Notes from the author: Okay, so this got longer than I expected. Btw be warned that some creepy themes regarding Snape's obsession about Lily will be appearing (not "in that way" creepy though).
For most the 16th of October was just another ordinary Wednesday. Mr. Borgin, however, was hoping to make it a great day for his business. He was, therefore, in a rather unusual, pleasant mood, which manifested in him not being as hasty in his movements as if some kind of demon was nipping on his heels. He came to work early and prepared the products he was expecting to sell later, packing them into neat, black boxes with labels that named the contents rather than the supposed receivers. Out of those two possibilities, the latter was significantly more embarrassing, not to say – often dangerous, and he believed that his customers, or guests, as he'd sometimes refer to them in a humble tone when trying to convince them to spend more "his guests", had nothing to be ashamed of. Sure, they'd oftentimes show interest in the most threatening of his goods, the ones that were strongly connected with dark magic, death, malady and the wizards and witches the world would rather forget about, but he personally believed that no great magic had ever been benevolent, and vice versa and his shop truly represented that belief.
Having organised the items, he sat by his desk in the back of the main room and started doing his paperwork, counting the money with utmost precision and dedication bordering on lust towards the shiny coins leaping between his bony, contorted fingers. Every now and then he would raise his eyes from upon the heaps of documents and cash to take a look at the antique long-case clock on his left and then at the door, awaiting the time when someone would finally enter.
When the glass-panelled door finally opened, a tall man dressed in all-black robes entered. Aware that even when it was the vendor who sought the client not the other way round as in this instance, it was a malpractice not to let them wander around the exhibition space and take a look at all of the artefacts of dubious origin laying in their display cases. Of course, the best approach varied according to the type of the customer. But this one? Oh... he knew this one.
That man had it long time coming before he would visit old Borgin again. Although this time it was under notably different circumstances, he still remained the same in terms of character. Always determined to inspect every little thing in the shop, yet never intending to spend a penny above what he himself had decided, demanding and abrupt in his disposition when he actually had to interact with the owner. Not as difficult a customer, however, as the second man he was to see today, hopefully no sooner than in an hour or so. But for now, the shopkeeper could not afford to preoccupy himself with what was to come, but in turn needed to focus on his black-loving guest's order as he was already advancing towards his desk, which also doubled as a counter for all of the transactions.
- Good morning, Mr. Snape – Borgin addressed him, seeing no reason to remind the man of his title at Hogwarts, since it was unlikely that it was a professional issue that brought him here.
Whenever a teacher from that school would come inside, it usually meant a huge profit for the shop but it definitely wasn't profitable to show any interest in the purpose of their purchases. Therefore he was not offended when the young man responded to his greeting with cold:
- Morning. You know what I came for.
With that being said and acknowledged, the shopkeeper disappeared into the storage to retrieve the prepared items. In the moment of his departure, the door opened again with a creak and through it came another tall, long-haired wizard, who as well had an appointment fixed with the owner earlier and his neatly packed order waiting for him on one of the shabby shelves of the stockroom.
Neither Borgin nor Severus needed to look over their shoulders to guess the identity of the second client. The gloomy professor easily recognised that distinctive sound of a cane knocking against the floor, resembling the walk of some triple-legged creature and it filled him with irritation and spite instead of unease. By contrast the shopkeeper suddenly lost all his joy from the morning when he realised that the two men's arrivals had collided. He considered discretion to be golden rule of trade and therefore preferred to deal with customers without witnesses. For that reason he had desperately wanted to keep his, most of the time more or less scheduled, guests from running into each other in his place of business. Sadly in some cases he had no way of ensuring they'd come at different times without raising their suspicions with such fiddling.
When he came back, carrying two packages at once, his actions had regained their typical nervousness. It seemed, however, that the two men had even chosen to engage in a conversation, exchanging pleasantries before his arrival back at the counter. Or rather - unpleasantries, as he figured from the expression on the face of Lucius Malfoy.
