Author's note – Hola! No, I did not move to Spain, although it's a wonderful country and I had a great vacation. I did move, though, and that has taken up most of my time. Thanks to everyone for their patience and for putting this story on alert. I thought posting would be a great diversion from unpacking all those pesky boxes I didn't unpack from our last move, so here's the next chapter. Hope it makes sense. It's been a while since I had time to write!

Fred and George Weasley hoisted Rose on their shoulders as an exuberant cheer arose from the Gryffindor table. Oliver Wood tried to make a speech, but it was clear to Severus that no one paid him the least bit of attention. The Potions professor smiled into his coffee cup. His ward sported an ear to ear grin at the news that she had been reinstated as Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Rose's Quidditch status wasn't the only topic of conversation that morning. The Great Hall buzzed with rumor and speculation. The students had returned from Easter holidays with the knowledge that the Ministry had wrongly imprisoned Sirius Black in Azkaban for over a decade. Pages of articles had already been published in the Daily Prophet questioning the morality, not to mention the legality, of convicting a suspect without the benefit of a trial.

Of course, Black had come out of the whole mess looking like some tragic hero. Rita Skeeter had done a three page spread on his disastrous quest for vengeance against the childhood friend who had betrayed James Potter. Her description of the time he had spent in Azkaban had brought many a woman to tears, Molly Weasley included.

Frankly, much of the article had made Severus nauseous, but Black had managed to keep Rose's personal life private. While he didn't appreciate the public reminder that the Marauder was her godfather, he had to credit Black for answering with a simple "I can't say" every time the journalist asked about the Potter's surviving child. Midway through the interview, Skeeter finally gave up asking. While the former spy knew that wouldn't be the end of it, he was glad for the respite. Neither he nor Rose was ready for such public scrutiny.

Then, there was the question of Peter Pettigrew. Since his status as an unregistered Animagus had been revealed, parents were in an uproar about Hogwarts security like never before. Luckily for Rose, the coward had been sighted in both London and Salisbury. The Headmaster had finally been able to convince the Ministry to return the dementors to Azkaban after pointing out that they hadn't been much of a deterrent in the first place.

Even the Head Table was awash in gossip. Remus Lupin animatedly discussed the prospect of Black's release to anyone who would listen. Gulping down the remainder of his coffee, Snape intended to retreat to the dungeons before the wolf could gather his courage for a private chat. The last thing he wanted to do before classes was listen to his colleague's justifications for keeping Black's secret, and by default, Pettigrew's. Before he could quietly escape to his classroom, however, Minerva tapped him gently on the shoulder.

"It's so good to see her smiling again. Was Healer Wellby able to tell you why she might have reacted so drastically to the Cruciatus Curse?"

Turning towards his confidant, he considered his answer before replying. He and Rose had spent Easter weekend with the Weasley clan. It had meant enduring Molly's mothering, but after Pettigrew's attack, they had both needed a change of scenery. As soon as he stepped foot into the Burrow, though, Molly had insisted he see a healer. Snape had seized the opportunity, calling upon the healer who had tended to him at St. Mungo's and inviting him to make a house call.

It had only taken a few moments of Legilemency to determine that Mark Wellby was both discreet and trustworthy. After submitting to his own examination, Severus had asked the talented young healer to examine Rose. The results had not been any worse than he expected, but that didn't mean they were to his liking.

"Healer Wellby believes the curse may have temporarily affected the memory charm Albus placed upon her. He suggested that her reaction was delayed shock to the original trauma. Since it resolved itself, he advised me to let sleeping hellhounds lie."

McGonagall watched her Gryffindors continue to celebrate the return of their star Seeker, her lips compressed into a tight, thin line. Finally, she asked the one question he had hoped not to have to answer.

"What if it happens again?"

Involuntarily, he clenched his fist. "It won't."

"But if it does?"

"It won't," he repeated in a voice even the Deputy Headmistress didn't dare question. Prudently, she changed the subject.

