Chapter 21: A Gem in the Rough

Snape settled down as fluidly as possible on his office chair which was at the front of the Potions classroom. His fists clenched as another wave of pain hit him, turning the sallow skin on his hand an even whiter colour. Sitting stiffly, he watched as the girl approached the cauldron that was indeed the one that held the Wound-cleaning potion. She gave it a stir, and after waiting a moment, turned off the fire and ladled two scoops of the potion into a vial.

"Where do you keep your clean cloths, sir?" the girl asked as she filled a bucket with water.

"Nowhere."

Some of the water sloshed out the bucket as she turned around quickly in her confusion. His eyes followed the water down to the small puddles on his classroom floor.

Snape lifted a brow. "Magic, perhaps?" he said snidely with a wave of his wand, conjuring two white cloths out of the air. He waved his wand again and the puddles disappeared.

Cyrna clamped her jaw back together. Of course he would be adept in conjuration, she thought sarcastically. Conjuration required even greater skill than transfiguration. It took a lot of magic and control to create something from nothing; it was different from aguamenti and incendio that manipulated the basic elements. Creating something synthetic or man-made from nothing was much more difficult.

The girl dragged a smaller chair towards him, and he assumed that she would sit on it while she treated the bite. However, to his surprise, she knelt on the ground and attempted to move his leg instead.

"What do you think you are doing?" he said, his eyes holding a murderous glint to them.

The girl blinked. "Elevating your leg, sir. It helps, I mean, I heard it helps to reduce the inflammation. Ideally you should lie down too to keep the injury at the same level of your heart…" she trailed off at his darkening glare, "but since I don't think that's happening, just the leg will do."

All he could read was the confidence and surety in her gaze. She was sure in whatever she was planning, and he was going to see just what she was up to. He lifted his leg up and placed it on the stool, deliberately sneering at her as he did so. In a sharp motion, he ripped the tattered cloth that stuck to his leg, exposing the injury for the child to see. Besides a slight widening of her eyes, the child said nothing, instead opting to gently prod the mangled mess of his leg.

"It got you on both sides," she muttered more to herself than to him before she shifted to a more comfortable position and began cleaning off the blood around the area of the wound. She worked quickly, efficiently, and silently. No motion seemed wasted as she cleaned the wound before applying pressure on it.

She frowned after a few minutes had passed and looked up at him.

"The bleeding isn't slowing."

"What an insightful observation," Snape drawled caustically. He eyed the light grip on his leg with distaste, though he made no motion to move it. He felt too fatigued to. The world blurred for a moment—the dungeon floor meeting the ceiling, the girl, a shade of black melting as one with the cabinets and potions of the room. He shook his head sharply in an attempt to focus. "The bite of a dark creature leaves behind fragments of dark magic in its wounds. It requires more time to heal than a common injury."

The girl made a thoughtful noise; seeming to have simply brushed off the tone of his voice. "How would you treat it then?"

"Isn't that what you claimed to know, Miss Raine?" he sneered as he peered down his nose at the girl, fighting down a wave of nausea.

Cyrna frowned at the strain she heard in the baritone voice, and instantly her eyes snapped up and took in the slightly green hue of his face. Slowly so as not to disrupt the injury, she lifted the leg slightly to adjust the bandages beneath it. The limb remained pliable and lax in her grip. Her frown deepened. Surely, he would summon a blood-replenishing potion if he needed one? He must have been familiar with the symptoms of blood loss by now.

"I was planning to use the wound-cleaning potion once the bleeding slowed down after applying pressure to it. After, I had planned to use murtlap essence or dittany. However, applying the wound-cleaning potion directly in the open wound will be far more painful for you than if the wound had closed a bit."

"Murtlap essence and dittany… so Filius was correct. You have been reading ahead."

His suspicions were confirmed when the girl stiffened reflexively, as one usually would when they had been caught hiding something.

Snape's expression was as unreadable as ever when she sharply glanced at him. A faint scowl had the edges tilting down slightly even as he spoke, "Bitterroot balm. You would apply that to the wound first before using the wound-cleaning potion."

