Disclaimer: The world and characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and I claim no ownership whatsoever. I only own my original characters and their names.

~HP~

The weekend could not have been slower to come for Severus. But once Saturday dawned on a cloudy morning, it was more than a relief. He was still plagued by fatigue, being sick had become part of his morning routine, and now he found himself heading for the loo after every class. But at the very least, the weekend meant that there would be no students. His classes were becoming more difficult since the retched snots seemed to be doing everything in their power to provoke his suddenly violent moods. If there's a bright side to everything, the only thing Severus could come up with was that he had his nasty reputation back.

He had intended to spend his entire Saturday in his quarters with only a good, long book for company. But having failed to turn up for breakfast again, Severus had to resign to tea time in the staffroom. Though he wanted nothing more than to be rid of his meddling colleagues' concerns, he knew that they would be doubled if no one saw him for a whole day. The last thing Severus needed was for Dumbledore to "drop in" with another little remedy of Pomona's. Really, at least Minerva had enough common sense to know that he neither needed nor desired anyone's help.

"I don't know what's gotten into Potter's head to wait this long to put a team together."

At the other end of the room, seated at a long table, Minerva was shaking her head as she incessantly stirred the tea before her. Pomona Sprout and Muggle Studies' Cassandra Wicker were seated on either side of her chair, and across the table, little Flitwick was engrossed in the Daily Prophet's tricky crossword puzzle. The Deputy Headmistress pinched the bridge of her sharp nose. "For my sake, that boy had better turn up with the best Quidditch team since the turn of the century."

"Don't we all want that, Minerva?" said Pomona. "I'm grateful that there was sufficient talent left in my own house."

"Oh Pomona, I think we've all put enough pressure on our captains," said Filius. "If you ask me, we ought to leave them alone from now on or the Quidditch Cup will end up back on Severus's shelf."

"Oh we wouldn't want that, would we?" Minerva shouted to Severus's turned back, bitterly sarcastic. Severus didn't want give her the satisfaction of firing back. He didn't want to be there anyway. Why would he want to aggravate himself by pretending to be even remotely interested in their selfish sportsmanship?

"Did Potter ever say what took him so long?" asked Cassandra, buttering a biscuit.

"He mentioned to me that he needed more time to recruit," said Rolanda Hooch, who leaned on a wall near the window. She stood there only to give herself an excuse to watch the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts currently in progress. "It's beyond me why he would think such nonsense."

"Oh, I know," Minerva raised her eyebrows. "I had First years coming up to me just to beg me to change school rules so that they might try out. And yet I heard talk that Potter thought that no one would want to go out for the team. If I ever find out who gave him that idea, I'll give them a piece of my mind." Severus rolled his eyes.

The door let out a moaning creak as Hagrid ducked his head to enter the room. "Aye, it looks like it'll be a ruddy good year for Gryffindor. Ol' Harry's puttin' 'em through the ringer."

Severus growled deep in his throat. It was bad enough that no one seemed to get off the topic of Potter, but now that Boy-wonder's biggest fan had arrived, it was all downhill from there. If Severus wasn't feeling so faint, he would have taken great pleasure in charging out of there. The only thing that could make it worse would be if Lupin suddenly showed up with his opinion.

"Cor, there must be at least half of Gryffindor house out there."

'Speak of the devil,' Severus thought. The retched werewolf had walked in, not too far behind Hagrid. Lupin almost immediately helped himself to a cup of tea and a biscuit before choosing to sit down in front of the fire. He was noticeably careful to keep his distance from the Potions master.

"Yes Remus, now let's hope there are twelve decent players in that lovely little bunch," said Minerva.

Severus balanced his teacup on his knee as his free hand dug into the arm of his chair. He watched Remus out of the corner of his tightly squinted eye as the DADA professor turned to face the others over the back of the sofa. "There's more than enough potential from what I could see. I'm impressed with the number of people interested this year. I could have sworn I saw Beckett up in the air with Thomas, Finnigan, and Robins."

"Aye, she was hangin' upside down when I passed by," said Hagrid. "I reckon she was dodgin' a bludger er somethin', but she looked like she was havin' trouble haulin' herself up again."

"Well, she got back up somehow because she was juggling the Quaffle with Robins," said Remus before taking a long swig of hot tea. "It's a bit funny actually. She never struck me as much of an athlete."

Minerva shook her head with a smirk. "Goodness, Beckett hasn't shown any interest in playing since Wood turned her away after only two test rounds. I can't imagine what has her out there today."

"I'm just taking a guess here, but I think Harry or Ron might have had a hand in that." Remus smiled. "Just a shot in the dark."

"It wouldn't surprise me in the least," said Cassandra. "She speaks very highly of them both, Potter in particular."

