4. Chapter – Potions

„Trust dies but mistrust blossoms."
(Sophocles)

This summer I made the decision to stop pretending I was just a mediocre witch.

To be honest it wasn't an entirely voluntary decision rather a matter of great necessity. I have always liked reading and learning new things and even the Dursley's couldn't beat my enthusiasm out of me. Though, they forced me to consciously fail at my assignments at school. Obviously, I couldn't have been seen as superior to Dudley in anything.

Now that my mind, body and soul straggle with coming to terms with what happened to me, I just had to find SOMETHING to keep my mind off of... it.

The teachers are delighted with my work, Ron sulks and Hermione has a hard time accepting my improvement. She has always enjoyed being the cleverest of us all. And she is intelligent. Everyone with a brain the size of a pea can see that, however, for my tastes she relies too much on the knowledge found in books and on the word of authorities.

Don't get me wrong, I love my friends but even I can admit not to trust either of them entirely.

How can I? Ron gets always jealous over some silly little thing and Hermione's answer to all kinds of questions is a certain book or Dumbledore. Besides, do they even know me? There is such a large part of my life they have never been a part of. A part I have never told them about. And I probably never shall.

From the moment I stepped into the wizarding world I have always been scrutinised and so the stares aren't anything new to me. However, Snape has never paid me so much attention before. He is very subtle about it but I can still feel his eyes on me during the mealtimes I wage a war with my stomach to accept at least a few bites.

Rationally, I know I must eat more for I have already lost too much weight and it has only been a few short weeks. Considering I have never been more than thin, the situation isn't entirely good. But forcing myself to swallow food that tastes like ashes to me, is a torture. When I actually manage to consume something, I have a nightmare or a flashback and it all comes hurtling out again.

Why do I even care? I wonder.

But back to Snape. I have no idea what his problem is and as long as he lets me be, I won't let it bother me.

During our Friday's potions class I lose myself in the brewing process. I confess to like the manual labour. Despite it being my chore at my relatives, I rather enjoyed cooking and potions making is somewhat similar.

When Snape approaches Hermione's and mine working table to inspect our work, I come immediately to the here and now.

Snape is standing over three feet away from me but he is still too close. The feeling of being oppressed is only increased by his strong presence. I do my best keeping my focus on my potion and endure his usual snarky comments. In comparison to the many other times he has insulted me or my father, I don't feel anything.

I don't feel the need to protect the honour of my fa... of James because I am no more the little girl who idealised her parents and couldn't hear anything besmirching their good name. Not after seeing Snape's memory during one of those disastrous Occlumency lessons. Not after reading between the lines when Remus and especially Sirius told me animatedly about their era as the greatest pranksters of Hogwarts. Personally I thought Sirius as well as my... as James two bullies and Remus with Peter two spineless cowards.

If I were on friendlier terms with Snape, I might have openly agreed with him. As it is, I just let him know that his attempts at making me angry wouldn't work. Not this time. Not anymore.

I assume he will leave it be, however I am proven wrong. As he dismisses the class at the end of today's lesson, he orders me to stay behind. I know I have no choice but to obey and so I slowly clean up my work space and put my books and quills in my book bag while my classmates hurry to get away from the dungeons to get some early lunch before the afternoon classes start.

When the last person leaves, Snape closes and wards the door. This makes me even more apprehensive than I already was but I force myself to calm down.

I have no idea what he wants but I am sure it is not his intention to physically harm me. Therefore, I focus on breathing in and out and wait for him to bring up whatever he wants from me.

After about five minutes of just leaning against his desk and studying me, my patience is rewarded.

"Miss Potter, how are you feeling?" He asks me in his smooth voice and I cannot detect any hint of disdain in his voice. It sure isn't what I expected him to say and in my surprise I raise my head and watch his blank face and expressionless eyes.

A year ago I would have feared being legilimised by him but after several month of hard work, I managed to erect shields around my mind and I was pretty certain he wouldn't be able to break them without a lot of effort on his part.