Cyrna stood from the ground. "I'll go get that for you."

"I have none in my storeroom, but it is a quick brew."

Cyrna thought back to the books that she had studied at the Flamels, but she could not recall the bitterroot balm. It was surprising, because Nicolas had made her memorize an entire damn book of random plants and their potions.

"I'm not sure you should be standing to brew sir, no matter how quick of a brew it is." She wondered if he could even stand without falling. He must be feeling some sort of dizziness by now.

Snape arched a brow. "Whatever gave you the thought that I would be the one brewing it?"

"You mean—"

"Second drawer from the right. Third row from the bottom of the ingredient shelves." The image of the girl doubled before they merged back together. He couldn't see her expression clearly, but there was no doubt that she was debating if she should obey or not. No mediocre first-year, no matter how closely they followed his instructions, would be able to brew it. There was only one ingredient to this potion, making it appear deceptively easy. However, all that meant was that the quality of the potion was completely dependent on the perfection of its execution. Everything mattered—each stir of the potion must take the same amount of time. An easy thing to do, except the viscosity of the potion would vary from stage to stage. The fire had to be turned on and off at the perfect intervals, and at the end, over-stirring even by one cycle would result in an unusable potion.

Not everyone had a natural ability to sense the viscosity of a potion; something that even the textbooks could not teach, but that sense was vital to brewing the most difficult potions.

He doubted she would be able to brew it perfectly, even natural talent had to be honed. But if the potion looked half acceptable, then he could be certain that her ineptitude in his class, where it seemed like she was using the Granger girl to pass, was faked. Certainly, she had most of the other Slytherins of her year fooled. He had heard snippets of conversation on how she was just leeching off of the Gryffindor but seeing as that was practically the epitome of Slytherin, none of her housemates looked at her distastefully for doing so.

He returned his attention to the girl when she spoke. Or tried to. The headache was terrible.

"I have never read about this potion, much less had the opportunity to brew it before, sir. I might make a mistake in the balm, and that could be harmful to you."

He sneered at the girl, glad that she was standing a ways off from him so that she could not feel the minute tremble in his leg. He would figure out what her little game was before he drank the blood-replenishing potion.

"Do not forget that I am a Potions Master. If it were not up to par, I would not let you use your pathetic creation on me," he said lowly with a quiet hiss to his words.

The blood-soaked bandages that she had wrapped around his leg in an attempt to stall the bleeding was a gruesome sight when combined with the tiny red puddle that had collected on the ground and the quiet drip as scarlet drops rippled the puddle at regular intervals.

Cyrna glanced at the professor's face and noted that while it had been a sickly green colour minutes ago, it had now taken on a whitened pallor. She wondered how he could still maintain his focus, because she had no doubt that he had certainly lost a lot of blood. Will, she presumed. He certainly had willpower and stubbornness in spades. She felt as if he was testing her when he asked for her to brew the balm, but now, when she looked at his hands, she wondered if he was just trying to ask for help.

She still didn't know why he refused to summon the blood-replenishing potion or tell her to fetch it for him.

"What would you do if I refused to brew the balm for you, sir?" Cyrna asked calmly, meeting the professor's eyes. "Certainly, the Headmaster would not allow you to punish me for refusing."

"I would brew it myself," the professor replied with gritted teeth.

She couldn't help herself. "Would you be able too?" she asked with a slight arch of her brow as she glanced pointedly at the minute shake in his hands.

Instantly, Snape straightened in his seat. "Get. Out," he hissed succinctly with a quiet growl.

Her eyes widened with fear as his eyes glared darkly into hers. The anger simmering in the depths of his eyes made her step back, and she didn't even bother to hide her flinch.

Never had he been this upset with her, not even when she had lied to his face about Quirrell.

Quickly, she wiped away any expression on her face and with a sharp pivot, headed out the classroom, making sure to close the door quietly as she stepped into the darkened hallway. Her heart drummed rapidly as she walked hastily towards the common room. In front of the dormitory, she could hear Pansy's snide voice and Draco's dramatic voice as he spun a story to the other Slytherins—probably about something his father did, for sure.

