The Gryffindor was quiet. She never felt she had good enough reason to talk much. That, and she didn't really have anyone to talk to, even if she'd had the inclination.

Alice was in her seventh year, and you might assume at this stage she'd have more friends than she did, but she didn't.

The girls that shared her dorm never wanted much to do with her, and it wasn't as if the Muggle born girl had anywhere else to meet magical friends.

There had been that girl a year ahead of her, who had been kind to her. She'd taken the time to chat her up, sit with her at lunch sometimes, and even let her tag along on a few trips to Zonko's during Hogsmeade weekends. She was popular, with a bubbly, loud personality, not to mention bubblegum pink hair, so all together she couldn't have been more the opposite of Alice. But she had graduated last year, gone off to Auror training, and Alice hadn't been brave enough to ask if she could write to her.

Professor McGonagall invited her to her office for tea about once a month, and Alice had plenty of conversations with Madam Pince while in the library, but other than that, save a few friendly ghosts, she kept to herself.

And that Monday Alice sat alone, as she would on any other day, at the workbench inside her Potions classroom. Today might have been like any other day, except that it was the first day of a new school year, and, except, that it was her seventeenth birthday.

At the present moment, she felt a little fuzzy, her head still aching slightly. She'd woken with such a bad headache that she'd skipped breakfast in order to visit Madam Pomfrey for some relief. She had a feeling that the pounding in her head had been caused by the dreams that she'd had the previous night, although if she thought about it, she wasn't even sure that dreams could actually cause headaches. But these dreams had been strange. Very strange, indeed.

At first she had dreamt that she was swimming in a fizzy, lime green liquid. Where small, dark figures darted and flipped within the depths beneath her treading legs. As she soon discovered, when she looked above her, she was floating in the mixture of a gigantic cauldron, that was suspended in the middle of the black, star studded sky of deep space.

Then the cauldron tipped, and she was poured out onto the flagstone floor of the Hogwarts Entrance Hall; suddenly and inexplicably dry. Then, the doors to the Great Hall were opening in front of her, and she entered, seeing the space empty except for a simple wooden desk in the very center of the room.

There was someone sitting behind the desk, but they were only a hazy, grey smudge, almost like her eyes couldn't quite bring them into focus. As she looked around, she realized there were hundreds of neon signs, not currently turned on, covering every wall of the spacious room. They were shaped like rounded speech bubbles, all different sizes, and each with its own dangling, metal chain. They reminded Alice of the comic strips in her Grandfather's Sunday paper.

This struck her as very odd, of course, considering these were something she'd expect to find in the window of a Muggle pub, not anywhere near Hogwarts.

She walked toward the desk, curious to find out who its blurry occupant was. But as soon as she reached it, the chains of the signs were pulled by some invisible force, all within a fraction of a second of one another, snapping and clicking in a choir of echoing metal, until each was lit. Every color of the rainbow illuminated from the walls, the room now buzzing with the vibrating hum of electricity. Then all at once, the glowing colors from the lights zoomed toward Alice, beelining from all directions at great speed, and crashed right into her head. It was as if she could feel each individual color entering her brain, and she was knocked down onto her back from the force.

And then, she was awake, drenched in sweat with the worst headache she'd ever had. It was bad enough to make her nearly vomit into the small bin by her bed, but she managed to dress herself, and make it to the Infirmary before heading to the dungeons for the class she was currently sitting in.

She was nearly finished with her quiz on Common Poisons and Their Antidotes. The room was silent as Professor Snape casually paced the room, looking over shoulders to check on their work, with a warning of a raised eyebrow every now and then if students were whispering or messing about. For very brief moment, when he passed her desk, their eyes connected as he continued up the aisle. And then as he was walking away from her, Alice heard him utter an odd phrase.

"...much too thin."

She quickly looked up again, from where she had just began to write out the answer to the last question. But he was simply walking away from her, lazily scanning the parchment on each desk as he passed. No one else in her row had seemed to hear what he said.

Alice knew she was far from curvy, she might even use the word 'lanky' to describe herself, but 'much too thin'? She didn't think so.

The Professor returned to the front of the room, no expression on his face, nothing to indicate he was waiting for a response from anyone in particular.

Several thoughts were running through Alice's mind. Why would he say that? Did he even say it? She supposed it was possible she'd imagined it, she wasn't exactly feeling her best today.

She decided to try and forget about the occurrence, by putting her attention back to her quiz. It worked, until just a few minutes later, when from somewhere behind her she heard,

"...an illness over the summer, perhaps. ...Much too thin.."

She turned to see Professor Snape standing at the gargoyle basin near the back of the room, casually swiping his wand as several small jars rinsed themselves under the stream of water. He was again turned away from her, but this time she knew for certain that she'd heard something, and that it was him who'd said it.

"...being raised by that cretin, hmph. Undoubtedly he's been formed into quite the ungrateful brat..."

Whoever 'he' was, she didn't know. But at least she knew now that he wasn't talking about her.

Professor Snape, it seemed, was simply thinking out loud.

