Chapter 2

Ariel had thought long and hard about approaching Madame Pomfry. She had never reveled her gift, and it was a gift, to anyone other that her parents and brother. Although they did not know why, those in pain were drawn to her. In the Hufflepuff Common room, sixth and seventh year students would often sit with her. She was sensitive to the body language that accompanied depression, the posture and facial expressions of those in physical pain. She know things an eleven year old shouldn't; the telltale signs of alcohol or drug abuse, what type of cuts and scars long sleeves covered. Those who were happy and healthy were simply crowded out.

Away from her family, this alone was wearing her down. She ate less and often had trouble sleeping.

But one person simply overwhelmed her. Never before had she felt pain radiate off another person. She had been dizzy entering the potions dungeon the first time. Sitting in the back of the room helped a little. Even so , every nerve tingled. When the class finally ended, she ran to the girls lavatory and vomited like she would never stop. Suddenly exhausted, she went straight to bed.

It went on for weeks. She found a quiet girl named Honey to help her learn the weeks Potions lesson, since she was all but unconscious during the class.

"He scares me too, but you have to find a way to pay attention in class. You really can't learn Potions from a book. I glad to help, but you need to pull yourself together."

Ariel stared at Honey. It had never occurred to her that other students were afraid of Professor Snape. I guess he is intimidating, she thought with a small smile. Honey was looking at her strongly. "I'll try," she reassured her friend.

She limped along this way until November. Then, the detentions started. Two , sometimes three a week. They were torture. Alone in the potions dungeon, writing lines or scrubbing cauldrons, Professor Snape was no more than a few feet away. Thank Merlin, he never touched her. But she could not block the pain. It was an aura around his body. Her empty stomach churned as she cried herself to sleep feeling a despair she couldn't understand.

To add to the problem, other Hufflepuffs were growing impatient. They could not understand why she was loosing so many house points. No one was sure why she had so many detentions, but the results weren't good for their house. Only those is the greatest pain would sit with her at meals or in the library, never suspecting why her company appealed to them. Of course, her detentions were caused by the same thing.

The turning point had come on a rainy January morning. Arriving in the dining hall late after another restless night, the only remaining seat had been close to the faculty table. Professor Snape had been sitting adjacent to the Hufflepuff table. He played with his food, mostly drinking coffee and staring into space. She couldn't eat, not a bite. Suddenly the realization hit her. What she felt was simply overflow, in all likelihood a very diluted version of the pain he must feel. How could anyone live like that day after day?

Who could help her? Who would believe her? Who might understand her need to help, to heal, even at great personal cost? Miraculously, the answer walked in and sat down at the staff table. Who could understand the need to heal better than a Healer?