everybody clear?"

Everyone nodded heavily, and Charlotte surveyed the class. She switched every other Gryffindor with a Slytherin. *Perfect* she told herself, nodding in approval. Every other seat was occupied by a student with a different color robe. Of course, each robe belonged to a disgruntled face, but not everything could be perfect.

"Professor Dames?" Charlotte nodded towards the boy who was speaking. His robe was emerald, and his silver blonde hair was gelled forward. He looked shrewd.

"Yes? Who are you?"

"Draco Malfoy," the boy said, as if it was the most honorable thing and she should fall on one knee because of it. A tall, thick boy beside him looked ready to. "I just wanted to know… are you Snape's wife?"

Giggling filled the room, and Charlotte inwardly laughed. How preposterous! While she would have loved to exclaim, "Of course not," she held her tongue. That could be considered disrespectful. Instead, she smiled warmly and politely answered, "No."

"Then you're his daughter," blushed a redheaded boy that she had placed in the front row.

Charlotte laughed aloud, and the Slytherin beside him scowled. "While I applaud your attempt at flattery, no. I am definitely not his daughter." Charlotte almost glowered when they asked if she was his mother—Sev was older than she!—but instead just shook her head. What were these students, fifth years? They were missing the obvious!

"You're Professor Snape's sister?" finally asked Hermione, the girl who had questioned Charlotte's title previously. The murmurs in the class died down, waiting for a reply.

"Yes," Charlotte said firmly, and the stir recreated itself. The questions began hammering her.

"Was he the same as a child?"

"How many years older is he?"

"Was he a Slytherin?"

"Is it true that he never bathes?"

Everyone laughed at the last one, Charlotte included. "It's not right to share his personal business," she made herself say, but inside she was dying to tell about the time when he tripped in the shower, cleaved his chin, and Charlotte had to drag his naked body out with her eyes closed tightly.

The class groaned, and the bell rang. Students grabbed their books and exited, in flocks of segregated houses of course, some very quickly while others took their time. Charlotte rested, leaning against the edge of her desk and closed her eyes tightly. *One class down, only a million or so to go.*

Her eyes opened, weary and yet lively. Charlotte had always been a firecracker, especially in the morose Snape family. Her father, Gregum Snape, had been killed when she was ten because Voldemort had doubted where his loyalties lay; after all, her father knew that the clever Dark Lord would eventually find out that he was a spy. He just didn't know it would happen so soon. Rosalyn, as a widow, had settled into a small village in England.

*Too bad she didn't settle in a small village on a different planet* Charlotte groaned. She loved her mother. Truly, she did. But the woman had dedicated her life from her husband's death thereafter to being a nuisance to her children. Whether it was "Do you have enough clean clothes?" or "Are you happy? Is Severus happy? Is that a real job?" or "You never call," Rosalyn Dames-Snape was the perfect image of the stereotypical annoying mother.

The worst was, of course, "Charlie, when are you going to get married? Settle down, have kids. Oh, I met this guy the other day, just your age. Financially stable, no kids, excellent sperm count…" Honestly, Charlotte could picture her mother at a coffee shop asking young men about their fertility factors. *It would be just like Mother* What was her mother's obsession with getting Charlotte Lucy Dames-Snape married? Charlotte had no idea; she just figured it was a mother-thing. But the sperm count—that couldn't be normal. *I shudder to think*

"Lottie?" Charlotte looked up, realizing that she had been gazing off.

"Hey, Sevvy-boy," Charlotte grinned. She watched as Severus Snape's mouth twisted into a scowl and his thick unibrow furrowed over his eyes. "Aw, c'mon, Sev, you know what Mother said. That face will get stuck that way," she teased, enjoying every minute of it. "And must you call me Lottie?"

Charlotte had been called many things in her life. Bitch, of course, was inevitable, for she was a female, subject to the thoughts of others of her kind, but nicknames. Her mother, and most of her guy friends called her Charlie, which she was cool with. Charlotte had always liked guy names, so this was her preferred nickname. Most of her female friends and her father had called her Char, which made the most sense. But Severus, when trying to be cruel, would call her Lottie, a name she so desperately despised. It sounded so childish to her, even when she had been four-years-old and Severus had started. But that was fine. If he called her Lottie in front of the staff, she'd just play the game, smirk, and say, "Hey, Sevvy." No one else dared to even think of calling the sinister Potions master anything other than Severus or Professor Snape. The again, no one else had seen him unconscious and naked in a shower stall. Okay, so she closed her eyes a little too late—she'd never make that mistake again!