It was quite bewildering. Did he not realize he was doing it? Did she ever remember him doing this before? Should she say something?

She was still turned around in her seat, watching the cloak-clad back of him when he started speaking again. The last jar set itself down on the shelf and he turned, mid-sentence, to begin walking back to the front of the room.

And Alice was frozen in fear when she realized that she was definitely hearing him, but he was not speaking.

"...cannot believe how much he looks like Potter. ...exactly like him…"

His mouth wasn't moving, but she was hearing him. Very clearly.

"...he won't be here until Friday, and only one day a week. Double class, but only once. I can handle once a week."

She simply sat in there, in shock, until the bell rang out signalling the end of class. And then she scribbled something quickly so as not to leave her quiz unfinished.

The rest of the day she could think of little else. Was she truly hearing her Professor's thoughts? Was she the only one who could? It had seemed that way. And who was it that he had been talking, er, thinking about?

Alice was knew that 'Potter' was probably Harry Potter. The entire student body as well as the staff were buzzing about him at the moment. The Boy Who Lived, now eleven years old, had started classes at Hogwarts that very day. And whoever Snape was referring to, the one who was much too thin and possibly sick, apparently looked just like him.

Alice also put together that first years were the only ones who had Potions once a week on Fridays, as a double class. But Professor Snape had seemed almost nervous about being around this person, and why on earth would any student, not to mention a first year for Merlin's sake, make Professor Snape nervous?

Over the next several weeks, Alice watched her professor a little more closely. She had decided to do a bit of experimenting, to see exactly how this, thing, worked. Eventually, she found that she could only hear his thoughts when he was near, and only if they shared eye contact first, however brief.

She tried to hear him they were at opposite ends of his classroom, and it worked. She tried hearing him without looking into his eyes first, that didn't work. She listened to him when she was in the Great Hall, sitting nearest to where Snape was eating at the High Table, and then she slowly walked toward the doors… his thoughts fading as she got further away, and finally disappearing altogether about ten steps into the Entrance Hall. But just before they did, as she stood on the other side of the double doors, she noted she could still hear him, even though she couldn't currently see him.

Once, he scolded her while out on his nightly rounds. She was studying alone in a quiet hallway, books and parchment strewn all over the floor, and had lost track of time.

"There are only two minutes remaining until curfew, do you really think you will have this mess cleaned up and be back in your common room before then?"

As he was saying this, he seemed to be reciting parts of a poem in his head. It was very strange to hear his speaking voice and, what she was now referring to as his 'mind's voice', simultaneously. As well as very difficult to concentrate enough to pay attention to both.

"...One among us seven will let you move ahead, Another will transport the drinker back instead,"

No, Alice realized, it wasn't just a poem, it had a tune to it. He was... singing.

"...Two among our number hold only nettle-wine, Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line."

"Go on, before I tell Filch I've got another student to hand over for detention."

Apparently, even Severus Snape could get a silly song stuck in his head.

She also discovered that her ability to hear him would last for about four to five hours, before they would need to make eye contact again, even if they went 'out of range' of each other in the interim.

This was discovered because once he looked at her when he called on her in class in the morning, after which she could hear him thinking. Then later, after she'd been across the school and back again, Alice was passing through the East Wing on her way to Herbology, and she heard his voice, his mind's voice, before she saw him.

"...These damn bandages.. Of course its bloody bite had be cursed. Couldn't be healed with a simple...Ouch! And it's bleeding again, just BRILLIANT."

It took her very much by surprise, as she hadn't been expecting to hear him in that moment, in that corridor, far from the dungeons. She was already a bit on edge.

There had been a Troll, you see, the week before, inside the castle. It had been quickly captured and removed, Thank Merlin, but there was an air of caution still lingering about. Most students weren't admitting they were still scared or nervous, but everyone was walking to and from classes in groups, and ending up in their common rooms well before curfew.

"...I'm lucky it was only my leg and not my bollocks. No, Quirrell is lucky it wasn't my bollocks.. And Albus, that damned old codger, I told him to do something about the idiot before something like this- now where's my damn dittany… there it is."

She then rounded a corner to see Professor Snape leaning against a stone statue of an angry looking wizard. He was rolling his sock back up, then he stood, allowing his pant leg to drop back down, and put a small bottle into the folds of his robes. Alice, in her startled state, had apparently stopped walking, and was staring at him.

"Is there something you need assistance with, Miss Bainbridge?"

"Oh... No, sir."

"Then are you capable of walking or do I need to alert Madame Pomfrey of a student struck dumb in the middle of an empty corridor?"

"Yes- I mean, no. Sorry sir."

Over the next few months, she began to notice that Professor Snape was looking a little worn out. He seemed tired, a bit more sullen, if that was even possible. And by mid-February, it was an especially tough time to be a student on his bad side. He took twenty-five points away from his own house just because Oscar Finley scared a Hufflepuff girl with a charmed paper frog.

It was then Alice decided to really listen in, to try to see if she could figure out what was troubling the teacher. Even though, admittedly, she didn't know what she could possibly do with the information.

