Their first month back at Hogwarts! If Snape seems extreme, consider that he is now a man without a purpose and of course, he's still not over being healed and kept against his will. Please let me know what you think!

Chapter 4: Locking Horns

~o~

Severus waited in front of McGonagall's study door for almost five minutes. He suspected that now as headmistress, Minerva, like so many others, had developed a taste for power.

"How are you faring?" she asked briskly as he entered, wasting no breath on the usual niceties.

"I have practised for this post for nineteen years," he said surly as he sat down.

"There seems to be a certain animosity between you and Thorne," the headmistress said as she studied him through her square spectacles. Of course, McGonagall got straight to the point.

"She was my student," he said, as if that explained things.

"I doubt that is the only reason." McGonagall looked at him sharply and Severus understood that this would not suffice. That circumstance might explain her animosity, though not his. He had to come up with a more elaborate explanation. It came in handy that his skill for lying had been what had kept him alive for the past twenty years.

"She worked for the Order in some run-down establishment in London. There, she poisoned three of the Dark Lord's followers, as you probably know." He felt an almost childish glee repeating these accusations to Minerva who no doubt vehemently disapproved of that sort of behaviour.

"It was impossible to miss, with her face in all newspapers." McGonagall's lips curled in distaste. Indeed, Thorne had been sought throughout the country. And the Dark Lord's Ministry, exploiting the base reputation of poisoners, had given her an adequate title. "I still fail to understand what that has to do with you."

"Well, I was there. She got into a fight with the survivors – "

McGonagall interrupted him: "Why would she poison them and then stick around for a duel?"

"The three victims were amongst her mother's torturers and killers. Jugson, Davies and Adler." He felt he was defending her as he saw how Minerva's expression softened. Severus wished he hadn't mentioned it. He had assumed the girl had gloated of her deeds in front of the Order but apparently, they had had no idea. Except for Dumbledore of course, who, as always, was annoyingly well-informed, even as a damned portrait. He simply gazed down at them patiently, waiting for Severus' reply. He knew he now had to provide a full account of what had transpired although it was hardly his duty to clear up her mess.

"It seemed to me at the time that she had acted on a whim when she recognised them," he started, determined not to endear her to McGonagall any further. And he was right, wasn't he? She had acted rashly and irrationally, in her best interest, not the Order's. "She served the poison and probably meant to flee but she had forgotten about the barkeeper. Thorne came back, rather too late, to protect her from any harm. The woman barely escaped with her life. Thorne then tried to take on four, now especially resentful Death Eaters at once." Yes, that made her sound like the big-headed idiot she was.

"You among them." McGonagall's tone was sharp once more. She didn't show any other reaction to his recount of events.

"I was keeping a promise," Severus said, tightly, and he felt Dumbledore's portrait smiling down at him.

"So how did she survive? As far as I remember she is a relatively skilled duellist, yet I doubt she could keep up with four seasoned Death Eaters." There was the famed sharpness and a distrust of him that had been two decades in the making.

Severus didn't miss the distaste in her voice as she counted him among them. Minerva was as resentful as a hippogriff.

"She managed to escape in an unguarded moment," Severus lied. However satisfying it would have been to reveal her ineptitude in that duel, he didn't want to reveal the role he had played in her escape. People already talked too much about the motives for his engagement as a double spy, he didn't need any speculations about why he had helped the girl. Nor did he want anyone to know what she had done in retaliation.

Minerva clearly harboured doubts but she knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't say another word.

"I see. This war has stirred us all. But we cannot keep living with the animosity of the past."

Is that so? Then why was McGonagall still looking at him as if he was some very unpleasant thing stuck to the sole of her shoe? It seemed to him that the headmistress herself had no reservations about living with the animosity of the past.

"I hope you understand that I will not tolerate any sort of ongoing quarrel among my staff. I will talk to Thorne, too."

He wished her good luck with that. The girl was as arrogant and pig-headed as Black had been.

~o~

The first weeks of term were challenging for Cora. She had never dealt with a classroom full of children before and although she did her best to remember her own school days, some things were irretrievably lost.

"Potions," she started her first lesson with the first years, "are a very subtle form of magic. Some of you might therefore be tempted to consider it a lesser subject, an easier subject, because there will be no complicated wand waving, no intricate spellwork." Oh, Merlin, she sounded like Snape. "I, however, would like to show you how varied, how difficult and how fascinating potion making is. There are things you can brew up in a cauldron that no wand can ever conjure for you."