"Did Kingsley give you any trouble?"

"For harboring a wizard wrongly convicted of a crime? Hardly. He was more interested in hearing how I discovered Pettigrew had been posing as the Weasley's pet."

"Something you didn't see fit to share with the rest of us," she replied with an indignant sniff.

He bristled at the accusation. A little over a week ago, he had been the victim of ridicule for insisting that a rat Animagus had the run of Hogwarts. It was so easy for everyone to forget that little detail except him.

"Would you have believed me, Minerva?"

The older woman flushed. "You should have informed us," she insisted without directly answering the question. She didn't need to; they both knew the truth. After a few minutes, she offered a genuine apology for her lack of faith, which he awkwardly accepted. They were both relieved when he made his excuses and left the table. Disgruntled, he brooded all the way to his classroom.

Ten minutes before the beginning of his Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first years' class, Rose barreled into the Potions lab, exuberant and out of breath.

"Did you hear, Professor? I'm back on the team! I can play Seeker for the last two games! Isn't it brilliant?"

His mood improved as soon as she walked through the door. Seeing her happy put everything in perspective.

"I believe only someone as self-absorbed as Professor Binns could have missed the news, Miss Potter. The spectacle was quite grandiose, even by Gryffindor standards."

Her eyes found the ground as she mistook his dry humor for irritation. "Yeah, well, I thought you might have missed it. I looked for you in the Great Hall and you weren't there. I'll just go to Herbology, then."

Sensing her upset, he quickly softened his tone. "I left early to prepare for class, Rose, but I did see how much the announcement pleased the rest of your House. Your skills on and off the Quidditch pitch makes me very proud."

"They do? But, you don't even like Quidditch."

"My like or dislike of Quidditch is irrelevant. If I didn't think it would be a waste of a talented mind, I would encourage you to play professionally."

Her mouth gaped open. "You would? You really think I'm that good, Professor?"

Her green eyes were bright with excitement, and he smiled at her humble disbelief. Draco Malfoy would have taken the compliment as his due, but Rose could scarcely comprehend that he had noticed her playing, never mind her talent. His smile dimmed as he considered that fact. How long had she been judged by the scar on her forehead rather than her true self?

"Rose, you have the potential to succeed in any endeavor you might wish to pursue. If you continue to apply yourself, you will be a very formidable witch."

When her lips began to tremble, he feared she had somehow misunderstood him. Perhaps he should have been more lavish with his praise. Pulling her into a hug, he felt her entire body shake.

"I did not mean to imply that you are currently lacking in any manner, Rose. You have faced more challenges in your three years at Hogwarts than many witches encounter in a lifetime. Your mastery of the Patronus Charm at such a young age is a testament to your determination and skill. I wouldn't be surprised if the Auror Department didn't try to recruit you when they hear of it. You are a very exceptional young lady."

She squeezed him so tightly he thought his ribs might crack. Just as he heard a cacophony of voices in the hallway, she pulled back, putting the desk between them. Her eyes were dry, but she swallowed thickly several times before she found her voice.

"Sorry, Professor," she whispered as the first years began to take their seats. "It's just, I never really thought about growing up before. I guess in the back of my mind, I thought I'd be . . . . Well, it's nice to know you think differently."

Before he could react, she ran out of his classroom. He longed to race after her, to make promises they both knew he couldn't keep, but his students were waiting expectantly in their desks. Torn, he took out the Marauders' Map. He watched Rose safely make her way to the Herbology greenhouse, and then he reluctantly put it away.

Well used to focusing on one task while thinking of another, he began the day's lesson.

"Today, we will be discussing the use of toads in potions. Can anyone tell me which parts of a toad are used in Wartcap powder? . . . .

Severus couldn't wait for the end of his afternoon class. As his students turned in their vials, Rose occupied his thoughts. Surreptitiously, he checked the map. She was still in Filius' classroom. He hoped to catch her before she returned to her Common Room.