She quickly realized that apart from Potions class, there weren't actually many reasons for a Gryffindor student to be in close proximity to the Slytherin Head. But an opportunity presented itself about a week later, a few days after the Gryffindor-Slytherin quidditch match.

The extra credit that Snape had posted was a two hour session of helping prepare ingredients for the Draught of Peace. It included grinding Moonstone into powder, very tedious work, and making Hellebore Syrup, a flower that emitted an especially unpleasant odor when boiled. So, Alice signed up, determined to find out what was causing such distress for her teacher.

And it might have worked, her little plan, had she not made a mistake.

It was Thursday evening after dinner that she found herself in the dungeon classroom with her sleeves rolled up and her face over a steaming cauldron. There was also a pair of Ravenclaw boys in the room, (they'd practically shoved her out of the way to get to the Moonstones first) who had had signed up as well. As she was setting up her supplies, Alice pretended to have forgotten the exact amount of water needed, to get Professor Snape to look directly at her. And then after that, she began her work of making two gallons of Hellebore Syrup.

Watching over her four simmering cauldrons a bit distractedly, she listened to his mind.

"...Shit. Did I remember to set the stasis charm on the PepperUp? ...No, that's right, I did."

He didn't seem to be thinking about anything in particular tonight, but she kept listening anyway.

"...I knew the forest would rattle him. It was quite amusing seeing him jump out of his skin over a damn bowtruckle."

When the two hours were nearly up, she carefully funneled the reduction into thick glass jars, sealed them, and sat down to make the labels. The other boys had just been excused, having finished powdering their Moonstone and putting the small containers into the small supply closet.

With only the two of them left in the room, Alice watched the Professor out of the corner of her eye. He sat down at his desk and leaned back in his chair, staring off into the room, at nothing in particular.

"...Christ, I could sleep. Maybe I'll tell the old man I'll come to his office tomorrow night instead. Yeah, that's what I'll do. Tell him I'll come when I'm good and ready."

She placed the labels on the jars with a sticking charm and then one at a time carried them to their proper place in the cupboard. Then she gathered her quills and capped her ink bottle, paying more attention to Snape's thoughts than what she was doing.

"...maybe, one of those water things, she had one in her room. That thing used to help me sleep. Now what was it called…"

"...Liquid light... No, Lava Light…"

"Lava Lamp." The words were out of Alice's mouth before she realized what she'd done.

Snape's head snapped toward her, and on his face was shock, confusion, horror. And fear. For some reason, it was that one that scared her the most.

He didn't move for what seemed like an excruciatingly long time. Neither did Alice, she didn't dare. And then, moving much faster than she thought him capable of, he was out of his chair and around the desk, a spell was thrown from his wand toward the classroom door, she wasn't sure which, and he was suddenly towering over her, his face only inches from her own.

"Make sure that the next words you speak are chosen carefully, do you understand?"

Alice, swallowed. And nodded.

"Explain yourself. Now."

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snoop, I was just-"

"Snoop? SNOOP?"

"Well, yeah I-"

"What did you do, Bainbridge? Tell me, right now, exactly what you did."

"I didn't do anything! Not really, I can just, hear you. When you think."

Snape face fell, he looked like he'd just been told someone had died. He backed up a little, like she might have something that was contagious.

"How? How is that possible?"

"I don't know, I don't know how it-"

"How long? Tell me how long have you've had the ability to hear my thoughts inside my head, Miss

Bainbridge," Snape demanded, his voice raising again and stepping back toward her.

"Um, since the first day of class."

"SEVEN YEARS?"

"No! No, the first day of this year, just this year."

"Does anyone know about this? Anyone at all?"

"No, no one."

He wiped a few strands of hair off of his forehead and breathed deeply.

"Sit down. You will answer each one of my questions and you will answer them honestly. If I feel you are not being truthful or giving incomplete answers I will resort to methods other than just simply asking. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

The next hour in that classroom was intense. Professor Snape interrogated her about everything and she told him everything, About how she'd discovered they had to make eye contact first, and then it would last a few hours until they looked at each other again. About how far apart they could physically be until she couldn't hear him anymore.

He would repeat it all back to her, asking her if he had everything exactly right, and then have her tell him everything again. After a few rounds of this, Alice realized that when he would repeat it back, he would change a small detail or two, to see if she would correct him, if he would catch her in a lie.

She didn't lie, of course. She wouldn't have been capable of it if she tried.

He also had her go over everything she did the morning that it started in painstaking detail, again and again and again.

Throughout these conversations, Snape seemed to fluctuate between completely irate to composed, to terrified, and back again. It was exhausting just to watch.

"I'm going to send you back to your dorm now," Snape said, finally. "But I need to make this very plain to you. We are not done figuring out what to do about this, I will let you know in the next few days when we will meet to continue this discussion. You will not speak a word of this to anyone. Not a soul. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Now go."

Alice stood on shaky legs, slung her bag over her shoulder and walked to the door. Right before he reached it, Snape said, "And Miss Bainbridge, you will stay out of my head in the meantime."

It was an unambiguous command. One that she would most definitely abide by.