I am not sure whether his question is genuine or not and I am just baffled by him even asking after my well-being. However I can't read his face or his relaxed posture. He really is the perfect spy and it is no wonder he has survived this long. I might still not be sure about his true allegiances (if he even is true to one side) but in contrast to June, I don't care which side he might lean more to.

He waits patiently for my answer and I don't want to anger him by prolonged silence, so I give him my standard, polite answer: "I'm fine, sir."

"Don't lie to me, Miss Potter! Or do you think me blind or stupid?"

I shook my head in response. I don't want to fight. I do have neither the strength nor the will to argue with him.

He comes sweeping at me and I flinch when he takes hold of my chin. Immediately, he lowers his hand from my face and takes a step back.

I don't want to look him in the eyes and see the disgust or disdain directed at me. I am a coward, I know but I am also very much aware of the fact that it wouldn't take long to turn the shattered pieces of me into dust and nothingness. I am literally hanging on by a thread.

"You are anything but fine," Snape growls and brings me to the present. "You are paler than death. You look like you haven't slept in months. You are thinner than a corpse and it is like the fire in you has gone out."

There is something strange with Snape's voice but I can't figure it out. He sounds angry. Maybe a little frustrated. I know I am missing something, however I am so tired and at the same time so tense, I can't be bothered by it.

"What happened during the summer?" I have never heard the Potions Master use such a soft voice before. But I cannot trust him. Why does he suddenly appear as if he cared? I know he has saved my life several times over but he has always done so grudgingly but not once in the six years had he shown a sign that he cared what happened to me. In fact, he rather gave the impression of enjoying me being in pain.

I don't want to argue and I have no energy to raise my voice let alone shout or scream. However as he has never lied to me, I shall be honest with him.

I gaze into his dark eyes and say: "Why do you suddenly care? You have never before? Why start now? Why should I trust you?"

The look on his face is answer enough for me. He doesn't have an answer to those questions or he isn't willing to divulge the information to little ol' me.

There is silence for the next few minutes.

"Madam Pomfrey should have a look at you," he states and this makes me more scared than anything. I am certain everything would show up on her examination and then they would know.

They can't. I couldn't live with myself if they found out. How could I ever look anybody in the eyes? How could anyone want to be near me or look at me if...

I shudder at the mere thought of it.

NO!

They can never know!

I feel panic overwhelm me and in desperation I latch onto the heavy robes of my potions professor and I beg him not to make me.

"Please don't make me! I am alright. I can scrub the classroom and all the cauldron for the rest of the year, just please don't make me see her..." I ramble on, not aware of what I am actually saying or that I have managed to shock Snape into speechlessness.

I only snatch from it when I feel thin muscular arms close around me drawing me into hard chest. At once, I fall silent, flinch violently and then stiffen so that I could pass for a statue.

Snape doesn't move either. He doesn't remove his arms encircling me. He doesn't press me closer to him. His arms are loose enough so that I could get away easily.

My breathing is uneven and I am fighting the flashbacks trying to force me into their thrall.

I don't want to! Please, don't make me! I scream inside my head.

I feel my control slipping but then there is that smooth silky voice reaching my ears through the haze in my mind, bringing me back to Earth.

"...you are safe. I promise. There is nobody here to hurt you. Don't worry about Madam Pomfrey. You don't need to see her if you don't want to. Shh..

Now breathe. In... and out. In... Out..."

After several minutes I cease to take in gulps of air and my raging heartbeat starts to slow down. To calm myself further I focuse on analysing the scent I take in with every breath. It iss musky, with hints of coffee, smoke and sandalwood.

For some unexplainable reason the scent, the voice and the warmth radiating from the hard chess feel comforting to me and I start to unfreeze from my stiff position.

I don't know how long we stand there, in the middle of the classroom. It can be only minutes but also hours. I don't know. For I register only this incredible feeling of comfort, of safety. I don't remember ever feeling like this. It's like I am in a cocoon where nobody can reach me. Can hurt me.

It's a heady feeling.

In the end, my mind catches up with me and then the realisation, just in whose embrace I find myself, hits me like a bludgeon.