The class started with a very simple antidote. That, too, she had taken from Snape's notes. However mean he had been, his teaching schedule had followed a very stringent internal logic, she saw now. He had been careful to build up students' knowledge slowly. And there had been few accidents, after all.

Cora knew how dangerous potions could be, especially if one didn't follow the instructions.

"Now, remember," she clapped her hands, "Check your instructions before add –"

A cauldron in the back row erupted with a loud bang. A tar-like substance was streaming down the desk. Black smoke filled the air. Her wand was already pointing at the cauldron. "Rescindo," Cora screamed, knowing that she had only seconds to undo the action. The potion flowed back into the cauldron, the air cleared.

She looked at the culprit sharply. "Mr Turpin, am I correct to assume you added the asphodel without weighing it properly at first?"

Mr Turpin, white-faced and apparently shocked, nodded weakly.

She felt for him. "Next time, you'll weigh it properly, I'm sure." She walked back to the blackboard, determined to command attention. "Now, all of you, follow the instructions closely. What happened just now is a party trick compared to the mishaps that can occur in potion making. There's another reason to do your best: I will award the best antidote with a bar of Honeyduke's Caramel Chocolate."

After a few rookie mistakes in the early days, Cora was, to her great surprise, doing much better than expected. She loved potions and she also learned that she loved teaching the subject. Most of her students were eager to do well. Thursday morning belonged to the Gryffindor fifth years. She had sworn not to show any partiality towards any house and she had stood by that resolution. This class, however, was one of her favourites. A group of spirited, energetic and ambitious students. Sure, a few of them had had to complete some extra work, and yes, they did not only apply their energy to potion making, but all in all, they had their hearts in the right place. As usual, she started the lesson with a short explanation of the subject and its applications because Cora believed firmly that potion making was a practical discipline that required some knowledge of the consequences an abortive attempt might entail in the real world, without the perfect classroom conditions and her watchful eye.

"We will study a lot of healing potions this year. If the war has shown us anything, then it is how truly important healing is. It is very important to note that almost all healing potion recipes are based on Golpalott's Second Law, which is…Yes, Mr Taylor?"

"That all poisons can be applied as remedies, given the proper dosage and combination with other substances."

"Very good," Cora nodded. "Take ten points for Gryffindor. Because of Golpalott's Law, healing potions are potentially dangerous and should be handled with utmost care. Is that understood, Miss Jordan?"

The girl looked up cluelessly. "Yes, Professor."

"You don't have the foggiest idea what I just said, do you?" Cora did her best not to smile. This was a crucial part of the lesson.

"You were saying that... potions are dangerous." It was a very Gryffindor thing to do and Cora had done it, too. Guessing her teacher's earlier remark.

"A good guess," she said with a smile.

Even Jordan smiled.

"Once again and for all of you: Healing potions can go terribly wrong." She waved her wand and a picture of a man covered in terrible furuncles, apparently in agony, appeared on the board. "This man could not be cured because he didn't remember exactly what he had dropped in his Blood-Clotting Solution. He died in St. Mungo's after years of suffering."

She had read about him in Cauldrons and Scales.

"For now, we will work on a very unspecific drought, one that should cure most minor injuries. I, " she twinkled, "used to brew this in my time at school in preparation for the corridor fights some of us," her eyes rested on Timothy Fassbender and Alex Jordan, the two most unruly troublemakers in Gryffindor. "occasionally got into accidentally. It did come in handy."

Some of her students were returning her conspiratorial smile now.

"Disappointing but unsurprising," a dark voice sneered and Cora looked up. Snape stood in the open door.

"Ah, Snape. Came to learn something?" she asked airly, then turned to the board again, waving her wand, so that instructions appeared where earlier, the man had cried out silently. It didn't matter. None of her students showed the slightest inclination to start on their potions. Their eyes darted from one teacher to the other. It was evident who their favourite was.

"Hardly," Snape said disdainfully. "It seems the only thing you teach is a brazen disregard for rules."

"And you mean you are expert enough in that?" Cora asked with a smile and was rewarded with some stifled laughs. Her students would suffer in Defense that afternoon. She was intent on matching Snape point for point today, at least.

