A/N-Hi everyone! So I fairly significantly changed the end of this chapter-the way I had originally wrote it just seemed too easy. Hope you enjoy! And I do love hearing from y'all-so please review!

A few days later, Bailey received two letters, though this time it wasn't from the Dark Lord or one of his associates. One was from her mother, the other from Professor Slughorn. She sat the letter from her mother aside to see what the new Potions master had to say, hoping it would not interrupt her brewing plans too much.

"So you got one too, I see," Blaise said as he joined her at the Slytherin table for breakfast. Draco was not too far behind, obviously disgruntled about something. Bailey didn't think that she had seen her cousin in a good mood since the term had begun, though she couldn't say much; she hadn't been exactly chipper herself.

"One what?"

"An invitation from one Horace Slughorn to join the Slug Club."

"Hmm," Bailey said, frowning. She still did not understand the man's agenda in inviting her—the daughter of the recently-cleared mass-murderer Sirius Black. She knew for a fact that there were plenty who still did not believe his innocence, people in both high and low places. She had hidden enough hate mail from her mother over the summer to realize that.

"So are you going?"

"Going where?"

"To the North Pole," Draco drawled, somewhat more viciously than his usual snide remarks. "Honestly, Black, how much of an effect have those Gryffindorks had on your intelligence levels?"

"No more than I'm sure Crabbe and Goyle must have had on yours," Bailey snarked back, before turning to Blaise. "And to answer your question, I'm not sure."

"You do realize how much a Slughorn stamp of approval can do for your career," Blaise said.

Bailey narrowed her eyes; both of them knew that neither would need any help in their careers. He had the connections, and well she… she had the talent.

"Has Hestia Carrow been invited?"

Blaise shifted in his seat. "Yes."

"And?" Bailey prompted.

"And she wants me to escort her to the party," Blaise all but growled. Bailey just barely held in her laughter at his misfortune. "So I was hoping you would allow me to escort you instead."

"You realize I have a boyfriend?"

"Yes," he said, gritting his teeth.

"And that he won't be happy with this?"

"Yes."

"So you know that you'll owe me?"

"Yes!" Blaise almost shouted. Professor Snape sent him a glare from the Head Table. Their dear Head of House was not much of a morning person.

"Then l suppose you may have the privilege of escorting me," Bailey sighed. Blaise glared at her.

"Thank you for your graciousness, your highness," he replied scathingly. Bailey bowed her head towards him before picking up the letter from her mother.

Bailey, we need to talk in person. Your Uncle Rem will be bringing me up to Hogsmeade to see his new apartment, if perhaps you'd like to join us for tea your next Hogsmeade weekend?

All my love, Mum

Real subtle, Mum, Bailey thought to herself whilst rolling her eyes before stuffing the letter into the recesses of her bag. She would have deal with her mother later. For now, she had to meet with her Potions mentor for the first time this term. She wasn't quite sure what he would be expecting from her now that he was no longer the schools Potions Master. Would she have to switch to Defense Against the Dark Arts? She hoped not, though that would be far preferable to the alternative—becoming Slughorn's apprentice. She would much rather remain under Professor Snape's tutelage.

"Professor Snape?" she called as she knocked on his office door.

"Enter," he intoned, laying aside a stack of papers he was already grading. "Ms. Black, take a seat."

Bailey sat down cautiously, somewhat nervous. She did not even dare begin with small talk, knowing how much her teacher despised it. Instead, she jumped right in. "Sir, may I ask—"

"How my new appointment as Defense Against the Dark Arts Master will be affecting your Apprenticeship?" he finished, raising an eyebrow. "In short—however you wish it. That is part of what I wished to speak of with you today. You have several paths from which to choose."

Bailey nodded, waiting for her mentor to go on. He shuffled through some more papers. She recognized them as her own personal record.