Just before saying the password, she hesitated, looking back down the hallway to where the Potions classroom was. She felt uneasy. Something felt off to her. When she had turned around to lock the Potions classroom door, she had caught a glimpse of the professor slumping back on his seat. Heavy breathing. Unlocked door. She had been the one to close the door behind her, when usually he would flick his wrist to slam the door on her face. He delighted in her startlement whenever he did that, she was sure of it.

Cyrna was 99% certain that after taking a breather, the professor was likely to summon a blood-replenishing potion, and if the professor had not lied about the lack of the bitterroot potion, then it was likely he would pour the wound-cleaning potion on his leg before applying murtlap essence. She doubted the professor was vain enough to use dittany to prevent the scarring.

This process would no doubt stop the bleeding, however, his leg was bound to be in pain for the next few days if the wound-cleaning potion was applied to his open wound in that fashion. That stuff burned if applied directly like that, according to the book she had read. No wonder he had been limping for the next few weeks in the books.

The dangerous anger that simmered quietly in his eyes as the black pools that should have been icy and unfeeling flashed fiercely at her.

She shivered before giving her head a shake. "Unity," she said as the wall parted to reveal the common room.

The room quieted when she entered.

"Where were you?" Pansy said archly in the silence.

"I was busy getting lost, Pansy," Cyrna said.

Her response was more barbed than usual as her mind continued to replay the scene of Snape slumping back on his chair. The blood that she could see did not ease the uneasiness she felt. But she couldn't brew that potion. She just couldn't. It would be even more time consuming if she had to pretend to spoil her potion multiple times than if she had just left and let Snape take care of himself.

"How do you manage to get lost two months into school?" Blaise asked with a drawl.

"The shifting staircases. They were behaving differently when I left the library."

"They were acting up a bit," Daphne said, her voice cold as she stated the fact. "We got lost as well when we tried to make our ways back to the dungeons."

"There was so much walking. It was ridiculous," Draco said with a small frown. "Why anyone would want to live in a tower that high up is beyond me."

"It's nice and quiet up there with how isolated it is. There's also a lot of natural light, which is quite nice," Cyrna answered as she slid into the seat beside Millicent.

"The dark does get a bit dreary at times," Daphne agreed.

"I suppose," Draco drawled before he squinted and slowly sat up from his lounging position on the couch. "Cyrna, is that blood?"

"Blood?" Cyrna echoed. Now remembering the blood-soaked cloth she had been holding against the professor's leg, she instantly glanced at her hands, expecting to see a smattering of red. However, to her surprise, there was not a single drop. She certainly hadn't had the presence of mind to clean her hands.

Snape.

"Not on your hands, you idiot," Draco said, giving Cyrna a strange look. At her look of confusion, he rolled his eyes and sighed. "Your right knee."

Cyrna looked down and saw a small smear of blood just beneath where her skirt ended. The school robes she had worn over her uniform must have parted when she had sat down. Still, she found it strange that there was blood.

If the professor had cast scourgify or tergeo, her entire person should have been automatically cleaned of blood. The spell wasn't selective in the way it would only clean the blood from her hands. Besides, even the blood on the hem of her robes and robes, the less obvious places, were gone. She studied the smear on her knees, and her uneasiness grew.

"Cyrna?" Daphne said after a moment had passed.

Cyrna stood up and stretched before she turned back to the Slytherins. "I fell and scrapped my knee before applying a wound-cleaning potion to it. I suppose I forgot to clean the blood after."

"A wound-cleaning potion?" Theodore asked.

Cyrna dug into the pockets and pulled out the vial she had meant to give to Snape. There was more wound-cleaning potion in the cauldron, and she was sure he could summon it to him if needed.

Right?

Pinpricks of cold dotted her skin.

"Why are you walking around with a wound-cleaning potion?" Pansy asked with a slight wrinkle in her nose.

"Being cautious and prepared," Cyrna said blandly.

Daphne studied her friend silently before she smirked. "Well, if I get injured, I certainly know who to go to if I don't want to see the nurse."

