4. From Dust to Beyond

"Honestly, Severus, we can't do this any earlier?" Isadora begged as she handed him several assorted potions ingredients from the storage cabinet near the classroom. "And why the hell am I up here in a skirt while you're down there?"

She heard him chuckle as he organized the ingredients into a crate to be carried down the hallway. "You're the one that asked me to assign the tutoring schedule. Ask your friends to sneak down to the Hog's Head on a different night if you're so desperate to join them," he replied sarcastically. "And you're up there because you weren't pushed into the vanishing step at an odd angle."

Isadora rolled her eyes. "How is that my fault? So Potter and Black pick on you. You know more Dark Magic than the two of them combined! Get back at them!"

Severus sighed from below her; the clinking of bottles against one another stopped. She turned awkwardly on the rickety wooden ladder to look down at her tutor, who was leaning against the wall, staring at the floor.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly.

His onyx eyes snapped up to look at her. "Get the lacewing flies and we'll be through here," he muttered.

She quickly grabbed the small jar in front of her and came down the ladder, handing him the glass as she went.

They walked down the corridor in silence, past several students who were on their way to enjoy their free Friday evening. It was several weeks into term at this point. Snape had chosen the most inconvenient of times for Isadora's tutoring sessions; every Friday night, she and a few fellow Slytherin (and one or two Ravenclaws, if they could be convinced) would sneak through one of the secret passageways that lead from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade, the village at the bottom of the hill, to enjoy a few pints at the Hog's Head. This term, however, it seemed like Isadora would be unable to join the festivities. Snape had chosen Friday nights on purpose – she was sure of it.

Something had changed with him over the summer, but Isadora couldn't quite place what it was. He was angrier than usual. She knew his family life wasn't necessarily the best, but that never seemed to affect him at school. The Marauders, as they so fondly called themselves, hadn't boosted their regular wave of yearly torture any more than last year, which should have made Severus a bit more relaxed. Whatever it was, Isadora wasn't going to find out.

Severus placed the crate full of supplies on one of the lab tables and began methodically removing each of the bottles, arranging them alphabetically. When he was finished, he waved his wand and the crate vanished. Isadora carried one of the smaller cauldrons over to the work station and placed it carefully over the fire that had just been lit.

"What are you doing?" Severus asked coolly.

Isadora audibly groaned. "Clearly something wrong, or you wouldn't be so quick to point it out!" She pulled the cauldron off the fire and slammed it onto the work table.

Snape did not retaliate, he simply raised an eyebrow and peered at her, menacingly. He was enjoying this.

"What is it, Severus?" she hissed. "What the hell is going on with you? The past month and a half all you've been doing is snapping at me for the smallest of things! If my parents heard about it, they might tell Lucius –" She threw a hand over her mouth, pissed that she had let that slip.

Now both of his eyebrows were raised. "Tell Lucius what, I might ask?" He slinked over to her until he was very much in her face – far too close for her own comfort. "What would your father possibly have to report to Lucius Malfoy about me?"

Isadora backed away from her classmate slowly. "Nothing, Sev. Forget I said it," she said quietly.

"I think that might be rather difficult for me to do, unfortunately." He was drumming his long, willowy fingers on the table impatiently.

"I'm not telling you, so you can stop trying to threaten me with that look," Isadora said forcefully. "We're supposed to be practicing potions, not seeing how long it will take you to scare me."

Severus laughed quietly and sneered at her. "Of course. Because what better things could I have to do on a Friday night than to teach the wonderful Isadora Starbuck the magic of potion making?" he quipped, and returned his gaze to the array of ingredients still lying on the table. "Let's try a wit-sharpening potion tonight, shall we?"

Isadora continued to glare at him, silently questioning whether his choice of concoction for the evening was a subtle jab at her abilities. She flipped through her potions book until she found the ingredients list, and reached across the table to find the scarab beetles, ginger root, and armadillo bile. She noticed as she was collecting these that Severus had requested she pull the lacewing flies from the storage room. Even she knew what potion called for those. "What could you possibly need lacewing flies for?" she asked.

Snape huffed as he reset her work station for her. "Professor Slughorn has asked me to begin preparing a Polyjuice Potion for our N.E.W.T level class. Why he's asking me to brew a whole vat of the stuff just to pour it down the drain at the end of the day is beyond me." He handed her a knife, blade first, and said, "You better start slicing that ginger root, you've still got the scarabs to deal with."