"Who doesn't?"

All eyes gravitated to Severus, who had suddenly interjected himself into the conversation with a snarl. He forced himself to turn around, staring toward the ladies at the table. "Do any of you have the slightest clue how ridiculous you sound? Cassandra, I can't blame you because you don't know. But the rest of you ought to know that Potter is not the foundation of that damn team."

"I'd beg to differ, Severus," Minerva objected. "Who was it who held onto the cup for seven years straight until that boy showed up?"

"Well, it must have occurred to just one of you that Potter is not some sort of god that must be worshiped for every last thing he does."

"I know that as well as you do," Remus chimed in. "But you must give him credit for something."

"As to that, I say that I'll expect the Cup to be back on my shelf by the first of May." Severus turned back to the fireplace. He suddenly came to sense that someone else had sat down on the sofa. He glanced over to find that Minerva had abandoned the table in favor of sitting by him.

"While I have you here, Severus, I have been meaning to ask you. How have you been feeling lately?"

"I'm alive, aren't I?" Severus snapped, trying to keep his voice low. "I've been getting along just fine."

"Poppycock!" Pomona's voice echoed across the room. "Severus, you looked terrible weeks ago, and you still look terrible today."

"My thoughts exactly," said Filius as he scribbled out what he thought was a three letter word for an unpleasantly disagreeable male. "Anyone in their right mind would see that."

Severus would have bit out a rather creative insult if Rolanda hadn't announced her departure, citing the Quidditch runs as her reason. Hagrid also took the opportunity to make an escape. He knew that this could turn very sour very quickly, and he would much rather be cheering on his favorite bunch of kids than get caught up in a row.

Pomona got up to stand behind the sofa. "Are you still having trouble keeping food down?" she asked Severus.

"It's been manageable," said the irritated Potions master. He vaguely wondered what gave them all the impression that butting into his private life was a privilege.

There was a tap and rustling as Filius set down his quill and folded up his newspaper. "Manageable? Severus, let's be sensible. I don't think I've met a single soul who could call worshipping the porcelain gods manageable."

"If it doesn't keep me from my work, then it's no real concern." Severus did not turn to address his overbearing colleagues. He noticed Minerva roll her eyes as she drained the last of her tea.

"I'm surprised that it doesn't affect your work," said Remus, leaning into the cushions. "Perhaps you should consider resting for a few days, get some vigor back."

"Don't tell me how to do my job, Lupin," Severus snarled.

Cassandra pushed her empty cup away and rose from the table. She cautiously walked over to where Severus sat and came around the side of his chair. "You know Severus," she started, pumping up her confidence as she tossed her thick brown hair over her shoulder. "If you're having problems with your stomach, perhaps you should try Muggle motion sickness bands. They go around your wrists and they are supposed to really help relieve nausea. My sister used them when she was pregnant; cleared that morning sickness right up!"

"Cassandra," Severus stopped her before shifting his coal-black eyes to the brunette witch. "Have you forgotten that there are potions that do the exact same thing and are just as effective? Or are you simply attempting to continue the legacy of all the doomed Muggle enthusiasts before you?"

Cassandra was crestfallen as she took a step back and away. "I was only trying to help," she said, her small voice becoming smaller.

"For your information, I don't need anyone's help, especially from timid little witches who make a living by trying to show how Muggles can upstage wizards with the smallest of things."

"Well," said Cassandra, suddenly snarling as she planted her hands on her waist. "Perhaps if you gave Muggle solutions a chance, then it wouldn't be upstaging, would it?"

Severus's face went white with rage, all power of thought forcibly flung out of the window. "Are you a witch or not?!" he growled.

"Are you with us or the Death Eaters?!"

That's when Severus shot up out of his chair. The sickly weakness had suddenly given way to a burst of energy that was only brought on by rage. But before he could even think of reaching for his wand, or even clenching a fist, Remus flew across from his place on the couch and pushed Severus back down, putting most of his unnatural strength behind him. Severus could now also feel Pomona's firm grip on his shoulders, securing him in his seat. Minerva had stood up in the commotion and Cassandra was now cowering behind her. The Muggle Studies teacher had her hand over her mouth like she was shocked by her own words. Her big brown eyes were wide with panic.

"You dare to say that to my face, you bitch!"

"Severus, I'm so sorry!" Cassandra pleaded. "I didn't mean it!"

"But you say it anyway?!" Remus and Pomona had to struggle to keep Severus in the chair. The furious wizard repeatedly tried to knock Remus aside, rather underestimating the werewolf's stamina. Remus grunted as he wrestled to restrain Severus's thin arms. But Severus's burning eyes were locked on the quivering woman behind Minerva. "How dare you, Wicker?! How dare you?! You do not know me, and you do not know what I've been through to be here now! If you think that you can come in here and say whatever you damn well please, then you better get the hell out of here before you end up in a whole new world of torment!"