Cyrna dipped her head and met Daphne's gaze with a replying smirk. "At your service, though I would expect you to pay me with ingredients that I might use for my potions."

"Well," Daphne said only half-teasingly, "I would be your patron if you wish to set up a store some time after Hogwarts."

Cyrna couldn't tell if her friend was being serious or not by her tone, so she settled it with a smile. "That's too far ahead, Daphne. I'm afraid I don't have the same mind for strategizing as the Greengrass heiress."

Daphne hid her smile as she arched a brow coldly. "You flatter me."

Cyrna chuckled before she tilted her head and surveyed the group of Slytherins sitting near the fireplace. "Say," she started slowly. "Do many of you know Professor Snape well?"

The attention of several Slytherins sharpened on her.

"Fairly well," Draco said with a hint of caution. "Why?"

"In your opinion, is he one to, uh, make mistakes?"

"What do you mean by that, Cyrna?" Draco asked, an edge creeping into his voice.

"Nothing, really," she said with a sigh as she sat back down on the ground. "It's just that he's always so uptight that I wonder if the man is even capable of making a careless mistake. I swear he's got straight O's in his report card."

"He's a bit uptight, yeah," Pansy said with a little sniff. "But he's brilliant in his field. I don't know what compelled him to stay in this dingy school."

Draco nodded in agreement with a passion that Cyrna rarely saw. "He's brilliant; my father said he is!"

Theodore looked at Draco in an unimpressed manner before he turned back to Cyrna. "Well, he's incredibly thorough in everything he does—which, in return, may be why you think he's a bit uptight."

"Careless?" Blaise snorted as if she had told him a joke.

"He's probably the most careful person I know," Daphne said to the agreement of practically every Slytherin in the room, if the nods were anything to go by.

She put her hands up in a placating manner. "Okay, okay," Cyrna said with a smile that could probably win the award for the least genuine smile ever—not that the other Slytherins would know this. "I suppose I'll have to just tolerate his teaching for at least the next five years. Maybe some of his genius will show up when I get my O.W.L results after fifth year."

Pansy huffed. "Doubtful."

"Well, I guess I'm going to head out to clean off my knee before I turn in for bed. It's been a hectic day," Cyrna said as she moved towards the door.

"You don't say," Blaise said sarcastically. "Honestly, how did a troll show up on Halloween?"

The chatter faded as she exited the common room. She hesitated only for a brief moment before she sprinted to the Potions classroom. Arriving there, she took her time to calm herself before she knocked lightly on the door.

Not hearing a response, she knocked harder.

She could feel her body tremble slightly, her heart drumming faster again as adrenaline coursed through her. Carefully, she tested the handle and found it unlocked. That was not good.

Checking that there was no one else in the hallway, she quickly opened the door and slipped into the classroom, making sure to quietly shut the door behind her.

"Professor, I—"

The words died in her mouth and she ran to the front of the classroom. He was slumped in his chair, exactly as she had last seen him, except his foot was no longer elevated. Unlike before, his limbs were still and unmoving. She could not even see a single twitch.

Oh Merlin. He better not be dead.

She didn't even—couldn't even begin to think of the repercussions that would cause to the story. And how pathetic would it be for him to die from blood loss to some dog because of her incompetence? She should have just forced that blood-replenishing potion into him before she left.

She grasped his shoulders, giving him a firm shake. He did not rouse, but up close, she could see the rise and fall of his chest. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and her panic abated to a manageable extent.

Picking up a wrist to check his pulse, she yelped when the wrist suddenly turned, the hand attached to it grasping her arm in a bruising grip.

Sheer relief filled her when she looked up to see the professor staring at her. His eyes were narrowed more so than usual as he squinted in an attempt to focus on the child. She blurred in and out of focus, and the grip in which he held her was weakening quickly. He let go, his hand dropping to his side.

"What are you doing here, Miss Raine?" he asked, his voice raspier than he would like. "Did I not tell you to get out?"

The eyes were wide and blue as they stared at him. The relief in them so strong that Snape wondered if he was seeing correctly.

