authors note:I am sooooo soooooo sooooo sorry guys! I know I complain about authors who leave their stories half done, and here I've left y'all hanging on a bad chapter! Soooo sorry guys!
chapter 8:Beginings
She missed the dark. It was never dark anymore, since the flames had engulfed her during the spell. She wasn't ever cold, but she wasn't hot either. They had shrunk down after the first of Snape's potions, and today was dose two. She couldn't wait for the dark.
"Are you sure we can't wait till the sun goes down?" Manny whined walking up the stairs of Snape Manor, following Professor Snape.
"Yes, I worry how much damage is being down with the flames still there. The sooner their gone, the sooner I can examine you." He smiled back at her. Manny had been…extraordinary. That's the only way he could put it. He did not spend much time at the Manor, and the elves had started to slide. She had them working like well oiled muggle tractors, by the second day. She woke up early, got the house elves their chores, picked something out for him to wear, and had the paper unfolded to the weather reports (his favorite section). He felt like a king, but he had also started to worry about Manny. She nearly fainted at her grandfathers' super, and she had growled at the elves when they got home. Home? She didn't live here, but he felt like it was their home.
Once they were in the potions lab in the attic, Snape began mixing ingredients, and Manny sat on a stool waiting for something to do.
She didn't have to wait long as a house elf stumbled in drunk and stoned.
"Masser, Mizas, I would like to tell you to go fuck a donkey, I Quit!" the little thing then proceeded to laugh like a hyena.
Manny growled at the arrogant creature, and leapt to her feet. Grabbing the pipe out its little hand, she picked him up, strode to the window, opened it, and with a, "Sleep your drunken ass outside you ungrateful wretch!" threw him four stories down into a rosebush.
"He didn't land in the roses did he? It was my great something grandmothers."
"No! No! Maybe. Yea. He did." Manny said sheepishly.
"Its fixable. Good shot by the way." Smiling he went back to potion.
20 minutes later he handed her a vial which she downed with a nasty face. In an instant the flames disappeared, and Manny fainted out the window.
Manny loved Snape Manor. In the heart of London's oldest and poshest houses, it was like a tiny island of magic in an ocean of muggles. She also loved being the self proclaimed women of the house. Seeing as she was here anyways, she might as well keep the house up, like a proper women. Her philosophy: if you can't take care of a man, hold down a decent job, and have fun with your friends you don't deserve to call yourself a women. Muggles back home tried to call her sexiest, but that was only the hippie women. Men thought if all women thought like her, the world would be a much better place. And Manny agreed.
She looked around at the night, and made out two kids riding brooms low along the ground. A third toddled around with a pacifier trying to catch fireflies. They all had black hair, but their skin was olive colored. A hand reached around her shoulders and a kiss was placed on her forehead. Just as she turned to see who it was, Snape's voice cut through the dream.
His face swam into her vision and her body felt like it had been broken. Badly.
Snape moved with a determination he hadn't felt in years. Manny had fallen four stories into his who the hell cares rosebush. Her left arm was broken and thorns protruded from her skin every where. The flames, thankfully were gone, and the only burn she had was on her right arm, a large red dragon clawing into her skin, the tail wrapping around her wrist while the head shot flames up her shoulder. He set the arm and removed the thorns with a wave of his wand, and clotted the bleeding holes with another. He picked her up and carried her to her room, closing the blinds and extinguishing all the candles but two, one by the door, and one he could read from by her bed.
She looked beautiful, even with cuts all over her face and neck. But he would never be more than her teacher, and he knew that. In his private thoughts though, he could imagine.