"Severus, stop that this instant!" Minerva commanded. "Do us all a favor and calm down."

"Please!" Remus gasped.

"Come along, Cassie," Filius shuffled over and tugged on her sleeve. His voice betrayed his sense of urgency. "Let me walk you back to your office. I forgot to tell you about these delightful musical pieces I found for your lessons." He ushered Cassandra out of the staffroom with a steady hand, ready to defend if Snape broke free.

Once they were safely out the door, Severus gave up the fight and somewhat relaxed into the chair. With no one to protect, Pomona and Remus felt it was safe enough to let go of Severus's tense form, though not safe enough to give him space. Minerva quickly saw to that, swatting at Remus until he eventually ended up in the middle of the room. Pomona calmly excused herself from her colleagues. As she closed the door behind her, more than one of them thought they heard her mumble something about delivering a bottle of Baileys to Cassandra's quarters.

Severus breathed hard through tightly clenched teeth, leaning in on himself and cradling his head in his hands. Minerva watched him with deep concern. She had heard loose talk among the students of the Potions professor's volatile moods and his dramatic turns for the worse. But this was the first time she had seen just how easy it was to set him off. And even though such bouts of anger were nothing new when dealing with Severus Snape, this frightening frequency was unusual for him.

The elderly witch looked around at the spilled tea and broken cups around her feet. She noticed that Remus was still standing at the room's center, as though waiting for some sort of command. Minerva looked at Severus again and understood that if she wanted Severus to relax, then the other wizard would have to go. "Remus, would you mind if we had a moment alone?" she asked.

Remus nodded, not offended by the Deputy headmistress's request for privacy. Truthfully, he didn't want Severus to have an aneurism anymore than Minerva did. But he didn't need to be told that his presence was adding to the problem. "I'll return in a few minutes, there was something I forgot in my office anyway." He calmly left the room, grabbing an extra biscuit on his way out.

Minerva sat down on the couch and turned her full attention back to Severus, who now looked more pained than stressed. "Just take deep breaths, dear," she said, her gentler, more motherly voice taking over. Slowly but surely, Severus did as he was told. He leaned his body back and sank into the cushion again. A pale hand was still pressed to his forehead.

"Severus, what happened?" asked Minerva, drawing his attention. "What was that all about?"

Severus shook his head with a wrinkled brow. "Minerva, you try keeping your head when the whole damned world seems bent on obliterating any scrap of privacy you could hope for." His head fell back as the whole room seemed to lose grip on its axis. Severus let out a deep breath, hoping it would make the slow spinning stop.

"You're not well again," Minerva assumed, to which Severus responded with a gentle shake of his head. "What's the matter? What are you feeling?"

"Lightheaded, just very lightheaded," said Severus.

"Have you had anything to eat?"

"Only some toast at breakfast."

Minerva looked surprisingly relieved to have heard that. "Well, at least we know that you actually ate something this morning." She rose up again and walked back to the long table. The hem of her robes swept the floor with every quiet step. She took hold of a plate and piled on three decently sized biscuits. She then made her way back over to the fireplace and held the little plate out to Severus. "Eat those. That should hold you over for a while, at least."

Severus eyed Minerva as she spelled away the mess and once again took her place on the sofa. She in turn watched him as he gingerly nibbled on one of the dry pastries. But then she sighed. "This can't go on much longer, Severus," she said. "You can't go on with this denial."

"Why is that?" asked Severus, sneering as though to tell her he didn't need an explanation.

"Why?" Minerva raised her eyebrows. "Because there is no sense in it anymore. Even the students are beginning to whisper about your behavior. Severus, you are sick and your potions are just not helping you. I have known you for a very long time; I understand your need for privacy. But there's only so long I can just stand and watch."

"Minerva, I meant what I said before. My health problems have been an inconvenience, I cannot deny that. But as long as I can get up and teach my classes, then that's all I ask for. I don't care what I have to do to achieve that."

"Then maybe you should consider getting some help," said Minerva. "Potions might be a temporary solution, but it's not enough. If it was just a virus, you would be well over it by now. And I'm sorry Severus, but I think that you are getting worse."

She waited for Severus to finish eating the biscuits and then patted the spot beside her, bidding him to sit. To her surprise, Severus slowly moved from one seat to the next. But he stared at the floor instead of turning to face her. "You are sick so often that I'm afraid you will start to lose weight. You don't need to be any thinner, you know."

"I know that," Severus rolled his eyes.

