A/N: Okay so my excuse for not writing for so long is that A. I've been in school and apparently studying to become a doctor is not as easy as Grey's Anatomy makes it look? So we can blame that part on the creation of calculus and chemistry. B. I haven't felt like writing. I want to finish this fic so I can move on to other things but for me to do that it has to be good. So I needed time where I wouldn't feel guilty for not doing something else. Anyway, enjoy! I've missed this fic a lot. No copyright infringement intended.

12 November 1994

The first dueling tournament practice was today. Nearly a hundred students, all seventh years and a few older sixth years, were packed into the Great Hall to practice the art of wizard dueling. If you think this sounds dangerous, you'd be correct. I spent the majority of my time, not instructing but keeping poorly aimed spells from going too far astray. Breton, or as I like to call her, Miss Unpunctual, was late. We were short a moderator, which forced Moody to head over and work with the Beauxbatons' lot and Crane, who really has no clue what he's doing, to work with me.

While circling the students together, I fished out two pieces of information from him. 1. Breton practically lives in President D'Arcy's pocket, and 2. She comes from a political family that has had business in Britain for centuries. This begs the question, what sort of business? I didn't ask; I wanted to appear distinctly disinterested.

As her excuse for her lateness, Breton told me there was an information leak at the ministry. She walked in dramatically, breathing heavily through her nose and with her hair escaping its restraints. She wore pure white robes today, though the hem was a little soiled by her walk outdoors. The students, whom had all been practicing, stopped and turned to see who had forcefully thrown open the wooden doors of the Great Hall. I ventured towards her from the back, meeting her near the far end of the dueling stage.

"I hope I'm not too late," she practically panted as she drew near, devoid of her usual poise.

I noticed the smallest little clench of her fist as she stood in front of me. She was definitely frazzled, though that did nothing to soothe my annoyance. There were far too many students for the five – now six with the presence of Breton – moderators to efficiently handle.

"Your civility is appreciable, Breton, but it is half past seven."

Ignoring everything I had just said she asked, "Is the Evening Prophet out yet?" and took off her shimmery cloak, draping it over a chair.

"What did you snap at Skeeter this time, Breton?" I walked down to the Hogwarts students, who, under Crane's tutelage were practicing different hexes. I made a mental note to find a copy as soon as possible.

She took that deliberately polite, gentle tone with me; the same one she used for Mr. Crouch and Moody. "Professor Snape, aside from the obvious, what are –"

I cut her off. I was sick of bullshit, it was time for answers. "So," I demanded, "what was it?"

She frowned. "A missing file. A file on Potter."

"Potter?" I repeated in confusion.

"The Potter family."

"What were you doing looking for the Potters's file?"

She lowered her voice and caught me by the arm of my robes, stopping me from proceeding through the rows of people and forcing me to turn and face her. "It's not what you think-"

"What do I think?" I hate it when people assume to know how I feel.

But she hit the nail right on the head. "You don't trust me. But why should you? I don't take it personally. It simply confirms you're a hard-assed bastard."

Her words drowned out the noise of the whizzing spells and the cries of the students. Her reply caught me off-guard. Was I that obvious? I admit, I am a bit of a bastard… But I'm a bastard to everyone. It wasn't as though I act bastardly to her specifically.

"If you want me to be honest, I was looking him up because Lucius left me alone for a moment in the file room and I seized the opportunity to see what your deal was with them. The Potters."

I felt myself pale. I was tempted to tell her that even if she had found the file she wouldn't find what she was looking for. But instead I said, "What?" because I wanted her to feed me more information.

"The Potters have always been a Pureblood family of note. They go back to the Peverels, so I assumed—"

"Can we talk about this later?"

I didn't like the smile she gave me as she slinked away. I also hated the look on her face when the Prophet promptly arrived at dinner with the headline "Important Ministry Secret File Missing; News Leaked by French Ambassador." She watched me unfold the paper to the article with hardened eyes. Maybe she thought she could start intimidating me, but it never worked before. Not sure why Miss Logical would think I'd suddenly cower submissively. I hope she's at least embarrassed she couldn't keep her big mouth shut. She's a fucking nosebleed, I'm telling you.

S.S.