Her gaze quickly darted to his leg before realization dawned on them when she saw that the wounds were now closed. His momentary loss consciousness was likely from the pain that pouring a bottle of wound-cleaning potion onto an open wound would cause.

"I thought I killed you," the child muttered finally when she returned to meet his gaze.

Snape narrowed his eyes even more trying to figure out what the damn girl was trying to say.

"Kill me?" he said derisively. "How would you accomplish that?"

"With my incompetence and idiocy," the girl said solemnly in return.

He must had given her a look of pure befuddlement because she pointed at her right knee in what should have been an explanation. "Look," the girl said. "There's still a bit of blood there."

He fought the fog in his mind to figure what she was trying to say, but the sheer exhaustion he was feeling from blood loss and from doing non-verbal spells did not help his cause. "Speak clearly," he snapped at her.

"The other Slytherins told me it wasn't like you to be careless, and so I couldn't imagine that you would have missed the blood on my knee when you were performing the cleaning spell if everything had been alright."

He stared at her hard, the reason finally clicking in his brain. It made sense. Indeed, if he hadn't been so exhausted when he had casted the spell, there would have been no trace of blood.

"It would have been really bad if you died," the girl muttered again, this time her gaze was not fixed on him, rather, they seemed to stare off into the distance. "Really bad. You can't die right now."

"Just right now?" Snape asked sarcastically.

This brought the girl back, and she flushed bright red.

"R-right! You can't die right now. Or ever. Not ever," she stammered.

Snape blinked slowly in surprise at those words. He stared at the child and noted that she was flustered at her own words as well, if the redness in her ears was any indication. She shifted uncomfortably as the silence dragged on.

"Well," he cleared his throat, peering down severely at the raven-haired child. He really had no idea what she was playing at now. "I'm afraid I would have to disappoint you in that, Miss Raine. I am, like you, unfortunately mortal."

"Right," the child squeaked before she clamped her mouth shut.

Snape gave her a strange stare. "And as you can see, I'm alive right now," he drawled throwing her a glance that had her even more flustered. "So, seeing as I've managed to treat myself, you may be dismissed."

"Right," the child echoed herself.

Snape lifted a questioning brow when she remained where she stood.

"Perhaps I could fetch the blood-replenishing potion for you before I leave, sir?"

He stared at her.

"Um, and maybe the murtlap essence if you tell me where it is?"

Snape leaned back on his chair and stared at the child whose posture was the picture of guilt with her slightly hunched shoulders and twiddling fingers. He sighed as he pinched his nose in exhaustion. He would have to summon those potions if he didn't have her fetch it.

"Why those potions specifically?" he asked her.

"You look very pale, sir," she said quietly. "Paler than normal. And if it's true that you didn't have the bitterroot balm, then you likely used the wound-cleaning potion on your open wound, meaning that your leg right now probably feels like it's burning in pain. Murtlap essence would soothe the pain, and you're likely to have some in your storeroom, seeing as it is a staple in the hospital wing."

Grudgingly, Snape had to admit that her reasoning was sound, if not far more advanced than what other children her age should be capable of.

He sighed tiredly as he closed his eyes. "I do not know why you insist on pretending to be mediocre, Miss Raine." Snape didn't even have to look to his Slytherin to know that she had stiffened. "And before you protest, think again. Do not take me for a fool."

Cyrna clamped her mouth shut immediately.

He waved his wand at his potions storeroom to unlock it. The slight use of magic making him feel more drained than it should have. "I am certain you know where the two items are."

A few seconds later, he heard the rustling of robes and quiet footsteps as the child made her way over to the storeroom. In only a short moment, she was back. He heard the two clinks as she settled the items on his desk. He opened his eyes with a bit of effort, and to no one's surprise, she had brought him the correct potions.

She wouldn't meet his eyes when she was back, opting instead to stare hard at the injury on his leg.

Lifting the blood-replenishing potion with shaky hands, he downed it and immediately felt less lightheaded, though the weakness that came with blood loss had yet to leave him. He reached for the second potion, but before he could touch it, small hands had snatched it up.

He looked at her. The child's lips had pulled back into a tight line, her eyes seemed to stare at anything but him.