"Not to mention that your poor health is severely affecting your mood. Your temper alone is on a hair trigger."

"I rather thought that was nothing out of the ordinary. The students especially should have accepted that long ago."

"No Severus, your anger has gone to a whole other level." Minerva pointed a finger at Severus's face. "You create conflicts out of nothing, when you have no reason at all to go attacking people. What happened with Cassandra was unacceptable."

"But you heard what she said!" Severus exclaimed.

"I did, and I will speak with her later. But don't make this about her. That argument would not have happened if you hadn't deliberately jumped down her throat when all she was trying to do was help."

"Why must everyone insist on helping me?" asked Severus. "For years, I got by with barely a concern from anyone. Why must that change?"

"Maybe they are trying to show you some respect," Minerva suggested. "But even so, why don't you swallow your pride just this once?"

Severus was quiet for quite some time. He leaned forward to rest his chin in his hands. Minerva bent over to look into his dark, hollow eyes, and she felt a knot in her chest at the sight of such miserable emptiness. "We really are worried about you, Albus and I. We had expected for you to have some trouble settling into life at Hogwarts again, but no one could have foreseen this. Surely, you must be getting tired of feeling so rotten every single day."

The exhausted man had to blink away the mist that was beginning to cloud his vision. He hated this so much. He hated how Minerva used compassion to lull him, hoping there was a confession to be drawn out. But what was she expecting to hear from him? Because it couldn't have been nearly as awful as the grotesque secret he held. Even if Severus felt safe with Minerva and Albus, safe enough to reveal to them that he had been raped, he would still keep it inside. What could they possibly do that would even remotely have a chance of helping him.

But still, he was fed up with his body being so out of his control, and no amount of pride could bury that. Though the last thing he wanted to do was admit defeat, he nodded his head. "I suppose you will say that all I've been doing is waiting for these problems to go away on their own accord."

"And I'm not the only one," said Minerva. "Albus agrees with me; you should have seen a Mediwitch days ago. Please Severus, no matter what it may seem, we do care about you. We don't just value you as a teacher, but as a friend, and Albus and I only want you to have the best. Don't make your life more difficult by being the stubborn bastard that you are."

Severus's eyes were glued to the floor as he thought, Minerva watching and waiting. "If it goes on much longer, I'll see Poppy."

"Is that a promise?" Minerva arched her eyebrow.

Severus sighed. "Yes, I promise. And you can pass that on to the headmaster."

"Don't think that I won't, although I believe you are more than capable of doing it yourself." Minerva would have gone on, but was interrupted by Remus returning with a newspaper tucked under his arm and a folded bit of parchment in his hand.

"Oh, are you still talking?" He raised his brow in surprise. "I can come back later."

"No need, Remus. We're quite through here." Minerva's voice seemed to perk up from the deeply serious tone that Severus had endured. "Actually, I was about to tell Severus that I agree with your idea. He should rest some for the rest of today, and tomorrow as well."

Remus looked like Minerva had just been referred to him as a genius. He humbly shook his head and waved the old woman off, though not without a smug smile. Severus saw this and could already feel a sharp increase in his blood pressure. At the rate he was going, Lupin might end up as the lucky bastard to "unintentionally" pop him off.

"Yes, quite right," said Remus. "It's for the best after all. If you like, Severus, I can take Miss Beckett's detentions from now on."

"No need for that, Lupin," Severus snapped as he slowly rose to his feet.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want you to overexert yourself."

"Oh, so I'm an invalid now, am I?" sneered Severus. "Luckily for me, Beckett seems to have noticed my poor health and has been respectful enough to behave herself and stay quiet afterward."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "So much for throwing her out of the castle with your bare hands."

"See, that's more the Rose Beckett I've come to know," said Minerva. "Besides, as her Head of House, I wouldn't want her to put any unneeded stress on you."

Severus snorted. "Trust me, Minerva; she's already done that and then some. But I must admit, these detentions have proven to be quite useful. You two want me to rest, then I will rest. Just be warned that Beckett will be worked harder than the house-elves during the holidays. If she is of any use to Saint Potter, I will take great delight in keeping her from him and his championship team."

Minerva and Remus exchanged looks of house-influenced frustration as Severus turned to leave. Though he was able to walk, he was a bit unsteady, his arms raised to balance himself out. He would have made a quick getaway if Minerva had not stopped him to force one more biscuit on him.

~HP~

Rest, Severus did, and quite happily at that. Feeling that he had some sort of permission to sink back into his reclusive tendencies, the weary, woozy Potions master tucked himself away in his quarters for the remainder of the day. Evidently, the message had been passed on to other teachers as no one came looking for him. For once, he was grateful that Minerva had his back. At least she had the ability to divert Cassandra from marching down and demanding an apology. An eternity could pass before that happened.