He sneered at her. "I am an expert in quite many things, few of which you'd understand." She had always loathed his patronising tone.

"Oh, I'm certain that's true," she said casually, doing her best not to let on her anger. "There are some things I have never been particularly inclined to study up close." She hoped her students would fail to grasp her insinuation but had no doubt Snape, prickly as he was, would pick it up. She was rewarded with a look of cold anger but didn't let him speak. This would turn nasty soon and she had no inclination to let her students take the heat for their strife. "Anyway, Snape, if you haven't come to learn, then you must have come here for a different reason altogether. So, in all our interest, say what you want and leave."

"Of course," he said smoothly after a short pause, "You need to carry on with this highly effective lesson. I need boomslang skin, Professor Thorne."

And of course, that couldn't wait? she thought angrily. He had come here for exactly this: A trial of strength in front of her students with the added benefit that she couldn't refuse this simple request publicly.

"And I will get you some if you promise to leave right away." Again, she caught some smiles from her very partial students.

Snape, too, smiled, though not in a way that deserved the cheerful association of the word.

"You might find it surprising, Professor Thorne, but there is really very little that could convince me to keep you company any longer than needed."

Cora's hand stilled for a short moment while retrieving the boomslang skin from the cupboard. Then she, too, smiled. "Finally we have found something we heartily agree upon."

She walked over to Snape, who hadn't attempted to leave his spot by the door, seemingly enjoying the fact that he made her run his errand, then he nodded curtly and, with a last contemptuous glance, he left at last.

Sighing, Cora tried to cool herself down.

"Professor," Alex Jordan's hand went up although she had of course long started speaking. "I think I speak for the rest of the class when I tell you how cool that was." She grinned.

"Well, it wasn't very professional," Cora said, now regretting the harsh words in front of their students. "And now, back to our healing draughts. With the first Quidditch match approaching, it might prove useful quite soon, hm?" She remembered quite well how much Quidditch had whipped up feeling.

While Cora found her life at Hogwarts invigorating, Severus had problems adjusting to the quiet routine he had feigned to follow for sixteen years.

His days were always too long, filled with too many silent hours of thought. He had saved the boy. Kept his promise. Done his part. What more was there to do for him? He had nothing else to do. He had nothing. No dreams, no aspirations, no friends. He had never thought that "empty" would one day describe him rather well and he was reluctant to accept that that had been all he was. He simply had to find something to keep him occupied, something more than teaching.

"Moping again?" She stood in the doorway of his study, her emerald green robe rippling in the breeze that was always wafting through the dungeons. As if he had needed her to dampen his mood even more.

"I fail to remember an invitation," he said, coldly. After the unfortunate incident during her class, he had refrained from interrupting her again. McGonagall had been quite outspoken about her zero-tolerance policy for staff conflict and he doubted she'd approve of their quarrel in front of students. That did not mean, however, that he wouldn't seize the chance to set her straight if it presented itself like this.

"And here I am, expecting a goblet of elf-made wine and a nice chat." She entered uninvited and set a stack of parchments down on his desk.

"The students of your house who will fail Potions if they don't stop jinxing each other during class. Don't you think it is surprising how many Slytherins are barely scraping it together in Potions now that you're gone? One could think you've been favouring them." Once again she wore that delicate smile that brought out the dimples in her cheeks. Who would take his side if she looked like innocence personified?

"Don't worry about their drop in grades too much," he replied patronisingly. "You will learn to be a better teacher, no doubt." He did his best to lay a lot of doubt into his words.

"From whom?" she asked back, "My only role model were you. And we know how that went." Cora knew that the sensible thing was to simply leave him here, to himself and his dark thoughts. He was in an especially bad mood tonight and was glad for the chance to take it out on her. But, fool that she was, she stayed, standing in front of his desk like a summoned insubordinate student. In many ways, she still felt like that.

"I cannot take credit for that," Snape replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair, relaxed. Insulting her evidently lifted his spirits. Glad to help. "You were already insufferable at 11."

Should she go down that rabbit hole? A part of her, the stubborn Gryffindor, roared that she would never back down but the more sensible, more grown up part knew that tonight had the potential for another catastrophe.

So she only replied "You find everyone insufferable, Snape," in a soft voice.

