Part II

The lotus bloom

(i) The characters and world of Harry Potter are the property of the marvellous J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this.

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Padma Patil unlike her twin sister was a Ravenclaw. And for this reason, Severus had never been unduly harsh or cruel to her. Instead, her first-year Potions class had seen her fall in love with the art of Potions. Moreover, that opening speech her Professor made about the magic of potions had slithered its way into her heart and she had fallen in love with the man as well, captivated by the passion and the purity of emotion that was in his face and voice. Of course, she hadn't realised it was love just then. Instead, unlike others, she had quickly made Potions her favourite lesson and had left it at that. The assignments had been fascinating, and together with her lab-mate Morag McDougal, they had felt the benevolent side of the taciturn professor. It helped too that Morag found Professor Snape just as brilliant a teacher. They both basked in knowing what he was talking about, in working together to perfect their assignments, in learning from a Master the subtle art of potions.

Morag had been Padma's best friend from the very first night in Ravenclaw Tower. A pureblood like Padma, they had much in common. Their families, though prescribing to the need to preserve their slowly dying heritage were also forced to admit mixed blood into their kin. So, when one night after a particularly interesting lesson Morag had whispered in confession that her father said Professor Snape was a Death Eater, just as he had been, Padma listened wide-eyed. There had been rumours of course that he was a Dark wizard, but this just made him more attractive to the imaginings of Padma's romantic young heart.

The two friends continued to work together and often talked about their growing love of potions, of their mutual discovery into the power that elixirs and pastes had to heal and change. With their love of potions and its power came an awareness of the undoubted brilliance of their master. Morag found him frightening though; she had heard stories of Professor Snape's brilliance at making undetectable poisons from her father, who had said he was one she should never cross. Padma just listened. For her, Professor Snape's ability to frighten a man as powerful as Angus McDougal just made him all the more fascinating and worthy of respect.

When their second year came, Padma looked with even more fascination at the former Death Eater. He was so elegant and assured as he glided up and down the aisles of the classroom. His carriage was so upright, his stalk like that of the pictures she had seen of the big cats prowling through the Bengal jungles. She was entranced. No man had ever dazzled her sensibilities so decisively. Even as her twin mooned foolishly over the fop Lockhart, Padma quietly admired the dark man. Seeing him best Lockhart at the duel merely cemented her conviction that no other man could match the Potions Master in sheer presence and power. He was everything a man should be.

Indian pureblood girls were taught about marriage from a very young age. Why, her mother had been betrothed to her father, a man fifteen years her senior, at the tender age of thirteen and had been a bride at fifteen as was customary in high-caste well-to-do families. Since summer, her mother had been speaking of finding them suitable partners from families in India, but Parvati's tears at not leaving her friends or finishing school and her father's pragmatic insistence that for a successful life in Britain, a complete education was an essential commodity had quietly brought that conversation to a close. But as the girls had whispered together about what they wanted in a potential husband and Padma, as always, the practical one despite being named after a lotus, had drawn up a list, she had realised that the attributes she had listed pointed immediately, at least in her mind, to Professor Snape. Whereas Parvati wanted a blond, handsome gora or white boy, someone popular and fun-loving, Padma wanted someone mature, dark, intense, intelligent and well read.

Padma was no fool. When she realised she had feelings for her professor, she did everything she could to hide them from her house-mates, fellow students, as well as her twin-sister and the rest of her family. She knew it would bring her nothing but grief.

But this did not mean that her attraction faded. She watched him as surreptitiously as possible. And as her sexuality slowly matured, the only man she dreamed about was him. She would whisper his name into the silence of her four-poster bed as she explored her body, recalling his deep and sensual voice as he lectured. It was his sinuous stalk that slithered its way into her mind as she dreamt of her first kiss and brought herself to culmination. As third year drew to a close and she learned through her sister's Gryffindor gossip of his bravery in standing in front of a transforming werewolf, she realised she was deeply, irrevocably in love. It was not rational or logical, but he was the only one who made her feel this way. She had tried looking at the other older boys; hoping one of them would divert her growing attraction for the dark man. But no one else would do. She was coming to suspect they might not ever do.

A/N: Love it or hate it, please let me know what you think.