It was a strange mixture of resignation and amused disgust that overtook her upon hearing the news. She would have liked to say she had been surprised, shocked by the vulgarity of it. But she couldn't be. She couldn't even deny a certain objective necessity for it. A marriage law was certainly arcane and unpleasant to more modern sensibilities but in the current climate one couldn't claim them to be without use. It was unfortunate for her that she happened to be muggleborn but it wasn't like the law was a personal one meant to strip her of freedom and dignity, although it did do the last part. It was an unfortunate generational and temporary law that would leave the future less hostile to her kind because they would so outnumber the purebloods. At least that was the idea of it. Her kids would only know of them as an outdated and distasteful adult past and her grandchildren likely wouldn't know a "pure wizard" under seventy. Any child to slip through the current constrictions would necessarily be one conceived in extramarital affairs. These would be rare given the extent of fidelity charms linked to the new marriage oaths. The laws forbid any pureblood match that didn't already exist. Once the muggleborns were taken up then a pureblood would have to look for a muggle.
She assumed that the ministry would be forced to make a match for her since she was generally regarded by her peers as a strange and unpleasant girl. She wasn't the kind of person that got invited to parties often, at least not anymore. She had changed over the past few years, watching the war unfold and taking as little part in it as she could. That included a strong desire for solitude and escape. A desire that had already existed but that now overwhelmed all others. She had seen too many things happen to her peers, had seen too much of what they did to each other, each side of the war equal in its lack of humanity. Or she should say in their apparent abundance of it. She would often find herself gazing off in public, happily content in watching a self-created show in her head. She thought in pictures, now more than ever and didn't think she had felt in front of anyone in years. Where an emotion should be felt, she saw a picture of it. Fittingly, she thought, a mere reflection. People who didn't know her on the streets would often come up to her and ask if she was alright. She had the sneaking suspicion that she wandered around, always looking as if she were lost like some child who couldn't find her mother in a large department store. Her face felt expressionless to her when she was around other people. It was as if it had forgotten how to smile or frown or in any way express what the wearer was feeling. Maybe she just looked sad. Regardless, she found it every time to grow more uncomfortable, more embarrassing because she knew that she was quickly becoming a young woman and that she should be gaining an air of confidence, rather than watching it slowly ebb away. It wasn't like that when she was alone, when she knew that there was no soul within earshot or eyes within sight that could lock onto her own. Then she felt like she had as a child. She had been a curious creature, always talking to everyone she could. She had wanted to know everything about them, what made them different or similar to her, what they liked, what they hated. Now she wanted nothing more than to not know. She liked to collect people's secrets when she was a kid. She had known by the slight yellowing of her father's eyes, by the hour he went to bed, by the attention he showed her- for he never looked twice at her in a day when he was sober, that he was drinking again just as she had known that in the same room her mother was happily unaware and that the knowledge would destroy their marriage. She had known once the divorce did come that the woman who came to play bible trivia once a week was a prostitute and not the woman her dad paid her to pretend she was, even though she had only ever seen her acting like any girlfriend would. It didn't make sense that such a young, beautiful and attractive woman wanted to be with her elderly, alcoholic father. She had been too charming, too sweet and intellect had danced in her eyes as she got every question right. She had been very good at her job and she saw why her father loved the illusion of her and had known how it would end. He proposed and she had run off with his car. To this day he sent her money and hadn't seen her or the car since. The trend of knowing what sequences of events would happen to people didn't end when she received her letter to Hogwarts. She had known the moment she got the letter that she would go, even if it were some strange hoax. She had also known that to do so would be to estrange herself from her parents forever. That's one of the reasons she had wanted it. Her father, she knew would begin yelling once again and wondering how he had produced such a stupid child that she believed in magic. He would then say it was the same sort of trash her mother believed in. Her mother would disown her because she was deeply religious and would not suffer a witch under her roof. That's when they had finally split. He to find a young, pretty thing willing to play the part of her mother while he called out her mother's name in the throws and she to remain abstinent and take pride in her lack of sin. Daphne had run away when it was time to begin her first year. It had taken some weeks to find Hogwarts but through sheer luck and enough talking to crazies in the street one of them had turned out to be a wizard by the name of Macnair. The memory of whom she would rather like to forget. Fortunately, some wizarding officials were not far behind him as he was on an executioners hunt for some magical beast that had broken into the muggle world.
Once at Hogwarts she had set about creating a new family of friends. There had been Susan Bones, who she had loved dearly, but which had ended in disaster. Megan Coleridge, a girl she now hated with every fiber of her being…Felicity Antioch who now fell under the category of Megan's friend…and many more who had been acquaintances but who had not breached the barrier of love. But she wouldn't think of them now. There was no point. Right now she was supposed to be considering the paper in front of her and not acting like some idiot trauma victim that couldn't escape the flow of her own memories. She wondered who it would be that the ministry would deem fit for a girl like her. She also wondered if St. Mungoes was looking for a new patient but doubted that possibility since she had an empty wallet. The hospital shoved psychiatric care down the throats of every wealthy witch and wizard they could and provided them with the drugs to make them need it. But a girl with empty pockets wouldn't do them any good at all.