Before the last student trailed out, however, Lupin barged in. He'd never seen the wolf so excited.

"Sirius has been exonerated by the Wizengamot."

Shoving several rolls of parchment into his satchel, Severus stared balefully at the unwelcome delay.

"Forgive me for not jumping for joy, but I have better things to do with my time."

He tried to walk past the tatty wizard, but Lupin forgot himself in his exhilaration and placed a hand on Snape's arm. The Potions Master jerked back as if he'd been burned.

"Don't touch me again."

His reactions seemed to stun the werewolf.

"I thought you'd wish to know. Sirius told me that you'd invited him to spend time with Rose. I thought you'd finally put the past behind you."

He couldn't believe the arrogance of the Marauder. Angrily, he pounded the wall. "And, how do you propose I do that? Move to Majorca? In case you haven't noticed, my life is steeped in the past."

Lupin held up his hand in a placating gesture. "No one is questioning your dedication to Rose, Severus. I had merely hoped that after working so closely with Sirius over the last few months, you would have found it within yourself to forgive him for his childish pranks."

"Childish pranks? The same childish pranks that almost turned you into a murderer? Almost killed me?"

"Severus, please."

"Please what?" he thundered, truly enraged. "Please forget how he tormented me solely on the basis of my House affiliation? Forget how he shunned his own brother for the same grievance? Black and I share a common enemy. That does not mean we have to be friends. His maturity level rivals that of a childish chimp, and I for one, have no intention of being made into a monkey by the likes of him. Now, if you will excuse me, I have somewhere else to be."

Grasping his satchel in his good hand, he limped out of the room, acutely aware that he was retreating from his own classroom. Lupin caught up with him as he mounted the stairs. For a moment, Snape thought he was going to pass without speaking, but he wasn't so lucky. His fellow professor stopped him on the top stair, his face suffused with unexpected sympathy. The battle-scarred wizard hated that expression most of all.

"I am sorry, Severus."

His glare was withering. "That is abundantly clear." Curtly taking his leave, he stalked towards the Charms classroom.

"Professor? Are you looking for me?"

Glancing upwards, he scowled as a matter of course. He'd been so wrapped up in the past that he hadn't noticed Rose approaching in the hallway. She was flanked by Granger and Weasley, who stared at him as if he had sprouted horns. Belatedly, he schooled his expression into one of careful neutrality.

"I had wished to continue our conversation from this morning. However, I can see that you are otherwise occupied. Perhaps you could meet me in my classroom after dinner tonight."

Looking back and forth between Ron and Hermione, Rose played with her charm bracelet, clearly unsure of how to answer. Miss Granger nudged her none too subtly in the arm, and she finally replied with false cheer.

"Now would be great, Professor. I'm free until dinner."

He heard Weasley cough something that sounded suspiciously like "Quidditch" and cursed himself for a fool. Of course the Gryffindors had a practice scheduled now that their star Seeker was cleared to play. Stumbling over his words, he quickly backtracked.

"Actually, I just remembered that I have to see the Headmaster about . . . ."

His mind blanked. He couldn't think of a single reason why he would wish to see the Headmaster. He'd been avoiding Albus since their brief conversation on Good Friday. No matter how conciliatory the powerful wizard had been, Snape couldn't get the thought out of his head that Dumbledore was biding his time for the proper moment to say, 'I told you so'.

"I imagine you'd have to speak to the Headmaster about the new security measures for the castle, don't you, sir? I mean, there must be loads of new procedures now that the Ministry knows Pettigrew and Black are unregistered Animagus."

He regarded Miss Granger with newfound respect. The bushy-haired know-it-all was mature beyond her years. She, too, would make a very formidable witch.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. That is precisely the reason why I shouldn't tarry. Rose, I shall see you this evening, unless you would prefer to meet with me tomorrow."

She continued to play with her bracelet, and her too bright smile quickly turned into a worried frown. "Tonight's okay, I guess. I just don't think we need . . . I mean, it's not like . . . ."