She left him with that but he still heard the rustling of her robes until she reached the ground floor.

She was right, he did. She was one of the more interesting insufferables, though. And fighting with her had made him feel a little less isolated.

~o~

Thorne had played only a minor role in the war. Yet, she had made a name for herself with three fire whiskeys. Her deeds had been drawn out by some especially snappy journalist for a rather recent article, citing a handful of sources that had no way of knowing what exactly Thorne had done. They made her out as some revenge-driven witch that had attempted to poison not only Death Eaters but simply everyone within reach. The article had conveniently forgotten about her work for the Order of the Phoenix and had instead found that Thorne was the most talented poisoner in modern times, selling forbidden potions on the black market for exorbitant prices. While of course all of that was nonsense, the article had shown very good intuition. For the newly emerging post-war society that liked to admire the bravery of their heroes, a poison attack was too cunning, too sly to be considered a hero's deed. Severus had reckoned she'd be an outcast here, like him. Unpopular, not downright shunned but always distant. He had assumed right away she wouldn't belong.

When he noticed that her ostentatiously cheerful disposition, her easy smiles, her generous laughs made her popular among the staff, he grew resentful. Had he himself contributed to her growing popularity by telling McGonagall the truth? It didn't sit right with him that they seemed to take a liking to her, albeit slowly. He didn't want her to overcome her war reputation, he didn't want her to simply walk away from what had been. And didn't they see how fake her smiles were? How eager she was to ingratiate herself with the staff? Apparently not. Flitwick seemed positively entranced. Even McGonagall had occasionally granted her a thin smile.

After a staff meeting, when he had heard Flitwick refer to her as "Cora" rather affectionately, he needed an opportunity to vent his anger.

"Severus," McGonagall looked at him more warmly than she had in a very long time and he was quite relieved she'd never heard of their quarrel in class. "I know you still have a lot of your teaching documents. It might benefit Cordelia's work." Now, she nodded curtly at her. Cora didn't think that anything Snape could show her would be beneficial but in front of the headmistress, she merely nodded back, managing even a weak smile. McGonagall had the students' best interests in mind. And perhaps, there were some things she could take away from Snape's notes.

The staff room emptied soon after the meeting. It was quite late already and there were lessons in the morning.

She stayed behind with Snape, ignoring the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"My notes on the first years," he gave her a notebook, bound in stained black leather. "And my schedule for poisons and antidotes from year two to year seven." When he smirked, Cora braced herself for a low blow.

"Of course," he said, as he handed her a stack of dog-eared, ink stained parchments, "there is very little the famed poisoner can learn from me in that respect. You seem to be a better potion maker than you let on in your school days."

He had succeeded in making her angry, he saw, although something else mingled with rage. If he didn't know better, he'd have said she was close to tears, but when she spoke, her voice sounded normal.

"I wouldn't have thought you'd set much store by Skeeter's articles, considering that you were present. You knew I was working for the Order." She forced herself to keep her voice even. These articles had hurt her more than she liked to admit although by now, only very few people truly believed Skeeter's ludicrous accusations.

"I saw very little of you during your days in the Order otherwise," Severus said, knowing that the thinly veiled insinuation of cowardice would rile her up.

"I expect you did. It was in the best interest of the Order to reveal as few of their members to you as possible, wasn't it?"

"Yet, as far as I recall, you weren't there for the Battle at the MInistry, were you? Nor did you fly with Potter." He was aware that she might have had other duties, that perhaps her identity had been protected for her later placement. Still, he enjoyed seeing her bristle at the accusation.

"Are you calling me a coward?" Her voice was so low that he had trouble understanding her.

"I only wondered how the Order of the Phoenix benefitted from your membership," he replied, in the same low tones.

"I trained as an auror," she replied through gritted teeth. Severus wasn't very surprised. That sort of bangs-and-smell magic seemed right up her street.

"And yet, you are here." He gestured towards the staff room door, the papers in her arms. Why would an auror teach potions?

She looked at him defiantly. "Yes. I took my revenge. So after the war, I wondered: Why risk my perfectly good limbs for a job others do much better? And I was potion maker and healer for the Order," she smiled at him smugly and Severus wondered why that task had not been his. Although, of course, as a spy, he had been much more important than that. "So, when Slughorn left, I figured this was a good idea."