Snape, it turned out, had decided to repay the older wizard for his semi-friendly intrusiveness the last time they saw each other, over a month ago at the station, by asking him a dreadful question, inquiring what had brought him here. The blonde stared him down for a while before answering:
- Nothing that would concern your honourable soul, Severus.
In that manner he sarcastically alluded to the fact that they were ultimately in similar positions, both making deals in this disreputable hole of a shop, but he at least was known to be an active practitioner of Dark Magic, unlike the aspiring pedagogue in front of him. He did not, however, manage to intimidate the professor into dropping the topic. The dark-haired wizard had a mission to fulfil and could not let Lucius think even for a second that there was nothing malicious about his visit here, otherwise people he would rather his aims remained a mystery to could have been notified. Besides, he admittedly enjoyed pestering him and, judging from experience, the feeling was reciprocated.
- Oh, is that so? I doubt either of your statements is accurate, Lucius, but I would not dare to ruin your narrative.
The skittish old man observed them talking with a dose of apprehension as he approached and greeted Mr. Malfoy. He then took the silver and golden coins from the wizards, and respectively handed each of them his package. Before he could prevent it he saw Snape reading the label on the box of his second client, who evidently wanted to conceal it and failed to do so. Despite his firm conviction that one should never be ashamed of their purchases from his shop, he instinctively jerked back a little, correctly predicting what was about to happen.
- You are trying a different branch of magic, it seems – the words that earned Severus a stab to his foot with the silver point of Malfoy's cane were preceded by his confident smirk and followed by a silent scowl of pain.
- And you are trying to get on my nerves, it seems. Goodbye – Lucius retorted as he turned on his heel and in fast, yet gracious steps took his leave and exited the shop, promising himself to never cross its threshold again. He simply could not afford to be exposed like that, not with all the damage a single phrase could cause, was it to get through to Narcissa. "I will have to find another way. It was convenient while it lasted, though at any rate it was only a matter of time before I would meet a familiar face in there. But why did it have to be Sev out of all people? That prying scrag could never keep his nose out of other people's business... Why him?". Plagued by worry, he returned to the Manor and spend the rest of the day locked in his study, revelling in solitude and preparing for tomorrow's occasion.
"Why him?" Snape wondered, waking up from yet another nightmare after he managed to fall back asleep having scolded the brats partying in the adjoining room. "Out of all people, I could not imagine one more frightening and less bothersome?".
In the dream, however, his blond friend did manage to be rather horrifying, with the hollow face as if from starvation, and glistening bloodshot eyes, shouting out the Killing Curse with his wand aimed straight at the young Potter. Severus's brain clearly enjoyed painting the expression of fear on the face so similar to the one he despised, since he remembered it with great detail. Yet even though he reminded him of that man, the sight itself evoke only his pity. He was aware he was dreaming, this time. After so much practice with horrible night visions, he had developed a skill of recognising what belonged to which reality, although on those rare occasions he was not able to and couldn't wake himself up, his mind would obligingly create some way to die, so that he could return to the actual land of living. "Come to think of it, over the years I have passed away far too many times for someone who is still alive" he mocked his own predicament. "Maybe I'm just fixated on the concept, like the muggle books on psychology would undoubtedly say" he snickered, albeit without joy.
- Well, at least it's nothing a potion couldn't cure – he mumbled, getting up from the bed.
He always considered a walk through the empty corridors of the castle in the night calming, if not sleep-inducing, and soon left the chamber, heading to the Tapestry Corridor. Upon passing the Slytherin Common Room he stopped for a while to listen intently for any signs that the premature and unauthorised celebration of Hallowe'en was still ongoing, but he heard nothing. Well, they had been scolded adequately, that was undisputable; maybe too strongly even, but he did not have the habit on sparing misbehaving little scoundrels the stress of being yelled at.
He strolled through the uninviting aisles of the dungeon until he reached the stairs and then climbed all the way to the first floor. The moon shone brightly through the high windows, which every now and then were being knocked on by the fallen leaves carried by the wind raging outside. He made the trip upstairs only to take a few small vials from his storehouse. When he entered and opened his double-secured cabinet inside, he chose the bottles containing the dark, violet liquid and put them in his pocket. The Draught, always coming in handy in the fight against his insomnia.