"Charlotte," Snape corrected himself, drawling out the name dramatically. "I'm going for lunch. Care to join me?"

"Uh, sure," Charlotte replied absently, rummaging under papers littering her desk for spare dollars and change. "Who else is coming?"

Severus seemed to find this a ridiculous question. "Who else is going?" he repeated, a bemused expression vaguely resembling a smile popping up. "No one, of course."

"Fine. Be anti-social, but must you drag me down with you?" Charlotte moaned, pushing the heavy oak door open and holding it for her older brother.

Severus had been two years older then Charlotte in school. He had been a Slytherin, and she had been a Gryffindor. Needless to say, they hadn't talked much in school. Charlotte remembered idolizing the older Gryffindors that Severus had been sworn enemies with: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, and so on. Of course, Charlie would never admit to some of the crushes she had developed on them; Severus would have smothered her with a pillow while she slept (after all, at their childhood home their rooms were across the hallway)! Charlotte chuckled to herself and followed Severus as his robes billowed behind him.

"Why are you laughing?" he demanded, obviously displeased with her cheerful behavior.

"Your cape keeps hitting my ankles," Charlotte giggled, not bothered.

"It's a robe," Severus sneered, but he did gather the ends.

"Thanks, Sevvy," Charlotte teased, and then looked away to avoid his dirty look.

Two figures were approaching in the hallway, but Charlotte's so-so vision couldn't make them out. Severus turned around and gave her a meaningful stare, but Charlotte didn't quite get it. That is, until the figures became clear as they became closer.

"Severus," Remus Lupin nodded stiffly in greeting, stopping abruptly.

"Remus. Sirius." Charlotte blushed as her brother acting like a polite machine, stating their names factually.

"Who're you?" Sirius Black gave her a condescending glare. *Guilty by association* Charlotte gulped, realizing that she was being disliked by the fact that she was with Severus.

"Oh, you must not remember me," Charlotte piped up, her cheer not absent from her face nor tone. She was amused at their surprised faces, to see such energy from a friend of Severus Snape's.

"Should we?" Remus's eyes narrowed, more out of curiosity than suspicion.

"I'm Charlotte Snape. I was in Gryffindor with you, only two years behind." Charlotte waited while their crinkled brows cleared up.

"Oooooh," Sirius nodded, enlightened. "I remember you. Charlie Snape. That's right. You were always great with Defense Against the Dark Arts. Part of the reason I passed was with your help," Sirius winked. Charlotte felt her blood get hot and her face flush. Sirius tensed beside her, obviously not pleased that one of his (many!) archenemies was winking at his little sister. He may have been a cold person, but he still an overprotective sibling.

Charlotte almost winced as she felt her brother's arm placed on her forearm protectively. "Yes, yes. There will be plenty of reminiscing later. Let's go, Charlotte." He yanked on her arm, and Charlotte obligingly followed. She would have much rather stayed and chatted with HAPPY people who were NOT her BROTHER! But, she felt sibling loyalty and allowed herself to be led into the Dining Hall.

The room was inundated with myriads of screaming, jumping, and digesting students. Charlotte loved big gatherings and would have loved to sit in the center of the chaos; however, Severus tugged her over to the isolated table delegated to the teachers in the far corner. It even seemed to have a lonely shadow looming over it. *Just lovely.*

Severus was two years older than Charlotte, but most of the teachers, save Remus and Sirius, were many years older. Enid Flitwick**, who other than being thirty years Charlotte's senior, was at least a foot shorter, Hagrid was nearing forty, and Minerva McGonnagel must have been at least fifty. Cora Trelawny** was ancient, and Binns, the ghost was, well, dead.

Charlotte remembered being a student at Hogwarts; Minerva had strictly been "Professor," since she had been the Head of the Gryffindor house, and Hagrid had been the recent addition to the staff, with his shady past. Enid Flitwick had been old then! Charlotte wondered how Severus had adjusted so well to making his former teachers his peers.

