Chapter 14
September 1996
Her first class, interestingly, was with the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins.
Why on earth those two houses were always paired up for classes, Civia wasn't sure, but she didn't like it.
Timidly, the small students came into the room, seating themselves, speaking in soft whispers, clearly nervous and frightened for their first class in their magical education. They seemed confused by the layout of the desks and chairs, all arranged in a circle in the large classroom around a single, large cauldron in the very center of the room.
When the bell rang, she set her quill down and rolled up the piece of parchment she'd been writing on. With the students silently watching her, she went to the window and gave the scroll to a school owl lingering outside, and turned her attention to the attentive class.
All were sitting ramrod straight in their seats, books out, as well as quills and parchment. Anxiety and unease was upon every face.
She chuckled to herself but spoke reassuringly as she smiled kindly to them. "If any of you have heard rumors of a horribly despicable Potions professor, you needn't be nervous. That was Professor Snape's reputation." They breathed a sigh of relief, the tension draining slightly from their stiff postures.
"I am Professor Potter," she introduced herself, "And, hopefully, I will be better than my predecessor at this. I'm new to Hogwarts as well," she said, trying to offer a bit of comfort, then amended, "at least, as a teacher. This is my first year, so I suppose I'm a bit like you. I need to get used to it and everyone.
"Now, if any of you are of wizarding parents, you know what potions are. You've seen them, I'm sure, and probably have taken a couple. But if you are muggleborn, don't worry," she soothed, "Think of Potions as a cooking class: you prepare ingredients, put them together, and it is drunk by another, if it is well made. Though the results in here will certainly be more magical than in a kitchen.
"But unlike typical food, Potions are something incredibly unique. You do not need to be magically talented—or magical at all—as long as your ingredients have already been properly collected. You don't need a wand…for now at least. Should you advance to the NEWT level, you may.
"Every potion is unique. Each has different ingredients or a different brewing process. Each has unique effects. Each has different appearances, textures, scents, and tastes.
"For our first potions class, we will be making a very simple potion to cure boils and other stubborn forms of acne.
"Now, if you turn to page twenty in your textbook, who would like to read the first step?"
An eager pink-faced girl raised her hand. "What's your name?" Civia asked.
"Angela Green," she replied enthusiastically.
"Alright, Angela, go ahead."
"One – Heat cauldron until base of Agrippa turns red."
Civia nodded, "Would you care to demonstrate, here?" She motioned to the cauldron in the center of the room, as she sat on the edge of her desk, which was included in the circle of desks. The little blond-brown haired girl bounced from her seat to the cauldron, set it up and waited…
"Very good. Two points for your house."
At the third step, a boy—Mark Hatcher—poured the appropriate amount of flobberworm mucus in, until the potion was pink, and so on and so forth, until a Slytherin girl added porcupine quills.
"Do any of you know why you must take the cauldron off the fire before you add the quills?" the Potions Mistress asked.
"If you don't, you'll get boils all over when it melts the cauldron!" exclaimed a girl.
"Correct. Five points for your house."
When the finished the potion, Civia filled a small vial of it, corked it, and held it up to inspect it.
"Well done, class," she said, causing many to beam with pride. "Now, next class, you'll be brewing this potion in pairs. Having done it already, it should be easy.
"I hate to say this, but it is essential. You won't be getting much homework for a while, though, if you will open your textbook to page thirteen, you will see a small list of different categories of potions: brew, concoction, draught, elixir, philter, poison, and tincture. I want all of you to flip through the text and find an example of each of these and explain why it is so. For example…the Draught of Living Death. What makes it specifically a draught?
"This will be due next class, but should be fun and easy enough."
They all looked fairly eager at the easy assignment.
"Now, gather your belongings if you haven't because the bell should ring in…three…two—" She was cut off by the bell.
"Have a good day, everyone!" she called as they filed out, chattering animatedly about the lesson.
The next first year class—Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws—went just as well.
February 1999
Severus was not, by nature, a possessive man.
So he was a little covetous about his possessions, guarded about his living space, and private about his personal life.