Due to numerous futile tries to defeat the condition for good, over the years he was forced to switch to more and more potent versions, forsaking the simple potion for dreamless sleep a long time ago. Sometimes, tired of spending time on trying to improve the basic recipe over and over again, he would simply resolve to taking five times the necessary intake, therefore he was used to running through the reserves pretty fast. Now he needed to replenish his private stocks, especially considering that the upcoming weeks, with the spectre of the Dark Lord's possible return looming over them would definitely call for medicinal support if he wanted to sleep at all. While collecting the vials, his gaze rested upon another one, containing the extremely powerful Veritaserum he had prepared not that long ago, using the ingredients he had bought at Borgin&Burkes. He regretted deeply that Albus would not give him his permission to put it to good use in interrogating Quirell. As happened more often than he felt comfortable acknowledging, he was completely unable to understand his reasoning and had to blindly trust that the old man was right. "He tells me so little and expects so much in return." he sighed on his way back to the dungeons.
The headmaster's logic truly escaped his own cognitive ability on numerous occasions and he did have confidence in the latter, while for the first, he was left only with hope and, at best, conviction, based more on emotions than practice, arguably, and therefore was never happy with that state of things. Take his decision about young Potter – why bother putting the boy under the care of his almost estranged family, exposing him to risks obvious to Severus, despite his limited knowledge about the adult version of Petunia, when the kid had a perfectly fine, although more distant, family in the wizarding world? Aneira was not maybe the most fit to raise a child, especially back then, but Lily's dreadful sister could not have been either. Not to mention the families he could have, given his fame, from the good-natured Weasleys to proud Malfoys, all those who had kids his age and even others, would surely offer to take care of the, in his opinion rather undeservingly, celebrated child.
The only thing standing between Potters' boy and an at least semi-happy childhood was Dumbledore's decision to keep him as far away from the magical world as possible, at least until he would reach the age to attend the school, of course. Snape's impression was that the scheme not only did not work out as intended, adding uncalled for mysteriousness to the boy's already far too eventful life and thus peaking the interest of every wizard and witch, who knew his name and origin, but did not (yet) know where he had spent the last eleven years and upon meeting him had the perfect chance to find out, it also caused damage to the youngling.
He, as a professor, had a perhaps not too humane but a very effective method of disciplining students, which was swatting the brats' heads or fingers with whatever he had on hand. Otherwise always calm and composed, one could almost say he indulged in those fiery reactions to insubordination. He did not, however, ever intend to actually cause harm to the children and for that reason was seriously distraught upon noticing how Potter would automatically flinch away from the hit. The only other kid in the class who had that, oh-so-telling instinct to dodge whatever object was swinging his way held firmly in Snape's grasp, was the young Malfoy, but aware of his father's habits concerning the use of his cane, he had expected that, which is not to say he did not find it disturbing. Potter, on the other hand, not only would cower, but also seemed taken aback that his Potions' Master's blow was never painful. That spoke for itself. And yet it did not convince Albus, when he tried to bring it to his attention after the last staff meeting. In fact, the old man essentially jeered him along with his concerns, pointing out that they sounded hypocritical coming from him - "a known supporter of outdated methods of maintaining order in the classroom" and "not a big admirer of misbehaved Potters".
The Draught, a whole vial of which he drank when returned to his chamber and unpacked the others into a mahogany cabinet that hung over the wall of his bedroom, finally started working and his thoughts became more and more sluggish with each minute as drowsiness overpowered him. His misgivings towards his "dearest friend and patron" slowly faded out leaving him with long anticipated nothingness, devoid of imaginations of any kind.