Snape obviously senses my growing discomfort for he takes hold of my upper arm and leads me to the nearest chair.

A second later a steaming mug full of hot chocolate is pressed into my small, pale hands and I am ordered to drink. I look into the brown liquid and raise the mug up to my lips to take a careful sip.

The Potions Master takes a seat opposite me with his own cup of strong coffee so that the work desk is between us. I am grateful for this small reprieve. I need distance from him because I am confused.

I berate myself for losing control so easily but there are more pressing matters and so I push any self-criticism concerning the lack of control over my emotions to the back of my mind. I need to make head and foot of this situation so where do I begin?

Facts:

There is mutual dislike between Snape and me.

Snape acts suspiciously today – as if he were concerned for me.

I lose it. (no denying there)

Snape helps me calm down. (all right – makes me)

I feel safe in his embrace.

Hm. Makes no sense at all. How did he manage to calm me down? Why didn't I react as violently to his touch as I usually do? Why did I feel comforted and safe in his presence? And how was I able to relax (if only slightly) in such close proximity to him when I am normally so tense around him?

Can I trust him?

I don't know.

Can I trust the way he made me feel?

...

When I take the last sip of the chocolate, I decide to forget about the whole encounter. I don't trust him and I don't understand why I felt comforted by his presence. He is no friend of mine or even someone else close to me. He is one of my least favourite professors at Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake.

Apart from that, right now I am not ready to give my trust to anybody in any way. I may never be...

Putting the empty mug on the desk, I push my new experience into the back of my mind and fidget nervously with the hem of my long sleeves. I am embarrassed about my behaviour earlier and want to apologise to the man for causing him nothing but troubles. Frustratingly, I don't know what to say.

He has already finished his coffee and I sense his eyes on me. I ready myself for the scolding which is coming for my outrageous conduct but he surprises me once more. For when he speaks, he doesn't sound angry and he doesn't say anything concerning my nauseating behaviour.

"So, no madam Pomfrey?" His voice is neutral as he says it. Hesitantly, I shake my head. Where is the spiteful Snape who is always angry at me gone? He confuses me.

"When was the last time you had a whole night's sleep?" He asks still with his bland voice.

Where is he going with this?

I start to shrug because I don't know the answer to either of those questions but I catch myself in time. It wouldn't do to infuriate him with impoliteness and if he is – at least partially – the Severus Snape I know then I am well on my way to making him more than just a little mad at me. Therefore, I force myself to speak up.

"I don't know, sir," I say and for some unexplainable reason I add: "The Dreamless Sleeping potion doesn't help."

He nods his head in understanding but there isn't any other visible reaction to my answer.

"Why don't you eat?" He asks and once more he doesn't say 'Miss Potter' or 'Potter' as he is known to do. I am not sure but he seems to make an effort to keep our little chat as neutral as possible. Or he might just want to cajole me into answering. Whatever the reason, I cooperate. For the moment.

"I can't," I gasp out because only the thought of food makes the bile in my throat rise up. I forcibly swallow and put my feet on the chair so that my legs form an additional shield between my Potions Master and me.

"You will kill yourself." It is not a question but a statement and I know it to be true.

Yes, I will. My inner voice adds a little sarcastically: 'so what?' I can't help but agree. I don't want to die. Not necessarily. But I find myself wondering whether dying wouldn't be easier. I don't want to fight for every breath I take and if I have to die, as the damn Prophecy states, then I would prefer leaving this world on my own terms.

I tell Snape something similar with my head bowed. I don't want to see his expression as I imagine it must be. Sneer on face. Angry look. Maybe he is smug because he has always known I am too weak. Well, guess what, I really am.

There is a long silence. It's not comfortable at all and I wish he would just dismiss me.

In the end he says that he will brew a Nutrient potion for me and orders me to take a vial before each meal.

"And Miss Potter, I will know if you don't take the potion," are his final words before he allows me to leave and I know he will.

I am not sure what happened between us or why he was so... well nice to me today compared to our previous encounters. I really don't know but what I am sure about is that I don't trust him.

I don't want to trust him.