He stayed laid out on his comfortable sofa long into the evening, a copy of The Practical Potioneer in his lap. He even chose to take in his dinner in total privacy. In fact, no one in the castle would see his face again until Rose wandered down for detention, forcing Severus to pick himself up again.

Presently, the ginger-haired student was on her knees, on top of a counter at the back of the dungeon classroom while Snape watched on from his desk. He had suddenly decided that the jars on the classroom shelves needed a good dusting. Rose grunted and winced as she reached up to the high shelves, a filthy rag in hand. The braid that her hair had once been so neatly tied into was now a frazzled mess hanging from the back of her head. Her pale face and hands had gone pink with effort.

Severus had rather settled into evenings as of late. In the span of a week and a half, Rose had reverted back to what she usually was in class. She was quiet and mild-mannered. Talk had become more and more limited as each night passed, though Severus thought that it was merely because Rose thought it right to stay silent. But whatever her reason, Severus was glad that the girl was manageable, not to mention terrifically useful. His long list of classroom chores would have been a lot longer if she hadn't been there to do it all for him. It often took several hours, even days, but she always got the job done. Severus vaguely wondered what he would do once the week was out.

He was leaning over his copy of the Potions journal, more interested in an intriguing article than in his dust-and-sweat-covered student. Had Beckett been any other student, he probably would be watching her and his ingredients like a hawk. Little wonder how those shelves got so dirty in the first place. She however had proven herself trustworthy enough to handle such valuable concoctions. Severus almost enjoyed ignoring the girl, not even looking up when he heard her yelp as she lost her delicate balance. He didn't care as long as he didn't hear glass break.

"Professor Snape?"

Severus looked up, distracted by Rose's voice. The young woman had shifted her stance to face him while she repeatedly rubbed off a jar of daisy root. Her face and her voice were relaxed, which was a bit perplexing to the greasy wizard. "What is it, Beckett?" he asked.

"Have you finished grading the Blood-Replenishing Potions we made yesterday?"

"I have not. Why do you ask?"

"I just wanted to know if you've seen mine yet." Rose tilted her head to the side as her lips twitched into an uneasy smile. Snape just couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. "You just couldn't wait until Monday's class, could you?"

"I'm sorry sir, but the wait is killing me," said Rose. "Yes, I want to know how I did."

The Potions master flipped the page of his magazine, letting his black eyes fall back down. "You never fail to astound me with your audacity," he said. "And to think that some people have questioned your house placement. Hmm, perhaps sometimes it becomes more obvious with age."

Rose rolled her eyes, sighing in the back of her throat. "Pardon me, but I don't think my request is that outlandish. Please Professor, how did I do?"

Snape again looked up at Rose. It was truly quite odd to look at her, not a spark of hostility in her face and a curious glimmer in her eye. Sure, she and Severus had learned to live with each other each evening, but he never considered these detentions to be this casual. Not to mention that the blasted girl was taking time out of her own punishment to actually be a student. And yet there was something about her that Severus felt deserved to be entertained. Growing concerned for his own mental state, Severus searched his mind for the appropriate words.

"Let me ask you this, Beckett. How do you think you did?"

Rose raised her light eyebrows, surprised by Snape's question. "Well…I had hoped that I did well. I was up late the night before rereading that chapter in the book –,"

"Why does that not surprise me?"

Rose took a few seconds to calmly breathe away that sudden tension. "As I was saying, I studied until I was sure I had it right. But you know you can never be too sure."

"Unless you are your know-it-all Head Girl," Snape sneered.

"Do you seriously think that I could compare myself to her?" Rose set the jar in her hand back on the shelf and shifted her legs so that she could sit properly. "Make no mistake; I know what I'm doing. But I can't help but worry that I've made a mistake of some kind."

"Miss Beckett, I had no idea that you were a paranoid nutter," said Snape. "Then you will be relieved to know that your concerns are unwarranted."

The glimmer returned to Rose's face. "My potion was alright then?" she asked.

"I took a look at it, and it was flawless. Are you happy now?" Snape gave her a brief moment to nod her thanks. "Good, now get back to work. I want all of those cleaned off before you leave. Oh, and if you mention your potion to even one person, consider it an utter failure."

"Is that a threat?" said Rose as she cocked an eyebrow. She lifted herself back onto the tabletop and then stood up to reach the topmost shelf. "You wouldn't dare do such a thing."

"I would and I have." There wasn't much need for elaboration on Snape's part; he knew that she knew what he meant. To his surprise, Rose laughed, muffling her unusually high giggle behind pressed lips. "Please, I have nothing to merit that, and I haven't done anything worthy of senseless spite."