Astonishingly, it was Mr. Weasley who attempted to smooth over the suddenly awkward pause.

"For Merlin's sake, Rose, Snape's not going to bite your head off! He's probably worried about you. Hermione already explained how most adults panic when they hear a kid talk about dying. There's such a thing as being too honest with your parents, you know."

He was dumbfounded by Ronald Weasley's endorsement. His shock must have shown on his face because the young man grinned widely, cheekily commenting on his reaction.

"You might try to hide it, but I reckon Mum has the right of it, Professor. She told me this weekend that you're the best thing that ever happened to Rose. Said she needed a proper parent to give her rules and tell her she's worth something. Don't know about the rules bit, but Rose does tend to forget she's got people who care about her. If you can manage to convince her, then I guess you aren't such a greasy git after all."

"Ron!" Hermione hissed as Snape's ward turned beet red and ducked her head in embarrassment.

Severus clamped his jaw shut, counting to one thousand as he attempted to foment the proper response. In the end, he ignored Ronald Weasley's speech altogether. It was either that, or give the boy detention until he came of age. Frankly, he didn't think he could survive that much exposure to the youngest Weasley son.

"Be that as it may, I shall see you after dinner, Rose. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some business to take care of."

He swept down the hall as quickly as he could, his black robes billowing behind him. He couldn't refute the fact that Rose placed little value on her life. Time and again, she placed herself in danger to save others with no regard for her safety. Molly Weasley was correct in thinking that the child needed to be reminded of her own worth. In that, he feared he would be fighting an uphill battle as he attempted to overcome years of conditioning by the Dursleys.

Grading essays, Severus forgot all about dinner. When Rose knocked on the door to his classroom that evening, he abruptly realized that he had missed it completely. It was a good excuse to invite her to his quarters. He craved caffeine and privacy. Rose agreed with obvious reluctance, but he chose to ignore her misgivings. He rightly guessed that the young witch feared a lecture after her earlier candor.

Sitting down at the tiny kitchen table, her eyes swept the living area of his apartment. Nothing had changed since her last visit to his quarters, so he took her interest to be nothing more than an excuse to remain silent. After her earlier openness, he wasn't surprised.

"Tea, Rose?"

She watched warily as he took out the Muggle kettle. "Maybe we should talk some other time, Professor. I have homework tonight."

He answered mildly as he put the water on to boil. "You should have homework every night."

"Professor Trewlawny assigned a dream journal over Easter break. I haven't had time to finish it. And, Professor McGonagal gave us an essay to write tonight in Transfiguration. On top of that, Professor Flitwick wants us to practice our Cheering Charm and Hagrid offered to let me feed his bowtruckles for extra credit."

He smiled at her tactics. Appealing to his scholastic nature in the hopes of avoiding an unwelcome discussion was a very Slytherin maneuver.

"From everything I've heard, Hagrid is a generous instructor. I am certain he would allow you to assist him another night. However, if you are having difficulty in Charms, I would be happy to assist you."

Her shoulders sagged in defeat. "That's okay, Professor. I actually don't need the extra practice. Hermione and I are the only ones who have mastered the spell."

The kettle began to sing, and she grasped at one last excuse to leave. "I did promise to help Ron, though, and you know how much help he needs sometimes."

Suppressing a smirk, he poured the boiling water over the tea leaves. "While your desire to help Mr. Weasley is an honorable one, he will have to wait. As I stated before, I would like to continue the conversation we began this morning."

"Oh."

She watched with the air of a condemned prisoner as he finished preparing the tea. After adding a generous amount of milk and sugar to hers, he handed her the steaming cup. Sullenly, she wrapped her hands around the hot porcelain and stared at the far corner of the kitchen.

Glancing at the Muggle toaster oven that she suddenly found so very fascinating, he began to have misgivings. Perhaps he should drop the topic altogether if it was distressing her so much. After a moment's contemplation, though, he abandoned the thought. Whatever she feared needed to be confronted directly, before it festered into an actual problem. Taking a sip of his own tea, he hoped for the best.