Severus sneered. "Selfless motives then." They really were perfectly good limbs, he had to admit

Cora had done her best to keep a cool head. That Snape, of all people, now accused her of egocentrism, the man that had, despite his formidable accomplishments that she didn't mean to belittle in any way, been a reluctant, hostile, dismissive teacher, who had bullied children to feel better, who had belittled every effort, was too much.

"Same as you, hm?" she asked, her voice dangerously low. She didn't know of course why Snape had joined Dumbledore, to her credit. She thought his Death Eater days had been an adolescent mistake, a grave one, of course, but one he had rectified. If anyone had told her then that Severus Snape, part-time teacher and full-time malevolent bat, had switched sides for love, at least originally, she would have thought them the victim of a particularly strong Confundus Charm. Therefore, she didn't understand why Snape was turning this very ugly shade of pink.

"I have been here for –" he forced out between clenched teeth but Cora put him off, she had heard enough of his heroic deeds.

"Oh, give it a bone, Snape. I read The Prophet, too, I already know you're a saint – and a scoundrel. I wonder whether Ms Skeeter would appreciate a candid interview. I can almost see the headline: Living With A Spy: Colleague of Severus Snape spills the beans: The most famous double agent's surprisingly boring private life unveiled."

"I already knew you missed your vocation," he said, his voice dripping with scorn. "Cheap sensationalism seems to be your one great talent. Anyway, Thorne, I fear you have misunderstood one basic feature of threats: They have to be believable. I, however, know you think yourself too noble to cohort with the likes of Skeeter although of course you have just shown how well suited you are."

By now, he saw that Thorne was seething with rage. She had turned a very bright shade of pink. "Thank you for yet another valuable lesson," she managed at last.

Finally feeling as if this conversation had had its benefits, Severus gave her a smug smirk. "Anytime."

Then he left her to her anger and swept down to the silence of his study, feeling that, for once, it had been a rather good day.

He should have known that Thorne would never admit defeat. A few days later, in the staff room, she sat down in the chair next to him although the room was now otherwise unoccupied.

She pulled out a mass of parchment. 5th year essays, he saw. She graded them right here, for him to watch. There were remarks in the margins, things like "An interesting thought" or "well-done".

This would only tell her students that their mediocre performance was sufficient.

"I must say," she said as she tapped her wand against the last essay that promptly wrapped into a tight scroll, "that teaching is a very fulfilling profession. The other day, a teary-eyed seventh year thanked me for finally explaining Golpalott's Three Laws in a way non-professionals can actually understand. Then, of course, there are the hordes of students that ask me questions about their Defense Against the Dark Arts essays because they seem to think you'd react, well, let's call it impatient."

"My lessons contain all necessary information. It is not in my interest that inattentive, lazy or incapable students crowd my classes. Of course, you sympathise with them."

"I do. I, too, suffered under an iniquitous teacher."

"I have noticed," Snape said very slowly, "that only those students complain vehemently about my unfairness and impossibly high standards that fail to keep up. So forgive me if I fail to muster the same sympathy."

Thorne looked at him for an uncomfortably long moment. Then, she raised her wand and all the scrolls flew into her bag, piling up untidily.

"Sometimes," she said, unsmiling, "I'd really like to know how your school days went."

"You'd be pleased, no doubt." He replied, rising from his chair.

She got up, too, and met his gaze. "Oh, you know, I don't know I would."

And with that she left him behind. Severus wondered whether he had revealed too much while Cora, seeking refuge in her classroom, started, for the first time, to question her steadfast belief that Snape was quite simply evil. There was more than anger in him, she sensed bitterness, heart-wrenching disappointment. She would have liked to know what and who had made him the man he was today. That wish was entirely unwelcome, naturally. It would have been much easier to nurture her contorted childhood memories, to hate him as the bully of her school days. Cora noticed now, for the first time, that she had no idea at all who Snape was because she didn't know what drove him. Not that she wanted to get to know him, of course not. But her hatred for him felt a little empty.