The ringing of the bell on her dresser startled her lethargic body into action. It was dinner time. She didn't keep the alarm because she forgot when dinner was served in the great hall. Her growling stomach kept remarkable time but because she knew if the alarm didn't absolutely tell her that it was time that she would avoid looking at clocks until it was too late to go upstairs. Last semester she had been treated to multiple visits by Professor Snape silkily warning her that if she did not go with the rest of her house to eat that she could expect to starve in the dungeons with Filch. She had told him flatly that she didn't mind and had spent three days helping Filch clean while she pretended to agree with him that students should be tortured. Filch liked her very much and acted disgustingly like she was his adoptive child. As long as she kept her disgust and hatred of him quiet she had the full reign of the castle. After three days without food Snape had rescinded his offer and sent her hollow eyed down to the infirmary for nourishment. For her part she would rather be with a brutish, nasty man like Filch than around the cheery laughter of the Great Hall which echoed around her skull. Every time someone touched her as she walked past she had to force herself not to shudder. The large crowd and the noise it produced made her feel like she was drowning in limbs and heat. She imagined it to be one of Snape's sadistic little pleasures. By making her go there he must know that he was sentencing her to an hour's hell. Of course she knew this wasn't the case and that he was only doing his job. That didn't always take the edge of her bitterness towards the nightly torture away.
The Great hall was booming in its usual fashion, although she imagined it took on a slightly more uncomfortable din. Muggleborns were already beginning to receive notifications in the mail. Mostly from purebloods already coupled with a muggleborn. The stress of having to push forward relationships at such a speed and so against the natural course of a relationship must produce a lot of discomfiture for them, she thought. She couldn't help but feel sorry for so many young men and women having to be thrust into adulthood this way. It occurred to her that maybe she ought to feel for herself but she couldn't bring up the luster to care. Maybe St. Mungoes would take her after all, she thought as a picture of herself smiling popped into her head. The image did wonders to further the humor of the thought. She glanced up to find Snape looking at her inscrutably again. He had been doing that ever since last year's event. It was like he was probing her with his eyes, trying to discover something in her form that would neatly tie the ribbons of thought in his head. "Oi, mudblood!" Theodore hissed from beside her. "It looks like Snape has made his choice." This met with a giggle from Pansy Parkinson who rewarded his wit or as she thought, lack thereof by leaning across the table and letting her robes fall apart just enough so he could watch as her small but perky breasts bounced to the movement of her mirth. She considered Pansy for a moment. The girl had outgrown her awkward childhood looks and blossomed into a decent looking, though not beautiful young woman. She was definitely fit as she paid hours of attention to making sure of it daily and her features weren't as pug like as before. She had a fairly average face but her skin was clear of blemishes and she used her youth to full advantage. Never mind that she was a slag. "Let's face it," Daphne thought to herself, "how many girls don't go through a phase like that?" Not many from what she had seen of her classmates. No, sluttiness was not something she would hold against Pansy. What she did find repulsive was that Pansy held any flaw in anyone else against them.
She turned her attention back to Snape, who for his part had ceased paying attention to her. She let her eyes drink in the lines of his profile. He was definitely not what one might call classically handsome. His hair fell limp and lank across his shoulders and his face was pale with weary wrinkles around his eyes. His nose could at best be called Romanesque but that sounded too romantic and didn't indicate what it really was. Large. Way too large for his sallow and sunken face. What he did have was an unnerving and beautiful grace. In another life, she thought he could have been the Fred Astaire of the wizarding world. She also thought that she would like to tell him so one day just to see the flare of agitation and shock cross his hooded features. It occurred to her that Theodore could be right. Snape was a man and she was not unaware of her own basic beauty. Though she did much to hide her body by cloaking it in layers and unapproachable expressions, she had caught many an eye gazing at her in the same lustful way her father used to gaze at his prostitute. She also knew by looking in the mirror that her tall slender body had curves that many girls envied and that her face, unlike Snape's was symmetrical and matched itself. She had almond shaped eyes with heavy lashes framing bluish green irises with little flecks of gold that shot out from her pupils. Her legs were long and shapely and she had a pair of tits that would make a porn star jealous. Yes, Snape very well could have designs on her now that law said he had to pick someone. That didn't bother her, however, because even if the thought occurred to him she doubted he would go through with it. It would cause too much scandal in his workplace. Lust was not reason enough for that in Snape's case. She thought him too sensible and private a man to make such an overt display. He preferred subtle and would likely pick some quiet mousy little wife, his own age that no one would comment about and he could comfortably ignore. So what was it that kept drawing his eyes to her? Maybe it was just a lust thing that he would never act on but it could be something else…
Snape looked back at her and caught her eye. As he did so his left eyebrow arched so high on his forehead she was afraid it would disappear entirely into his hairline which was saying something since it was receding slightly. He looked mildly…amused was it? That was why she liked Snape so very much. He was difficult to understand even though his habits were highly predictable. She couldn't read him in the same way she could read the intents of most people. It was the same with Dumbledore. She couldn't fathom a thing about that quirky old geezer either. Snape broke their gaze and slowly stood up. He gracefully pushed his chair back into the table and addressed his colleagues as the plates of food he had been eating off of disappeared with a crack. "I have some business to attend to." He briefly nodded in the direction of the headmaster and respectfully said his name before turning to go. He walked slowly towards the chair she was sitting in. "My office. Now." He said slowly, letting the short syllables slide off his tongue like burning acid. Her cheeks fell into a deep blush as she thought about what Theodore had said and how this must appear to her fellow Slytherins. Snape impatiently lifted his arm and pointed to the door. She heard someone say as she was leaving, " I wonder if he'll give her detentions if he doesn't like the way she sucks his cock." And the oily response that could be no other than Draco Malfoy, "Filch seems to like it. The bint can't walk in the room without his cock springing into action. Did you see the way…"
"Detention Mr. Zabini, Mr. Malfoy. Tonight, in my office." Snape said, although without the malice that could be heard when he said the same to a Gryffindor. Contrary to popular belief Snape was not above giving detentions and doling out punishments to his own house. He just didn't make them public and embarrassing like he did to the other houses.