The days until the All Hallows' Evening went by so quickly, Elena barely noticed. It was somewhat justified, considering the amount of things she was involved in. Between studying to be the best, second best (or, as it was the case with Flying, third worst, student in her class) to the displeasure of both the muggle-hating part of her House and the ambitious part of Ravenclaw, she also had to spend her time figuring out new ways to outsmart Filch and Snape so that she could sometimes spend her evenings in the Ravenclaw Common Room, visiting Hagrid's hut to receive his help with healing Superstes' severely infected wound and of course, spending hours on hours on end on studying, she had little time to worry about the bullying which sadly, still persisted.
She did not have much trouble with finding friends outside her House, surprisingly, but her housemates were, from her point of view, split into two, equally disagreeable groups – the ones that would blatantly harass her and work to make her life harder and the ones that were merely ignoring that injustice and would occasionally talk to her in a friendly manner, only to laugh at her on the very next break, most likely behind her back. The second group she would call – the Two-Headed Snakes. Two things came to her from Slytherin – hate (mostly conveyed as insults, which one could get used to, as she was forced to realize) and the lack understanding and therefore – the sense of belonging, which all the others seemed to have acquired.
Therefore she did not feel much loyalty towards her House and was planning on secretly cheering on the Gryffindor in their upcoming match in two weeks, although now he was focused on the one happening the next Saturday, to which she would be dragged against her will by Felicia and Adalie alike had she not finally promised them to come. She was not a huge sports fan for sure, but it was a crucial part of the social life of school, it turned out, and even in her first year she had no chance of escaping it. Regarding her socializing, she was indeed doing fine, having her Ravenclaw classmates Mandy and Sue, the Gryffindor trio and of course Ada's little gang of friends. She was also additionally cared for under the wings of her cousin's Hufflepuff friend acting like the metaphorical mother hen and checking up on her at least once a week throughout the whole first year, which was to come in handy later on.
She snuck into the Ravenclaw Common Room regularly, having cracked the riddle that served as their password before the end of her second day at the school. "El" was welcome there by the fourth years and by the newly chosen Prefect, a tall, skinny, brown-haired boy in glasses named Michael, who Adalie recently began going out with (which was, actually, one upon the countless, often less gossipy and more scientific topics they were all speaking about inside the Ravenclaw Tower), so any Ravens who would normally object to such an act of rule-breaking kept their quiet. In fact, she had less problems convincing the legit residents of it not to tell on her than she had trying to persuade fellow Slytherins to share the password to her actual Common Room. Her own prefect was a dear friend of the blonde girl named Joan, who attacked her on the train on her first day, which did not help her case. Although, each time she struggled to do that, she either would receive it from one of the Two-Headed Snakes such as Tracey or even Draco, when he deemed her situation pitiful enough, or on the mysterious small pieces of paper with minuscule letters written in black, disappearing ink, and that issue would continue long after her first months at Hogwarts.
Academically she really was just on the heels of Hermione, alongside whom she spent a lot of time in the library. She had a hard deciding whether it was Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology or Potions that was her favourite subjects, but having checked how different people reacted to each of those statements, she simply shuffled her opinions depending on the interlocutor. Most of the time that technique was proving useful, not only regarding this particular matter but in general in juggling the various areas of her interests and social life.
Overall, she had less problems in adjusting to her new magical existence than she had anticipated and found that Hogwarts did, as a matter of fact, resemble a perfectly usual muggle boarding-school, with the occasional exception of jinxes being cast or things mysteriously catching fire and exploding.
Only after coming to the school did she realize how often both she and other students would lose command of their magic along with their temper and therefore finally connected the dots regarding a few events from her own past, such as that time a boy named Jacob, the only person from before who ever tried to pester her, in primary school broke his leg slipping on ice, that somehow made its way inside. It was winter back then indeed, so it did not raise anyone's suspicions. But that time she made Adalie's other cat unable to move when he tried to attack Ruffles when he was a pup? Auntie Aneira must have realised back then - it hit her as she promised to herself to ask her kin about such occurrences at the earliest opportunity. Nevertheless now she not only was a lot more attentive to any manifestations of witchcraft, she also had considerably more control over her own accidental magic, or so it looked like.