"You must be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Enid posed excitedly, not asking nor stating it. "I'm—"

"I know," Charlotte smiled, digging into her mashed potatoes. "I had you for Herbology when I was in school." Enid's face fell, and Charlotte realized that that could be considered an age insult. She quickly took a swig of apple juice.

"Severus, I'm not so hungry," Charlotte shrugged. Her older brother was, however, having a heated debate over the elements of the first Definitum Potion with Minerva and waved her off. Charlotte cleaned off her tray and quickly edited amidst the crowds of students.

Lunch wouldn't be over for another half-hour, and after that the students had rest period for another hour. As Charlie stepped into the hallway, she jumped as her Muggle beeper went off at her side. She only kept the Muggle beeper for one reason, considering that there was only one person in the Muggle vicinity that would want to call her. Cursing under her breath, Charlotte stormed into the Teacher's Lounge.

Whack.

Charlotte grimaced, realizing that the sound effect had come from behind the door as she thoughtlessly swung it open. She cringed, waiting for the finger crouching behind the door to reveal him/herself with a lawsuit or something of the likes.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I'm so careless sometimes! Sirius?" Charlotte was surprised to see that it was Sirius Black that she had hit. He was wincing and holding his forehead with his left hand.

"Gee thanks—oh, hey, Charlie." Sirius seemed to lighten up when he spotted her and let go of his head. A lump was forming.

"Aidium hora," Charlotte spewed off, flicking her wand, and the bump of his head ceased its growing and began to shrink back behind Sirius's dashing, shaggy black bangs.

"Thanks," Sirius said, and they stood there awkwardly for a moment.

"I have to call my mother!" Charlotte blurted out. Her hand flew to her mouth; why did she just proclaim that? Her cheeks were growing hot and she quickly excused herself into the telephone booth.

555-6465. Charlotte punched in the numbers without thinking.

The ringing stopped before it started. "Charlie? Charlotte? Is that you? Charlotte? Charlotte? Are you calling?"

Charlotte bit her tongue, forcing herself to speak. Must her mother be so annoying? "Yes, it's me, mother," she replied, suddenly feeling exhausted.

"Goodness, I've beeped you, oh I don't know… fifteen times? Maybe twenty, after a while I just lost count. And those annoying telemarketers, they kept calling. Why would I want to buy Viagra, let alone over the phone? Don't these people research who they're calling? It's not like they just punch in random numbers."

*Yes, Mother, actually they do* "Oh, Charlotte said instead, feigning interest.

"Honey, what's wrong? What's the matter? Are you okay? It's hormones, isn't it? Oh, I knew this would happen. Fluxuating, aren't they? Well, I told you, settle down and start a family. Best way to help that estrogen is a baby, I always said."

Charlotte actually considered this one and automatically decreed it to be contradictory, but figured her mother wouldn't agree. And how was it that Mother could embarrass Charlotte even when no one was around, with her talk of sperm count and Viagra and hormones and estrogen? The blush from her encounter with Sirius was darkening, and Charlotte was thankful for the curtain that gave the phone booth privacy.

"Charlotte, are you listening? Charlie? Charlotte?"

"Yes, mother," Charlotte replied, this time through gritted teeth. "I have to go."

"Where?"

*Why—oh WHY?—must I be the offspring of the nosiest witch on the planet?*

"On a date," Charlotte quickly said, and what she actually told her mother hit her. *Uh-oh. If I though that that would curb the questions, I'd better brace myself for an onslaught.*

"Oh really? Splendid! With whom? Is he handsome? Oh, it's that French guy, Pierre, isn't it. When I saw him I just said, 'He is just oh-so-perfect for my Charlotte.' It's him, oh I know it. Where are you two going? Well?"

"You don't know him," Charlotte mumbled, a mischievous grin forming on her face, "but don't worry. I asked him about his sperm count, and it's good to go."

And Charlotte hung up.







**I don't know their first names. Someone please tell me! Oh, and I know my ages must be very off, but deal with it. Lol. Thanks a lot. Please review. That's what the blue button is for.

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down there



And I'm out…