"While your marks in Defense last year were abysmal, that was largely the fault of an abysmal teacher," he said, disgust dripping from his voice. "Despite that, you still managed an O on your OWL last year, and your performance in your previous years here, you would make a suitable candidate for a Defense Apprentice. Given your… godbrother's penchant for dragging those around him into reckless and life-endangering misdeeds, I would even say such a route would be useful to you. However, you and I both know your passion and gift lie with Potions."

Bailey nodded, her mind drifting to her third year, when she had first approached Professor Snape about the Apprenticeship.

"Sir?" the timid girl said, knocking on her Head of House's open door. He was sitting at his desk, marking up essays. When he saw the young member of his House, he stood quickly, opening the door to allow her in.

"Ms. O'Bailey," he began in a stern voice, though not quite as stern as he might have used for someone outside of his House. "I have already told you, it was Longbottom's fault that the cauldron exploded. If you had not been partnered with him, then the consequences of his folly would have been far worse—"

"Tha's not why I'm 'ere, sir," she said quickly, as though she was afraid of losing her nerve. "At least no' completely."

He motioned for her to continue. She took a deep breath.

"I like Potions," she said quickly. He raised an eyebrow at her. She took another deep breath. "I mean—I really enjoy it, sir. I know tha' it's wha' I wanna do with me life—fer the rest o' me life. An' I've been doin' some readin', an' I read tha' in order to be a great Potioneer, well—yeh need a Master."

"Yes, I am well aware, Ms. O' Bailey," he said in a somewhat bored tone.

"Well, yeh see, I know it's wha' I wanna do, an' way back they used to take Apprentices when they were abou' me own age, an' well, yer the best Potions Master o' the century—"

"Ms. O'Bailey, not to be rude, but—"

"Righ', sir, righ', get on with it," she said, nodding seriously. She was shaking from nerves. "I was wonderin'—hopin'—I mean, I'd be honored if yeh would consider makin' me yer Apprentice."

Professor Snape looked stunned for a few moments. Bailey felt like sinking into the floor, worried she had made a huge mistake in asking him for this. She would have to spend the next five years at Hogwarts walking around with a paper bag on her head to avoid the shame of having made a complete and utter fool of herself…

"You understand the rigor of an Apprenticeship would far exceed what you have been learning in my classes so far?" he said, snapping herself out of her thoughts.

"Yes, sir. I really 'ope it is," she said. At his raised eyebrow she added, "sir. No offense meant, yer classes 'ave been great, but I—"

He interrupted her rambling before she could make a fool of herself.

"You also understand that I would greatly increase my expectations of you," he said. "As my Apprentice, you would be a representative of myself in the world. You would need to learn how to behave with even more decorum and grace than you currently possess—even more so than your friends possess."

"Yes, sir," she said, straightening her posture and trying her best to mask her accent with a more posh sounding one. There was a flicker of amusement in her teacher's eyes as he studied her.

"Even so, I do not think that you are ready for an Apprenticeship," he said.

She felt as though someone had just stabbed her in the gut, and all her dreams were bleeding out around her. She opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a finger.

"Yet."

"You, of course, could continue your Potions Apprenticeship with the new resident Potions Master, Professor Slughorn," he continued, shuffling around in the papers on his desk. "I had presumed that that would be the case, so I have already contacted the Guild and have the necessary paperwork to switch you over to his mentorship—"

"Sir, if I may," she said, cutting him off. "Could I continue studying Potions under you?"

He seemed surprised for a few moments, just as he had been all those years ago. She felt her heart pounding, ready to explode like that innocent little third year.

"I suppose that would be… suitable," he said slowly. "If you are sure?"

"Yes, I am sure, sir."

"Well, then, now that that is settled," he said, clearing his throat. "I have seen you've already been making use of your lab this term?"

Bailey's heartbeat quickened for a second time that day, though for a far worse reason. Snape didn't know, did he? She may have dug her own grave remaining his Apprentice. He was quick, he was a spy; if anyone could figure out her secret then it was Severus Snape.