"It will be faster if I do it," she said as she indicated for him to rest his leg once again on the stool.

The girl was strange and suspicious. He had no idea what she was planning; no idea why she was at Hogwarts or here in the classroom helping him when half an hour ago, she had seemed content to let him suffer on his own.

However, he was now fairly certain that whatever she was hiding was not some sort of dastardly plan to harm him or anyone of the school. After years of spying, he trusted his instinct when it told him that the relief he had first seen when he had been woken from his faint had not been faked.

Slowly, he placed his leg on the stool, and this time, without the pretense of asking for his directions to pretend that she didn't know what to do, the girl went straight into applying the potion. Silently, he watched as she correctly started outwards before moving into the wounded area. Working quietly she quickly finished the task.

"Bandages, sir?"

"On the bottom shelf of the cabinet," he answered.

Fetching the bandages, she came back and wrapped up his leg with an efficiency that surprised him. Knowing how to apply a potion after reading a book was one thing, but bandaging was different. You couldn't be good at it with theory alone. You needed practice.

And she…

"It's not too tight or loose?" she asked.

"It is passable."

A faint smile crossed her lips. "That's high praise from you, Professor Snape."

And she must have had a lot of practice.

He thought back to his own past. He had reacted to his situation by choosing to strive for greatness in order to prove to himself and his father that he was worth something; however, it was possible that others might have responded differently. Perhaps, in her mediocrity, she wanted to disappear rather than stand out. He remembered how she had mentioned in passing that in her neighbourhood, she had been picked on because of her size.

The blue eyes that stared at him with terror mixed with relief when he arrived, halting Quirrell from doing whatever he had planned; they shined in the darkness of the dungeons with an excitement that had flattered him when he had offered to supervise her little extraction project. Now that he doubted that she was faking this whole thing, he allowed that hint of warmth he experienced at that moment to return.

The smug delight in her eyes as she succeeded her extraction—the relief when he had woken up a few minutes ago…

And finally, her intelligence. The cunningness that sparked in her eyes. The talent for Potions, and possibly for other subjects, that she was hiding…

She might want to fade into anonymity, but he thought that would be wasted.

Besides, he knew best what happened to people who tried to disappear, who never stood up for themselves. He only needed to remember his mother to know that he did not wish that fate on his Slytherin.

"Well, I'll be heading back now. Sorry for all this," she muttered before she headed to the door.

"Miss Raine," Snape called her name in an even tone. "You are aware that I only accept those who score an 'O' in O.W.L's into my sixth-year class?"

Cyrna frowned, of course she knew that. Who didn't?

"Yes, sir."

"Perhaps what you don't know is that I also consider the Potion grades from first-year to fifth-year. I require nothing less than an 'EE' for each of these years before I even consider your mark from O.W.L's"

Her brows furrowed. "I'll try my best, sir," Cyrna replied, not really understanding what he was hinting at.

"That is what I expect from all my Slytherins," Snape said with a smirk.

Tingles sprang up on Cyrna's skin. That smirk could not mean anything good.

"Goodnight, sir," she said hastily as she tried to get to the hallway.

"Not so fast, Miss Raine."

Cyrna gulped and slowly turned back to face him, in what she hoped to be an unreadable expression.

"Starting next week, you are to be paired with Longbottom for Potions, so it would indeed be in your best interest to try in class. If not for the 'EE,' then for the simple matter of self-preservation."

In the next second, he flicked the door shut on her face, delighting in the horror that dawned on her expression. He ran his fingers over the bandages, and his thoughts fell back to the skill in which she had prepared the ingredients in class as well as in the extraction of the emulsion from the spike. He had watched as she had glued her eyes on the potion the Granger girl brewed every class. Each stir, each change in the potion was no doubt caught by her eyes. She handed Miss Granger the ingredients at the perfect time. He would bet that her skill lay not only in her ingredient preparation but also in her brewing.

He would not have her make the same mistake as his mother.

That shred of talent he had seen—

He would make something of it.


A/N: Thanks for reading! Stay safe everyone :)