She followed him down the long, narrow corridors that wound their way to Snape's office door. The dungeons were usually cold but particularly so tonight and she inwardly cringed as she felt her nipples harden under her shirt. Snape wouldn't be able to see through her school robes but it was enough to send a warm blush through her because she had the eerie suspicion that Snape could hear the thoughts she was having about her body. This led to an embarrassing domino effect of thought and she immediately began thinking of the most embarrassing things she could be caught thinking… if someone were able to read her mind. This happened anytime she thought of legilimens since she had learned about them and she thought about them nearly every time Snape looked at her in that piercing way of his. Images of the most graphic and disturbing pornography she had ever seen began flicking their way through her mind. She recalled a naked Japanese girl getting beaten with a large squid and subsequently getting fucked with it. Then she thought of the man she had seen getting fucked to death by a horse. A muggle neighbor had shown it to her on the internet before she got her letter to Hogwarts. She thought about nipple clamps and gangbangs and rape fantasies and dearly began to hope that if he were a legilimens that he didn't only receive pieces but understood that it was her mind betraying her unwittingly by making her think of the worst things she could be caught thinking about and not things that she approved of or liked. She was tomato red now and getting frustrated with herself. Why did this always happen when she was around Snape? She guessed it must be his strange and unnerving character that brought it out.
"Please try to calm your mind Miss Greengrass. I'd rather not know about your fantasies."
The Miss Greengrass in question stopped dead in her tracks and could feel the bile trying to make its way up her throat. "That's…inappropriate use of power. That's…I mean to say that…Those aren't my fantasies. Those are things I've seen or heard about. They aren't things I enjoy. It's a trick my mind likes to play on..."
"Enough. I do not wish to hear any more of your blatant excuses. What you do in your spare time is not my concern, however…exciting." He let the last word linger making it sound like the dirtiest word in the English language. Ah, she thought to herself. He knows exactly what I needed him to. Otherwise he would be horrified instead of mocking or not be dwelling on the topic. It was a talent Snape had to take truths and twist them into something dirty to make students uncomfortable and indignant. It was his way of disarming an opponent. Why he insisted on making students opponents she could not fathom. Maybe one too many acted up and now he just throws them all into the same bag, she thought. Maybe he had a bad time at Hogwarts. It was likely enough given his odd looks and how she had seen most unattractive kids horribly picked on by some bully or other. But that was no matter, now.
"What did you want to see me about, professor?" She took the seat in front of his desk. The room was a plain one with very little in the way of decoration. A floating eyeball or two in a jar to scare first years and that was about it.
"You are a very powerful natural legilimens and Dumbledore has finally broken my resolve not to train you." He spat with some disgust. He believes you may have a unique version of the sight, though I doubt it. He believes that you see bits of the future before it happens by unwittingly tapping into people's minds when you are physically near them. He also thinks that explains your social awkwardness but I don't think there is any hope on that count."
'How do I get rid of it?" She asked, ignoring his snide remarks about her person.
"You don't." He stated simply and matter of factly. "You hone them."
"That sounds a lot like extra work. I think I'll pass. Turning in enough homework assignments to scrape by is time consuming enough. If that's all, I would like to go to bed now." She wasn't sure why she decided acting like a prat was the best course of action but she somehow couldn't help herself. She wanted to go back to her dorms, perform a privacy spell around her bed curtains and think about what Snape had just told her. She did not want to sit in front of this man while he told her what to do about her issue. She didn't want to be helped by Snape. It somehow felt pathetic and a bubble of embarrassment, encouraged by the images that Snape had caught hold of from her mind, began forming in the pit of her stomach. Her privacy walls were breached and she hadn't given permission. She thought of legilimency as a sick sort of mind rape and at the moment she wanted to kill Snape for entering her.
"Oh, by all means," he replied. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your brooding by helping you do something about your problem."
She cringed, knowing he was right and hating the fact immensely. For the first time in three years she allowed her face to make an expression in front of someone else. It was a hideous blend of anger and fear taking the form of a curled lip and crinkled nose complete with a furrowing of the brows. It was almost a snarl, but it was something.