"Yes, sir," she said. "Mostly for a few pain potions… Draco did not have the best of summers. I used me own ingredients though"

She thought she saw the slightest glimmer of sympathy in Professor Snape's eyes as he nodded, but she couldn't be sure; his sympathy wasn't completely out of the range of possibility—Draco was his godson. There was enough surety that she was able to relax fractionally.

"That was not necessary. Especially in the aid of another student, you know that you need not dip into your own stores. And you should not have, given your current financial situation," he said, studying her as though she was a specimen in a jar.

She shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

"And how comes your Wolfsbane research?"

"Slowly."

"And yet you still do not wish to choose something less ambitious?"

"O' course not," she scoffed.

Snape smirked proudly, the expression making him seem more human. "And the wolf? Is he still acquiescent to your experiments?"

"Not as much this summer. He has been… away," she said, giving him a look rather than saying out loud where Remus had been this summer. All of the Order knew that Remus had been trying (and failing) to earn the allegiance of the werewolves. Bailey found the fact that Remus, of all people, had gone to do that especially ineffective, given that Dumbledore had not managed to allow him to keep his job any more than any other werewolf. With such an example of loyalty, what sane werewolf would want to work for Dumbledore?

"Ah," Snape said, raising an eyebrow.

He studied Bailey carefully, making her feel as though she were a specimen in one of his jars. After a few minutes, she began to feel something inside of her head… a presence of some sort. Without a second thought, she completely shut down all feelings, thoughts, memories. Snape grunted as though in pain, then looked at her in no small amount of shock.

"Master?" she said, trying to lock down her anger. He didn't say anything. "If you don't think I know what Legilimency is, you are mistaken," she said coldly even as she fought off tears.

"Miss Black—"

"I have Prefect duties," she said, trying to reign in her anger, striding towards the door. Professor Snape seemed to regain some presence of mind, for before she reached the exit, the door had slammed shut and locked itself.

"Miss Black, sit." She did not turn around, knowing that her face would give her away. "Now."

She grudgingly took a seat.

"You have no right to go through my mind, Master," she said, not looking him in the eye. She would not give him that opportunity.

"Despite what you may believe, as your Master I have every right to do what I just did, especially when you as my apprentice have been exhibiting… worrisome behavior. Your mother has written me in concern, as have your Housemates. Now, is there anything you see fit to share?" he said sharply.

"No, Master," she said through gritted teeth.

"Do not lie to me."

"There is nothing I see fit to share with you, Master," she growled in a far more disrespectful tone than she had ever dared with him. "You forget whose daughter I am; I know your past actions well enough to know that I am deserving of far less than you." Even as she said the words, she was trying to pull them back into her mouth.

Professor Snape looked murderous. She bowed her head in deference to him.

"What is wrong with you?" he snarled. "Do you truly wish to remain my Apprentice?"

"Please, sir, forgive me," she said, thinking up another version of the truth that would please him. "I—I was making Dreamless Sleep. For myself. I know the risks—but I can't get sleep without it. I have nightmares, every night," she said in a low voice. "I jus' don' want to keep seein' it."

She risked a glance at her Potions Master, who had his lips pursed. She had been into his private stores and labs often enough to recognize that he had the same problem. Finally, he gave a long-suffering sigh.

"I will have to put restrictions in place on your brewing, you realize," he said tiredly. She tensed, but nodded. He sighed again before standing up and moving to in front of his desk until he was standing right in front of her. He placed a hand on her shoulder; she flinched.

"Foolish girl," he murmured, shaking his head. "Don't you realize you could get yourself killed?"

"Please, Master," she croaked in a hoarse voice. "Don' tell me mum. It'll jus' worry her."

He stared at her for a long moment before nodding. Somehow, she knew then that he wasn't speaking of potions. He knew. He knew what she had done. But, unlike Dumbledore, Severus Snape was a man of his word. He would keep his promise, and do what he could to help her. She had never been more thankful for that day when he offered her his Apprenticeship. She could not have found a better Master.