~o~

For the past year, nightmares had been Severus' constant companions. After twenty years of rigorous and debilitating occlumency, now that he could allow himself a certain relaxation, his mind had snapped. He had been fighting it at first, returning to the strict regimen of his double spy days but it had taken its toll on his still venom-weakened body. Finally, he had allowed his mind a brief reprieve from the ritualised closure. At night, he allowed himself to be vulnerable. However uncomfortable he was with this solution, it was the only way to prevent slip-ups in broad daylight. And if there was one thing he meant to prevent at all cost, it was giving Thorne another look into his mind. Or anyone else, for that matter.

At night, in his four-poster, all alone in his dungeon quarters, Severus relived his worst days again and again. From sad childhood memories to those school days he'd much rather forget to that one day that had turned out to be the beginning of a new life. His mind, raw and overstrained, didn't spare him the gruesome details. Again and again, he woke up tear-stained, the pain in his chest so hot and terrible as if it all had just happened. His nights were restless and soon enough, his already bad mood deteriorated completely. He needed deep, dreamless sleep to recover, to give his body and mind some rest or he would take out his anger on his students and Severus knew McGonagall would be true to her word. He needed the placement at Hogwarts, not only because he had nothing else, but also because this was the only place where he could at least try to get back at Thorne.

Incidentally, the potion that would give him dreamless sleep required some rare ingredients. He had already started stocking up his own supply. There was something, however, only Thorne could give him, he thought gleefully. It served her right, considering that she still guarded her supplies like a sphinx.

Severus walked up the stairs to her office feeling rather cheerful. His request would elicit an aggressive response, he was certain. Yet, she couldn't refuse him. She would have to give him what he needed, however reluctantly, nolens volens.

The door to her classroom was open. She stood with her back towards him, oblivious to his presence, her amethyst robe swaying with every movement, her hat next to her on the table. She was bent over slightly, apparently occupied with slicing tubeworms into very even slices. She still hadn't noticed him. A fine auror, she must have made, with senses like this. Teaching had been a prudent career choice. Her aunt would have received her in bits and pieces at some point.

"I advise you against attacking me from the rear." There was a hint of amusement in her voice but she was still slicing worms with calm fingers.

Severus was slightly disappointed.

"And why would I attack you?"

"You stood in the doorway quietly for a suspiciously long time. And as I know you haven't been admiring my form from behind," now she turned around, smirking, and wiped her hands on her robe, leaving dark stains on the silk that disappeared within seconds, "that leaves me with one option only."

"A remarkably fatuous deduction," Snape replied, his voice cold and smooth.

"What did you come here for then? Tea and biscuits?"

"Astoundingly funny, as always," he sneered, "forgive me my straight face."

"Nothing to forgive, Snape. I know your sense of humour has been buried along with your benevolence."

"I would suggest you relinquish talking about things you don't understand but of course that would be too much of a restriction." he replied smoothly and stepped into the classroom. Then he closed the door. She straightened right away. He loved to see her react to his presence like this. It was his petty revenge, only that a thousand times wouldn't make up for what she had done to him.

"Have you come only to insult me or will you surprise me?" she asked. Potion making had given her a slightly deranged look. He took in the sight of her: hair undone, a tangled mass of curls flowing down her back, cheeks flushed, her eyes fixed on him, her hand close to her pocket. She'd never make it in time. Alas, the headmistress wouldn't be too pleased if he killed her Potions teacher only a few weeks into term.

Snape's lips curled into a derisive smile. "I need nightshade oil."

Cora knew that she couldn't refuse his request, not after the rather unpleasant conversation she had had with the Headmistress the other day. But that didn't mean she couldn't play a little.

Severus noticed that the moment he told her he needed something from her, she cheered up. Thorne turned around and added the evenly sliced worms to the simmering concoction, then stirred regularly until the potion turned a deep emerald green. She was brewing a serenity solution. For herself? Did he upset her so much? Snape stood behind her, waiting silently.

Cora had turned back to her cauldron to hide her thoughts from him. Nightshade oil was the only ingredient of a dreamless sleep drought with restricted availability. He wanted to sleep without dreaming and it didn't surprise her much. The things he must have seen… She tried very hard not to think about the nightmares he might have. This was the man that had bullied her from first grade to seventh. The man that had made her school years hell. Had Snape not seized every chance to make fun of her, her famous mother, her mediocre potions skills, her family name and sorting? She couldn't afford to think of him as someone who had to fight his own demons. Perhaps, she'd find it harder to hate him then and she was very determined to continue doing so.