"Considering your circumstances, your assumptions weren't that illogical."

Screwing up her face, she looked at him as if he had suddenly declared the world flat.

"Huh?"

Grimacing at her lack of eloquence, he nevertheless continued. "Your assumption that you would not grow up was not an irrational one considering your circumstances, Rose. I shall not pretend that the Dursleys did anything other than abuse you. Your uncle beat you. Your aunt forced you to spend your childhood in a cupboard. They barely fed you. And, they encouraged their pig of a son to treat you as something less than human. Then, you arrived at Hogwarts only to come face to face with the very wizard who killed your parents and would like nothing more than to see you dead. No, Miss Potter, I am not surprised that you have contemplated the possibility of your death."

At the mention of her abuse, Rose's expression blanked to the extent that he could no longer read her emotions. She carefully placed the teacup on the counter in order to rub her face. When she finally took her hands away, he deliberately gazed into the deep green of her irises. The pain reflected there aged her beyond her years.

Gravely, with a maturity that surprised him, she unflinchingly met his gaze. Without conscious thought, she pushed every miserable minute of her existence with the Dursleys to the forefront of her mind. Bombarded by the sheer enormity of her suffering, he could only marvel at her courage.

"I would never—"

"Of course you wouldn't. I merely wished to put your mind at ease. You are a remarkable young woman and a credit to your House."

His agreement seemed to confuse her. "But Hermione said that you'd be upset. She said that most adults would worry I was mental or something."

His hand started to shake as he handed Rose her cup of tea. It shouldn't be so difficult to admit that he understood all too well, but it was. Even after so many years, he feared the pity, feared another's judgment, even hers. Hated as he was, Tobias had been his father. He could only hope Rose wouldn't condemn him as a coward.

"R-Rose, the r-r-reason . . . ."

Severus clamped his jaw shut. He refused to stammer and stutter his way through his confession.

"Professor?"

He held up his hand, silently asking for her patience. After a moment, he composed himself enough to make another attempt. The Potions Master's voice was clipped, cold and clinical, but he didn't stutter once.

"My father Tobias was a Muggle. My mother did not see fit to inform him that she was a witch until the day I was born. By all accounts, he was less than pleased. To prove she was no better than he, my father beat and bullied my mother until the day she died. When I displayed my first bout of accidental magic at the age of five, he turned his anger towards me. Until I met your mother's family, I thought all Muggles treated wizards and witches as something less than human."

The silence stretched between them, and he feared he had revealed too much. He needn't have worried. Again, her maturity astounded him.

"I think it's more that we're incredibly unlucky, Professor. I met Hermione's parents at King's Cross last year. They're slightly mental when it comes to healthy eating, but other than that, they're very nice. Though, they're dentists, and perhaps that's the way dentists behave. I wouldn't know. Aunt Petunia never took me to a dentist."

He matched her matter of fact tone, grateful that she had understood without the necessity of a lengthy discussion.

"You are fortunate, then, that most witches and wizards do not experience tooth decay as a result of their diet."

Sipping her tea, she regarded him quizzically. "Then why did most of the merchants in Knockturn Alley have such rotten teeth?"

Though he longed to ask how the hell she had ever ended up in Knockturn Alley, he reined in his curiosity to answer her question.

"I said our teeth do not decay as a result of diet. Certain potions and spells can have a detrimental effect on teeth and gums. Sadly, such effects are usually permanent."

She scowled with disgust. "Remind me to stay away from those."

"Since they are firmly grounded in the Dark Arts, I doubt that will be necessary. I trust you are intelligent enough to avoid them altogether."

Theatrically, she rolled her eyes. Such a normal, childish gesture reassured him like nothing else could. His earlier assessment had been correct. Rose was an exceptional young lady who was well on her way to becoming a formidable witch. And, anyone who believed otherwise would have to contend with him first.