Author's Note: This story takes place five years before the arrival

of Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.

"SLYTHERIN!" shouted the tattered Sorting Hat. Alexis Zarinsky got

up quickly and sat down at the Slytherin table amongst their cheers.

Since her name was the last on the list, the Start-of-Term feast

immediately began; it was a smorgasbord of wonderful food, but

before she realized it, the feast had ended, and she was departing

for the Slytherin dungeon. Before she fell asleep, however, her

last thought was, 'What will happen tomorrow?'

* * *

The following day turned out to be quite interesting;

Alexis already knew a few spells from home, having come from a

wizard house, but she was still just as eager to learn as the next

student. Each class was more and more interesting than the last,

(with the exception of Magical History,) but her favorites by far

were Potions and Transfiguration. Although she hadn't taken an

exceptional liking to either of the teachers of those subjects,

Snape and McGonagall, she still liked them to some extent. Her

entire semester progressed without a hitch, and she was doing

exceptionally well in all of her classes. As a matter of fact, she

did well up until her third year at Hogwarts.

That's when she was Branded.

* * *

Professor Severus Snape rarely took any interest in his

students unless they were Slytherins who did well in his class; one

of those students happened to be Alexis Zarinsky. She had been

doing progressively better with every year, achieving more in her

first three years than some of his students would ever achieve in

their seven years of experience. But when Zarinsky came back from

Christmas break something seemed very wrong with her. Snape himself

hardly cared, but what bothered him was that her grade was suffering

and it wasn't just in his class, either. It was in all her classes,

as he'd found out, and she was acting highly unusual.

Snape had never thought of her as a flamboyant

personality, but she was colorful to say the least; she always

dressed in robes that basically had 'original' slapped all over it.

And Zarinsky herself was an incredibly polite, cheerful person who

might have made it as a stand-up comedian had she been born a

Muggle. Naturally, he tolerated none of her nonsense in class, but

every once in a while he'd hear a good joke from her general

direction of the room. Although he never smiled at them, once she

said something that almost made his lips curl, but somehow he

managed to refrain.

The person that came back from break, however, was

someone completely different; Alexis Zarinsky was no longer a

happy-go-lucky girl who loved life.

She loathed it.

And Snape could not figure out why.

Alexis Zarinsky sat by herself at the Slytherin table,

plotting new ideas in the back of her head. She was clothed in

designer black robes, her new color of choice, and she also wore a

sneer on her face that projected loathing for the world and others

around her. Anyone that looked her directly in the eye would have

said she looked "dodgy" or "suspicious." Those who knew her best

simply characterized her as "temperamental" and "proud." Either

way, she was someone not to be messed with, and half the Slytherins

did their best to avoid her. The other half talked to her only of

schemes and plots to get the Gryffindors or other things.

* * *

It was Christmas break, in the middle of her fourth

year, and she sat alone at the Slytherin table; the rest of the

Slytherins were at their respective homes with their families.

Severus Snape observed her morosely; her grades had picked back up

again, but Alexis Zarinsky remained the unhappiest person he'd ever

met. She sighed as she picked at her food; the Christmas feast was

tonight, and Snape wondered if she would even show up.

Suddenly Snape felt an angry burning sensation on his

arm and he grabbed it painfully, grimacing slightly so as not to

show anything to the outside world. Luckily practically no one was

in the Great Hall with the exception of himself, Zarinsky, and a few

other teachers. But what he saw in Zarinsky almost made his stomach

turn; she was grabbing her own forearm in pain, her grimace a

reflection of his. Ignoring the throbbing pain, he immediately

stood up and strode to her, grabbed her by the robes, and dragged

her out of the hall. "Professor Snape!" she said, "What're you

doing?!" The moment they were out of sight, he grabbed her arm and

ripped the sleeve back to reveal a black, burning Dark Mark on her

arm. His eyes fell on it with the utmost distaste and fury,

"Explain," he snarled.

She looked down at the stone floor, "I don't believe

the answer is lying on the floor, Miss Zarinsky. Look at me when I

address you!" he snapped. She looked up and he noticed she was

fearful of him, "You want to know about this?" she said, holding up

her arm. "Why do you think I've been so miserable since my third

year? I was Branded!" she hissed, "I was Branded without a choice!

My family is a bunch of Death Eaters! Anything you can do to help

me? No!" Immediately she stormed off to her room, but Snape caught

her by the arm, "Don't you talk to me that way! I am your Potions

Master!" he snapped. "Let go of me you damn Death Eater!" she

hissed, shooting daggers at him with her eyes. He released her arm,

"What did you say?"

"You're a Death Eater! I saw you grab your arm in the

Hall! You're just like the rest of them! Well go report to

Voldemort's inner circle and tell them I don't want to be one of his

little rats! Damn the lot of you!" she whispered. Instantly she

was running to the dungeon before he could react; for a moment he

was silent, then he raged after her. "Miss Zarinsky come back

here!" he roared, but she ran undeterred to her room. Soon it was a

race to see who would get there first; unfortunately for Snape,

Zarinsky won. She turned back to him, staring at him through her

doorway, "Don't you close that door!" he shouted, striding at her

with a look that said "Death." She smiled at him curtly, then

slammed it shut as hard as she possibly could.