On that morning, of Hallowe'en, in Charms class she actually had the chance to prove herself in one of her most cherished subjects, which resulted in her being one of the four students who managed to master the levitating spell on their first lesson about it. "I have Natasha to thank for that" it crossed her mind, when she grinned gleefully upon hearing Hermione say to Ron, pointing to Elena:
- You see? That's how it's done.
The Gryffindor smart aleck was not the only one who appreciated her performance, as professor Flitwick declared her the best in their group, along with the other curly-haired girl herself. That, in turn, earned her the attention of her housemate, Malfoy, who, not having succeeded at making the feather levitate himself, decided to ask for her help in learning the incantation during the study period n the afternoon, or rather – to request it. She agreed, gaining accusatory glares from both Harry and the Weasley.
She did not witness, however, the fight that occurred during that break between the clever girl and her big-mouthed ginger housemate, she only heard about it later from the girls in the bathroom, laughing at the know-it-all's misery. She waited for them to leave before she knocked timidly on the door to the only locked stall.
- Hermione? Are you okay? – she asked quietly.
- I'm fine – the girl answered surprisingly curtly.
- It's me, El. What happened?
- Nothing. I said I'm fine – the girl repeated irritably.
- Okay then. If you change your mind, I'll be in the study hall – she gave up, preparing to leave, when she was stopped by an unexpected question.
- With who? – the voice from inside the stall inquired, starting to get on Elena's nerves.
- With Draco. He wanted me to help him with Charms after today's class. Why are you asking?
- With Draco, huh? Doesn't it bother you, what he says about muggles?
- He doesn't when I'm around. And I know he can be irritating but he's rich and his dad is powerful, so he's useful. And I have to have someone on my side in the House anyways, and he's the only one I can stand apart from Tracey. But she's not as respected by the other Snakes...
- You sound like you're talking about objects, not people – Hermione noticed. – Do you speak of us the same way? "She's annoying but she's smart, so she can help me." – she asked, her voice becoming shaky at the end.
- I actually like you, so it's different. And I wanted to check on you, not be attacked – the Slytherin responded, struggling not to lose her temper - I've got enough of that in my House, for real.
- You say like me, but you wouldn't even defend me when you heard Pansy joke about me! – the accusation flew from behind the green door – You're more loyal to them than to us, even though they hate you! The boys were right not to trust you! And how are you speaking so calmly now? You're like a silver-tongued snake!
- I didn't do that because I know better than to jump straight into the lion's den like a dim-witted Gryffindor! Maybe I'm a snake, maybe you're right, but at least I'm not the one crying in the bathroom over some idiotic comment! – she finally managed to provoke an outburst of anger in Elena, who with those words left her alone to her sobbing, slamming the door to the girls' bathroom on her way out.
She returned to the Study Hall to join Malfoy and his goons in learning, or, in the case of Crabbe and Goyle, proving that they weren't born for an academic career. Despite herself, she was being as sweet as possible, even when they were wasting her precious time, demanding explanations of each step of charm-casting and serving back-handed compliments in return. "You're very talented, for a muggle." – Draco told her, only to try to talk her into doing his homework for him, instead of only providing hints as she insisted on doing. Clenching her fist under the table she fought hard not to at least kick him for that but she had sworn to herself, upon leaving that damned bathroom Merlin knows what tempted her to go to in the first place, that she would not say a word to any of her Gryffindor mates and that she would assure them in their poor judgment, only to find some way for them to pay for it later, so now she had to grit her teeth and try her best to truly get on with the Slytherins. "And who knows, it could actually pay off later" she still thought so, even though Hermione seemed to find that approach of hers cynical.
When, a few hours later, during the amazing feast that was served for their dinner, professor Quirell ran into the Great Hall and yelled out his warning, she was amongst the few who abstained from panicking. Standing with the Slytherins, she automatically nudged Draco to stop embarrassing himself by squealing. And after headmaster Dumbledore ordered them to leave, lead by their Prefects, she noticed the two Gryffindors running to the bathroom. Their black-skinned friend was nowhere to be seen.