Snape successfully suppressed a deep growl. "Still believe Potter's every word, I see."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," Rose paused to spit on a particularly stubborn jar of newt's eyes. "But you know, it probably helps that one too many people have seen the senseless spite, unless you were about to call my friends ignorant."

Sassy, sassy, sassy, Snape thought to himself. He however had to be frank with himself. He was tired of fighting with her, even if it was for his own amusement. He was also a tad bit to weary to even care for a fight with anyone. The Potions master made the choice to silently surrender and left the young witch to her work, ignoring the sound of the occasional hawk of saliva.

Snape was enthralled in a scholarly account on the improvements being made to Anti-Splattergroit potions when a hard thud signaled Rose's dismount off the counter. She took a moment to carefully straighten her legs and then took a step toward the desk. "Those shelves are done."

"So I see," said Snape. He pointed to two more very high shelves at the side of the room and demanded that those jars be dusted too. Rose let out a huff as she looked at the clock. It was approaching nine thirty and that day had been quite exhausting to say the least. But still she took up the rag again and retrieved a step ladder from the back.

These jars were mostly empty and long disused, and therefore easy to clean off. Rose wiped away the grime and cobwebs with swift speed, almost waiting for Snape to tell her to slow down. Of course, this made her psych herself out like she was being watched. On one of her compulsive head turns, she managed to catch a glimpse at what her greasy professor was reading.

"Is that the new Practical Potioneer?"

"Yes, Miss Beckett, it is," said the Potions master, flipping the page with a snap.

Rose cleared her throat and tried to avoid his dark glare. To Snape, she looked like she was trying to rid herself of some unspoken tension as she looked back to him. "I don't mean to bug you, sir, but did you happen to see that Swedish wizard's theories on the possibility of a Memory Restorative Draught?"

"I did, but why, pray tell, are you bringing it up now?"

Rose shifted bright eyes. "I just thought that I'd ask you what you thought of it."

"What brought on this?"

"Well, Hermione and I were having a chat about the article earlier, and we're a bit at odds. She thinks it's entirely possible, but I'm not so sure. I'd like a professional's opinion."

Now this was bizarre. This was a complete turnaround from the hormonal bitch that had trapped them there. At first, Severus was unsure of how to react. On one hand, she was terribly annoying for such a late hour. But on the other, she was being respectful of his experience. Alright, so maybe she wasn't being as ridiculous as he was trying to convince himself. Perhaps this was her way of trying to be some kind of civilized witch.

"I agree with Granger; such a brew is quite possible. However, I must also agree with the article. If this potion is ever eventually created, it can only be achieved by a wizard who has incredible skill in memory magic."

"You see, that's what I thought. From what I've read, it doesn't seem that the average wizard off the street could make it. I don't even think that most healers could make it. I think Hermione realized that after thinking about it for a while." Rose paused when she looked over her shoulder at Snape's cocked eyebrow. "What?"

"You never struck me as one to prefer scholarly research over that rubbish you call women's magazines," said Snape, running his long fingers through greasy curtains.

"Hey, what I do with my time is no one's business but my own." Rose set a clean jar back on the shelf. "And besides, I read Practical Potioneer to hear what other people have to say about the art. There's only so far conversation can go among students. It's interesting to look at what the experts can do, you know, outside the books."

Snape's hollow eyes thinned out. "What you mean to say is that you read about these advanced potions and you want to try them for yourself."

"Ha, I'm good, but I'm not daft," said Rose, hanging onto the shelf to keep her balance. "I couldn't even trust myself with potions like those."

"Quite right, it would take you years to reach that level of experience. May I remind you that you will not always have Granger to lean on. Strange really, wasn't it a little over a week ago that you shoved your good marks in my face?" Snape stared at Rose as she flushed a light pink with an uneasy smile. He shook his head. "Trust me, Beckett. Self-denial is not only very annoying, but it is also a dreadful waste of breath."

"Sorry," said Rose, not really sure why she had to apologize, though that may have been due to the perplexity of that bit of advice. Was that supposed to be advice? Given her house, Rose had no idea how to respond except to give Snape the quiet that he wanted. She had shown enough bravery in attempting conversation with the visibly worn out wizard. Wisely, she allowed time to crawl in silence, decreasing the awkward tension she realized she had created.

Having read it cover to cover, Severus tossed his magazine aside in favor of watching Rose stand on her tip-toes to reach the far end of the shelf. He was satisfied with her speed, though she nearly gave him a heart attack every time her fingers slipped. But it looked like his day would soon come to an end, and he could get a head start on his Sunday off. He was also beginning to feel the familiar discomfort that was the call of nature…again. In his book, the faster Rose worked, the better.