He was, however, a protective man.
He'd been protective of his battered mother until her death. He'd been extremely protective of Lily, who had been his only friend as a boy—from trying to protect her from the attention of James bloody Potter, to trying to protect her from the Dark Lord. He'd even been protective of thrice-damned Harry Potter during the boy's years at Hogwarts and the war.
He had been protective of Civia since day one of their partnership, ever since learning of her position as a spy.
(The Potter family, he'd long ago realized, would be the death of him.)
As the years had passed and they had grown closer, he only became more protective of her. She was the closest friend he had—closer than Lily, closer than Minerva, closer than Albus, and easily closer than the Malfoys, even now. (Especially now.)
During the war, this protective nature was helpful in ways. As Civia's handler, it helped, certainly. Now that the war was over, it was rather distracting at times.
He worried for her often. Worried that she'd be harmed by a wayward spell in the Dueling Club. Worried that she'd be hurt in a potions accident in one of her classes. Worried that one day her nightmares and anxiety attacks would happen when he couldn't help her anymore.
Oh yes, Severus Snape worried.
He had not, however, worried about her acting as chaperone for the students' Hogsmeade visit.
He should have.
If he'd known, he would have thrown the duel and lost purposefully. He'd have locked her in their rooms to keep her safe.
As it was, he had not known.
He was writing an article for Ars Alchemica when Minerva came pounding on the door to their sitting room.
"What is it, you infernal woman? What do you—" he demanded but stilled and fell silent when he saw the look on her pale face. "What is it? What happened?"
"Civia was attacked in Hogsmeade. Her nephew and his friends found her in the alley near the Three Broomsticks—"
"Where is she?" the Defense professor demanded immediately.
"They took her to St. Mungo's."
When Civia woke, it was to an aching body. Everything hurt, especially her head and pelvic area.
Memories came flooding in quickly, and she hissed at the recollection of the attack.
"Civia?"
She opened her eyes to find a familiar scene: Severus, sitting at her bedside, just as he had done so often while she recovered after the Battle of Hogwarts.
"Severus."
"Do you remember what happened?"
Slowly, she nodded, resisting the urge to tremble. "I remember."
"The Healers have questions—and the Aurors, too."
"Oh, Merlin—please tell me no one told Harry."
Severus frowned. "I was told he was among the group that found you."
"Fuck," she cursed. "Alright. Go get the Healers, please."
After the Healers came the Aurors. Among them, Harry and Ronald, who had apparently used all their influence and sway in the department to be put on the case.
She protested their presence. "You don't want to hear this, Harry," she told him sternly. "Though I really do appreciate your concern—please, don't make me do this."
"Civia, you know if I'm not here, then the others will just tell me what you said later," he tried to reason with her.
Did the boy not understand it was an attempt to retain some dignity?
Apparently not.
"Fine," she whispered, reaching for Severus' hand to steady herself emotionally.
"I was walking to the Three Broomsticks when I saw him. I thought it was just a couple of troublemaking students, so I went to chastise them—but found him instead."
"Who was it, Civia?" Severus asked, deathly pale as he held her hand, waiting for the confirmation of his assumption.
"He—he wanted information. He threatened Severus at first, thinking that bluff would scare me. It didn't.
"He took my wand—and he just snapped it over his knee like it was a mere twig, tossing it aside. After that, he, he pinned me to the wall by some spell."
"And then, Miss Potter?" the lead Auror prompted, causing Severus to send him a withering look for his impatience.
She shuddered, actually shuddered. "Do I have to say it? He—he raped me. When he was done, he fixed his clothes and used the Cruciatus curse on me. I'd say at least half an hour, going by my previous experience. I was Silenced the whole time.
"I blacked out, bleeding and practically naked in the snow. That's all I remember."
"Who. Was. It."
"You know, Severus," she whispered. "It was him."
Without another word, he stood and swept from the wing.
"Aunt Civia," Harry said, grabbing her hand. "Who was it? You have to tell us. Please."
"…Lucius. Lucius Malfoy."