It was unfortunate for Snape that she warded her door

with about seven different spells, and there was hardly a thing he

could do about it, what with her being a Prefect. So he waited

until Christmas dinner, hoping that she would show up so he could

give her the ass-chewing of the century. For fifteen minutes, she

did not show, and then, by some unexpected turn of events, she

showed up; Snape personally suspected that Dumbledore had something

to do with it. She seated herself at the end of the table, far away

from anyone else, although there was only one table to sit at this

Christmas since there were so few students and faculty.

Snape immediately stood up and strode down to her end

of the table, with an intent, angry look on his face. "Miss

Zarinsky, may I see you in the hall for a moment?" he said through

gritted teeth. She looked up at him, "No you may not. I've just

received word that this may be my last Christmas " A few heads

turned toward her, "Yes, let's talk in the hall," she said, getting

up and following him out. A moment later, he was facing her with

pure loathing, malice, and hatred. "This may be my last Christmas.

Ever," she said, "so if you're going to punish me, I'd rather you do

it after the dinner than during as this shall be my last Christmas

feast." "What on Earth are you blabbering about?" he snarled

angrily. She looked up at him with a darkened gaze, "I've just

received word from Voldemort that I am to take part in a Raid

tonight. So unless you have another clever idea, I suggest you

leave me alone."

He almost felt like slapping her for that last remark,

but kept his temper under control, "And why would this be your last

Christmas ever?" he retorted. "Because this isn't one of the usual

Death Eater Raids," she snapped. Realization dawned on his face,

"Yes, you know what it is I speak of," she hissed, "one of the

kamikaze raids. I am to lead the party, without question. We all

know what that means. First one in, last one to leave; my death

certificate is practically being signed as we speak." He avoided

her gaze for a moment, thinking. "There's no way out of it," she

replied, "I will die, and everyone will think me a Death Eater when

word has spread. Everyone will be interrogated, including you," she

said, stabbing his chest sharply with an index finger. A thousand

ideas ran through his head, but none of them were any good; there

was no way to get out of this one.

Midnight crept past ever so slowly, but still no signal

came from the grate of the fireplace in Alexis Zarinsky's room. A

green fire would ignite, followed by the head of Voldemort himself

popping through it; but so far, the night had led to nothing. It

almost made her wonder what was taking so long, mostly because she

wanted this to be quick. Instead, the hours kept on and on, until

it was three o'clock in the morning; he was four hours overdue.

Suddenly, a fire ignited, but it was not green; the head of Severus

Snape popped in, and it was very bloody and bruised. "Professor!"

she whispered, "What's happened?" "Climb through the fire and get

here, into my chambers," he grunted, "I need your assistance."

Without a second thought she followed the head through

the grate and back into his private room. She emerged from the

fireplace and dusted off her robes quickly, then realized that Snape

himself was leaning against the mantelpiece right next to her. He

looked incredibly beaten, and his arm looked broken; "Professor what

happened?" she whispered, fearing the worst. "I took your place at

the Raid," he replied steadily, shifting his weight slightly, "and I

have no desire to go to the Hospital Wing. So if you could kindly

help me " "Of course," she said, instantly at his side and helping

him to his bed, which he sat on promptly. "Why did you do this?"

she asked, pulling out her wand, "You could have been killed." As

soon as her wand was out, spells began flying; his arm healed, and

he stopped bleeding.

"You could have been killed as well," he replied, "and

I couldn't stand the idea of a student being killed. I had to do

something, as much as you don't deserve it." He winced as she

dabbed at his eye with something she'd Transfigured from her pocket;

but afterward, his eye felt better. "Well," she said, testing his

arm slightly; it had healed completely. "I don't appreciate it,"

she snapped, "you must have gotten a high and mighty feeling from

doing that, but don't let it go to your head, buster." He looked up

at her immediately, "What?" She put her hands on her hips, looking

very put-out, "I don't need anybody to save me. I'm perfectly

content with getting myself killed, and I don't need a man to save

me!" He stood up abruptly, winced from the pain, "You think this is

about you?!"

"You just said you were saving me on purpose! Who else

could it be about?!" she retorted, Transfiguring the stinging

solution back into an object that she put in her pocket. "I'm

sorry, but the entire world doesn't revolve around you," he snapped.

She let out an angry noise, and hit him in the stomach, knocking

him onto the bed; he groaned from the bruises on his stomach.

"Serves you right!" she squeaked, stomping out of the room, down the

hall, and toward her own chambers without a second thought. He sat

on the bed for a moment, not sure what to think, then climbed under

the bedcovers, and fell into a confused slumber.