He had briefly looked away when he heard Rose yelp as she lost her footing. He looked back to see her hanging onto the shelf by the sheer strength of her fingers, tips edging toward a large jar. He suddenly felt a rush of adrenaline when he saw that she was trying to grab hold of a jar of aconite. "Beckett, before you destroy my valuable inventory, perhaps you should consider moving the ladder."

The Gryffindor squinted to read the faint label. "Oh damn, sorry!" The Potions master watched as Rose hopped to the floor and dragged the step ladder over a bit, the wood scraping loudly across stone. Rose was up again in three quick steps.

Snape was a little wide-eyed; aconite should not be out in the classroom where anyone could get a hold of it. If he knew of the bastard that left it up there, whoever they might have been, they would not have time to know what hit them. And in addition, though the toxic plant was necessary to the older students, aconite was quite expensive, and that jar was enough to match a month's salary.

"I'll take that," he said as he got to his feet. He slowly glided over and took the jar from Rose, who had unquestioningly handed it down to him. He then retreated into his office to store it away. Behind the privacy of that door, he took the opportunity to visit the loo for the third time that night. Hopefully, Beckett wouldn't question his repeated absence. But then again, she didn't seem to be in a terribly intrusive mood. Flushing the toilet, Severus stepped out into his office. He smoothed out his robes before reentering the classroom. Rose had her back turned, washing off her rag in the sink. He calmly made his way back over to his desk chair.

"So Professor, have you been feeling any better lately?"

'Shit, piss, and corruption!' Though irritated, Severus knew that he had to choose his words carefully. He couldn't allow himself to throw all of his frustrations with his body onto this relatively innocent student. "Yes, somewhat," he sighed as he sat down.

"Did you get over that bug you had?"

"Mostly," Snape lied with a weak sneer. "Thank you for your pity. Professor McGonagall would be so proud."

Rose shook off the mock. "I'm serious sir; I do hope you're okay. It's no fun to be that ill, I know."

"I'm sure you do," said Snape. "But I'll tell you what I have told my equally nosy colleagues. I'm alright as long as I can function."

"You shouldn't be angry at them for caring for your wellbeing."

"I don't need you to act as my conscience. I have heard enough as it is."

Rose dropped the dust-stained rag into the sink basin and lightly walked over to the desks. "I can't really help myself sometimes." She lifted herself up onto a front desk. "I suppose it's the Hufflepuff in me trying to get out." Rose smirked at that, as did Snape.

"Animosity towards Hufflepuff, I see."

"Oh hardly; up until recently, I was best friends with one. But in any case, Professor, you must know that I might be right about something."

"What do you not understand?" Snape snarled. "I do not need to be harried by you or anyone else."

"I'm not trying to harass you," defended Rose. "I'm just acting on observation. You know we're not blind, right? All the students have been whispering about you for days."

"I'm surprised that you assume I wasn't aware of that," said Snape. "I'm sure that you have been providing them with a firsthand account."

"I'll be honest, yes, but not everybody. You could call me a meddling bitch if you like, but it's a bit difficult to not be suspicious. Not with the way you've been biting people's heads off."

Severus stared into the girl's face, and the arch in her thin eyebrow seemed to give away some prejudice she was obviously trying to keep locked up. His deep eyes thinned. "You know about what happened to Professor Wicker, don't you?"

Rose seemed to lose her nerve as her lips contorted and she shifted her behind further up the desk, keeping her a safe distance from him. "Well…I…not directly. I came in from the Quidditch pitch and I passed Professor Sprout talking to Professor Sinistra. I guess I kind of eavesdropped." Her eyes darted away, like that would deflect any hex that came her way. Snape just shook his head.

"If you knew the whole story, you wouldn't be on that retched woman's side."

"I don't believe I said I was on her side." Rose shook her head.

"You have had tea with her, you like her too much. In a contest between her and I, I believe anyone would say you would go with her." Snape could have just snarled at the nervous Gryffindor. Rose sighed as she looked to the ceiling. "That doesn't mean I'm loyal to her only. Merlin, it's no wonder you butt heads with people. You twist words around."

"Miss Beckett, you are lecturing me again," the Potions master scolded "I could go on about how my private matters are none of the teachers' business, but it is most definitely none of yours. What gave you the impression that it was is beyond me."