"HERMIONE!" the name lit in her brain in neon red letters.
- What? – Malfoy asked pugnaciously, seeing the expression of fear painting on her face – I thought you weren't scared at all?
- I'm not – she replied and without waiting another second on pointless conversations took off after the boys as fast as she could. She managed to lose consciousness halfway through the distance and miraculously wasn't found by the troll, lying on the cold hard floor of the corridor. She regained it not long after, her first awake thought being "Gosh, I'll have to ask mum to buy me some more medicine. This can't keep happening all the time!". On the other hand, telling mum how often she was blacking out would doubtless send her into a spiral of worry, so Elena would have to find a way not to trigger her with that information. But that was a problem for later, she concluded, upon hearing footsteps approaching. She hid behind a column and the two teachers, absorbed by the noises that were coming from the bathroom, did not pay the least bit of attention to her. "Hermione!" the neon sign re-appeared when she heard a shriek and she followed them quickly, though this time more careful not to strain herself.
Severus Snape had just returned from the third floor, but even when limping his walking pace was rapid enough to see McGonagall's emerald robe as her and Albus disappeared behind the corner, heading to the west wing. On his way to there he noticed movement in a wall recess and immediately stopped in place. At first expecting some other creature that could have been unleashed into the halls, he was relieved to realise it was a short, black-clothed human. "A student. Well of course someone's trying to get themselves killed and imagining they are so sly they managed to hide from the professors. Probably a Gryffindor." he cavilled in his mind.
- Reveal yourself at once! – he gnarled with ire, turning towards the small shape cowering in the shadows.
The doll-faced little girl that emerged from the darkness seemed as shocked to have been caught as he was to recognize her. Her differently coloured eyes which had caught his attention earlier glistened with apprehension.
- Castel! What do you think you're doing here? Go back to the Common Room, immediately – he said in harsh barks, although without raising his voice.
She figured it would be best to treat that as a rhetorical question as the answer was rather incriminating for her and she wasn't sure she would be able to make up a convincing lie for her excuse on the spot. Therefore she just did as ordered without saying a word.
On her way back to the dungeon she struggled to abstain from looking back, but didn't succeed to do so and broke her resolution twice, each time encountering the stern gaze of her Potions' Master.
"I will deal with you later." he added to himself waiting for her to finally leave the corridor with growing irritation before he hurried to join the others.
Upon arriving to her Common Room, trying her best not to look defeated, she got swarmed with people hungry for news. Just as she had foreseen, she had to face the questions of her housemates who suddenly en masse decided that she was worth talking to only because she was the one who could shed some light on the "troll situation". Or so they hoped.
- Did you see it?
- Why did you even go there?
- Did it attack you?
She was flooded with questions.
"Well, it's my moment to shine, isn't it?" she thought, trying to come up with a convincing fable that could shut them all up, while earning her the points of fame and friendship from Slytherins she so desperately needed. It was hard to concentrate with all the voices shouting over her, not counting the one in her head telling her that Hermione could be lying dead and cold on the bathroom's floor in this very second.
After she finally pulled herself together and with began giving her answers, they were barely audible in the ruckus all around her, so an unforeseen ally had to come to her aid:
- Shut up, everyone! She'll tell you everything, but you have to listen, not yell at each other! – Draco's high-pitched tone easily got them the control over the room and it fell silent.
- Now you can tell us – he took a sit on the dark green couch which was freed up for the two of them and fixed his cool greyish eyes on Elena's face, waiting for her to speak.
"He wouldn't be himself if he didn't end up bossing me around at the end" she noted internally.
Outwardly however, she smiled at him kindly and started telling her story:
- So, I saw the two Gryffindor boys running somewhere and went after them – she forgot to mention that she blacked out shortly after, but that was an unimportant detail – Cause I wanted to see what those idiots were up to – she added to the joy of her public – And in the corridor I saw the troll coming out of the dungeon. It was huge, sluggish and carried a weapon of some sorts – "or so I suppose a troll would" – It didn't notice me, because I hid behind a column. Then I heard screaming in the west wing... – there the lie finished, the rest was sincere truth, although the lack of emotions on her face did not reflect that – and shortly after, before I even reached it myself, I saw the professors running towards, I think, the girls' bathroom and Snape caught me.