Cora turned back around and smiled at him. "Trouble sleeping?"

"That is none of your business."

Snape hated the unnerving smile. He wanted nothing as much as wiping it off her smug face. But he remembered McGonagall's warning although it took a lot of self-restraint not to jinx her.

"Oh, but it is. I am now the mistress of the supply closet. I have to make sure that the ingredients that are taken are used responsibly. And nightshade oil is needed for a wide variety of potions, some of them dangerous. It's also used for scenting soap, but that is out of the question, I think." She knew she was being petty but that was all she had left. And it was rather enjoyable.

"A jarringly incomplete recital of the uses of nightshade oil but unfortunately, I am no longer allowed to educate you." Snape's voice was ice, as always.

"Well, you should have tried educating me when you had the chance." Cora took a key out of her pocket. She could only drag this out for so long, after all.

"A futile effort. I might as well have told a Mandrake not to scream," he retorted.

"I'm relieved to know that at least, it was as terrible for you as it was for me. Now, nightshade oil, was it?"

She walked over to the closet and put her hand on the door, then tapped her wand against the lock and whispered something inaudible. Three charms for a closet.

She then put a phial on a pupil's desk, careful to keep her distance from him. "You're welcome."

Was she so appalled by him that she didn't even want to touch him?

He nodded curtly.

"The Headmistress was very straightforward concerning our...dispute. Another misstep and you might find your actions have put not only my life at stake but your career, too."

"Well, I am clearly innocent. I didn't start this dispute." She put her hands on her hips as she did so, gathering her robes there and revealing the shape of her body underneath, a sight Severus didn't dignify with even the most furtive of glances.

She was unbelievable. Now he knew why he had been forced to treat her that harshly during her school days. And all for naught, it seemed. She hadn't learned anything at all.

"You imprisoned me," he forced out, his teeth clenched, his hand on his wand.

"I saved your life and nursed you back to health. I think that's what people call caring."

He snorted. A giant in an apron was more caring than her.

"You were exerting your petty revenge like a girl playing with dolls." He still remembered the powerlessness keenly.

"That considered, you had remarkable problems leaving the dollhouse."

That triumphant little smile of hers...his wand hand itched to wipe it off her face.

"Because you kept me drugged and subdued," he managed with immense self-restraint. She furrowed her brow in reply, looking almost indignant.

"I only gave you Veritaserum. The rest you did to yourself by getting killed."

Was that true? Had she not drugged him? Had that been only the snake's poison, lingering in his body?

"One could think I had asked you to save my life," he spat out, changing the topic into a direction he felt more secure with.

"There was no need. I did it out of pure goodwill." Again, she gave him a smile.

"Yes. Potter himself couldn't have been more selfless." Gryffindors. Arrogant, narcissistic bigheads, all of them, always so ready to see themselves as heroes.

"It is nice to finally be appreciated."

Her potion stood forgotten, she was completely focused on him. Cora did not trust Snape, not even after McGonagall had assured her he wouldn't dare raise his wand against her here. He was resentful, and she completely understood. Ten years had passed since she had last been in one of his classes, yet, the resentment hadn't abated.

"You should have made an effort at school, if appreciation is so important to you," he said venomously. How dared he – she had worked until midnight, later most nights, to finish his impossible tasks. She had been the best in his class from her fourth year onward, yet, he had never once acknowledged her passion and talent for potion making. She had sacrificed her freetime, budding friendships, all recreational activities to live up to her mother's memory, to be good enough to become an auror. And he had mocked her for that, too...

"Your precious advice comes more than ten years too late," she replied, careful to match his tone exactly.

There was the usual storm in her eyes and to his surprise, he found he was enjoying fighting with her as he had enjoyed nothing else in the past year. She was a welcome target for all the rage and anger that had built up inside him. Snape felt as if she was enjoying herself too, probably because she liked to seize every chance to try and degrade him. And didn't he have a lifetime to pay her back in kind – or as long as she'd last?

He took the phial. "I'll see you at dinner." It sounded like a threat.

She stood there, silent, her head slightly inclined, her eyes on him until he left her classroom.

Severus had feared that Hogwarts would prove dull, now that Dumbledore was gone and he had no task but teaching. It seems he didn't have to worry. Thorne would prove a distraction.