Rose propped her arms on the desk as she leaned back. Her gaze turned inward, silently contemplating if she had any right to continue. Yet it was surprising to her that she wasn't in trouble for supposedly overstepping a boundary or two. "I'm sorry Professor. You're right, I'm out of line. But it's only because I have the upmost respect for you as a wizard, and as my professor. Don't get me wrong; you are a stubborn git, and nothing that anyone can say is going to change that anytime soon. However, I wouldn't wish a long illness on my worst enemy. I think that your so-called meddling colleagues are pushing you to get help because they feel you don't deserve that." Rose took a brief moment to simply look at her incredulous professor. She felt those black holes boring into her whole being, but Snape made no move to stop her from talking. She took in a deep, solid breath of air. "And I feel the same way."

Snape's brow contorted in spite of himself. "Forgive me, but are you not the same Gryffindor brat who so daintily told me to go fuck myself? I cannot possibly believe that you would think of me so highly as to find my health grievously unfortunate."

"In light of recent events, I find that a little difficult," said Rose. "Professor, even you must admit that what you have done through the years deserves to be revered."

"Miss Beckett, you should know that I did none of it for glory, unlike some."

Rose shook her head with a peculiar tweak in her brow. "I know that, but it's still true. And war hero or not, you still know what you're doing with your brews. For me, frankly that's enough."

"You just don't give up, do you?" asked Snape, quiet enough to be mistaken for a whisper.

"Not when I know I can do someone good." Rose slid off of the desk, her hands moving to smooth out her skirt. She stepped toward the head desk and leaned against the dark wood. "Professor Snape, I won't be the least bit offended if you ignore everything I say. I just hope that just this once, you think about yourself. You are aware that you don't have to be a martyr anymore, right?"

"You believe that I would take advice from a student who is middling enough to require all night studying?" It was a weak attempt to pester, but an attempt all the same. Severus vaguely wondered why he even bothered at all. He noticed Rose fighting against the smirk tugging at her thin lips. "Don't try me," she warned. "I have my priorities like anyone else."

"Oh yes, I'm sure you would put Quidditch before your schoolwork anytime. How did that turn out, by the way?"

Rose glanced from side to side, a bit cautious. "I'm on reserve…chaser."

"Hmm, couldn't even secure an official spot." Snape ignored the utterly slighted look in Rose's wide eyes and gapping mouth.

He looked to the clock; it was twenty minutes to eleven. Where had the time gone? He told Rose to grab her discarded robe and return to Gryffindor Tower. Feeling the weight of the day, Snape followed her out of the door and locked it with a charm. He turned and bid Rose goodnight, reminding her of the next night's time. She responded with a simple nod, and started down the hall. Severus stood by the door until the sound of her footsteps faded into the dense silence.

He listened to the heels of his boots clicking on the stone as he slowly walked back to his quarters. The wards opened under his hand and once inside, he carefully closed the door behind him. Summoning a glass of water, Severus collapsed onto the sofa and kicked off his boots. In that moment, that old sofa was comfortable enough for him to consider not even going to bed. He could have slept right there, he didn't care. The only thing that was stopping him was the realization that such peculiar angles would worsen the dull aches in his neck, back, and legs.

Severus lay there in silence, watching the clock tick away. He could still hear the concerned voices of Minerva, Lupin, and Beckett. Beckett's in particular stuck rather stubbornly. In those uncomfortable moments, the tone of her voice was almost familiar, though he couldn't quite figure out how. But all the same, her words were repetitive, but they stayed, mingling with the affection of Minerva McGonagall and the wisdom of Albus Dumbledore.

He had to wonder to himself if it was still worth it to ignore them. It was obvious that willing away his health troubles was not working, and likely never would. Yet he couldn't bear the thought of being poked and prodded by Poppy Pomfrey. It was her hands who touched him after he had been raped, and even if she did not know that, Severus still felt so violated, and he never wanted to put himself through that again. It was simply all a matter of waking up one morning feeling like he was twenty again. And he hoped to the highest heavens that that day would come sooner than later. Though his mind was cluttered with unwanted thoughts, the prospect of more long days ahead, Severus went to bed that night celebrating his one good triumph that term. Rose Beckett had owned up to ultimate defeat with a simple admission of respect.

Noble…very noble indeed. Perhaps he just caught a glimpse of the girl that Cassandra described as a total sweetheart.

~HP~

So what did you guys think of our first real glimpse of Professor Wicker? I'm not going to lie, she is a really fun character to write, and I cannot wait to get deeper into the plot because that fun is going to spill over into the story.

Just in case anyone is interested, that little curse exclamation that Severus thought to himself "Sh-, piss, and corruption," that is a little nod to my best friend from school. She used to say that all the time when we were seniors in high school, and if she hadn't been such a pain in the neck and teased me all the time into writing (the Lord of the Rings fics we created were the crackiest of the crack) I might not still be doing it today. Thanks Bekah, I miss you!

Two more chapters coming in the next day or two, and them I'm taking a short break. Keep on reading, and keep on reviewing!