Shrugging off her outermost robes, Isadora rolled up her sleeves and set to carefully slicing the ginger root, her spine tingling as Severus hovered inches behind her, watching her every move. It was going to be a very long Friday night.

Isadora barely made it to breakfast Monday morning. After several tedious Friday nights of potions brewing with Severus, Callum and Scarlett took it upon themselves to treat Isadora to a party of their own. Somehow they had managed to smuggle mead up from the kitchens, and the three of them stayed up in one of the empty dungeons until the wee hours of Sunday morning drinking. The rest of the day involved sleeping and frequent rushes to the lavatories.

Her hair was a complete disaster, she realized as she ran past a suit of armor. At this point it didn't even matter, she didn't have any classes that would require her to have her hair out of her face anyway. She pulled the elastic out and let her dark hair drape around her shoulders as she raced into the Great Hall. Many students had already left, planning to be on time to class. Isadora plunked down in the first empty seat she found and quickly filled her plate with several slices of toast and a few lukewarm sausages. Her glass immediately filled with pumpkin juice, which she quickly drained.

An owl hooted from somewhere nearby; as she looked up she quickly recognized her family's tawny owl, Mab, soaring through an open window with a letter clenched in her beak. The bird landed next to her owner and hungrily picked at a piece of sausage as Isadora opened the envelope.

Isadora,

Your father and I miss you terribly. We do hope you plan on returning home for the Christmas holidays; your aunt and uncle are planning on visiting and they have been asking about you nonstop since you went away to school.

I had a run-in with Narcissa Black Malfoy the other day, in Nocturne Alley. What a shame you weren't a few years older, you would have been such a brilliant partner for young Lucius Malfoy. However, my meeting with Narcissa got me to thinking – you and Regulus! Oh, darling, think of it, please. Your father and I would be so proud of you, matched with such a wonderful family as the Blacks. I believe you have told me on several occasions how much you fancy the young man. Might it not be time to act on that?

Please think on it.

Love,
Mother

She wanted to scream. She tore the letter up and dropped the shredded remains into the empty goblet near her; pulling out her wand, she whispered, "Incendio," and watched as the parchment instantly caught on fire. Unfortunately she did not get much time to relish in the letter burning – the glass was soon full of more pumpkin juice, and the floating remains of her mother's correspondence.

How dare she! Isadora had admitted to fancying Regulus Black once, in third year. Never again had she spoken of the boy, who was a year younger than her and up to his eyeballs in Dark Magic. Not that the thought of dating him wasn't extremely alluring, but it seemed that every week Regulus had a new girl on his arm. She really had no interest in being the next flavor of the week.

"Hello there," a smooth voice said from behind her. Isadora froze; Regulus slid into the seat next to her, which had apparently emptied since she read her mother's letter.

"Regulus!" she squeaked, her face flushing. "I didn't see you on the train. I was looking forward to our yearly catch-up." She tried to appear calm, but could not stop thinking about how wretched her hair must have looked.

The young man smiled. He certainly didn't appear to be a year her junior. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, and he was sporting some incredibly attractive stubble this term. The top buttons of his robes were unbuttoned; Regulus Black managed to work the disheveled look incredibly well. "Yeah, well, you know how it goes. So many people to catch up with, can't find them all on the train at once," he said quietly.

"Right, of course," Isadora mumbled. Underneath the table her hands were shaking. "How was your summer, anyway?"

Regulus shrugged. "Nothing special. Fought with Sirius, as usual. Spent most of my time with Bellatrix and Rodolphus. Oh, and I met this girl, a pureblood, obviously, she's a fourth year Ravenclaw…" his voice trailed as he stared out the window, lost in thought.

Isadora raised a curious eyebrow at him as he continued to stare out into the rain hammering against the glass. "Well, she sounds…fantastic," she managed to say.

He looked back at her, his eyes a misty blue-grey. "Yeah, she's great. Anyway, I've got to run, class starts in a few minutes. Nice talking to you," he said quietly, winking at her as he headed for the doors.

Isadora stared after him. Part of her was thrilled; if Regulus was seeing someone then there was no way she could go through with her mother's plot. Another part of her was, once again, crushed to see him with another girl. It felt like a hurricane was making its rounds in her heart. She leaned over the table and gently hit her head against the wooden surface before rising, gathering her book bag, and followed the last remaining students out into the entrance hall and up to Transfiguration.