- Uuuu... – a grunt of disapproval mixed with sympathy swept across the room.
- He was limping, so perhaps there was more than one troll and he had fought it already – she took a wild guess, which was met with endorsement, cause after all the vulture-like man was one of their own – And I don't know, I guess I might get in trouble, but definitely not in worse than the Gryffons, so that's great.
Since that was the end of her riveting story-telling debut, the Snakes, satisfied with the account and with newly developed respect for the muggle-born petite investigator that Elena was. Her blond friend, however, did not leave her side and, failing miserably to feign indifference, demanded to be told more. He was especially fixated on the identity of the Gryffindors, whose faces he wasn't able to see when they were leaving the Great Hall, so she elaborated:
- Well, yes it was Potter and Weasley. I suppose their girl-friend was with them too – she invented another falsehood, the name she called Hermione tasting bitterly on her tongue.
Draco, she noticed, seemed concerned, but he soon collected himself when his goons approached and thanked her for the information adding, with a smirk:
- I wouldn't be surprised if they all got smashed to pieces by that troll.
- Oh yeah, me neither. They sorta deserve it for being dumb enough to be found by it – she returned the ironic smile of silent understanding; more of it than either of them was aware of at that moment.
As Elena would later recall – that was the very day all sorts of problems at Hogwarts started for her.
The next morning their first and only period, as every Friday, was the double Potions. Elena might have spent the last evening trying to discretely find out what happened in the 1st floor bathroom and ensure that the whole trio was okay, but she still wasn't speaking to Hermione, so she ostentatiously didn't greet her on the way to her seat in the back of the class as she usually would. The curly haired know-it-all had clearly worked things out with the two boys she loved the company of so much and now they were all laughing in the first row. Neville was the only one of the Gryffons she knew well who decided to say hi, but his timing was somewhat flawed since in that exact moment Malfoy decided to approach her, putting his hand on her nape and therefore she completely ignored the fall guy and focused on her new blond friend.
The lesson went by as usual. Snape, to her relief, did not seem mad at her the least bit and she even got five points for her house for reminding the class what the main ingredients of the Antidote to Common Poisons were. She remained in that state of blissful ignorance until the lesson ended, when, after dismissing them, the professor's bitter voice stopped her just when she was about to leave the laboratory:
- Castel, not so fast. I need to talk to you.
Halted in her steps, she took the position beside his desk by his desk, fighting with herself not to keep nervously biting her lip. Meanwhile he took a seat so that his eyes were on approximately the same level as hers and patiently waited for everyone to leave before he began to speak.
- Ms. Castel, I hope that you are aware of the enormous danger you had put yourself into yesterday. And of the stupidity of your actions – he paused, waiting for confirmation until she nodded remorsefully - But in case you have not yet grasped the severity of the situation, you will have plenty of time to contemplate that during the four hours of detention I am hereby assigning you.
- So... I won't get house points taken? – she lost control of herself and asked naively, struck by surprise.
Severus was well aware that he could not punish her with negative points, less he really wanted to see the girl clawed by the more savage of older Slytherins. And, with shock, he realised he did not. As a matter of fact, he felt a strange sense of protectiveness over this brat from the very beginning, when he volunteered to transport her from the Great Hall, lifting her weightless inert body off the ground without being asked to do so and thus earning a quizzing look from Albus. That strange sentiment only grew overtime, though it would be hard to notice, considering his rough demeanour and the favouritism he treated all the students from his house with.
He did, however, write those cards instructing the girl how to find and in the following weeks - enter her Common Room, correctly convinced she would struggle to befriend the prefects, both known to be children of pureblood supremacists he knew from his years at Hogwarts. With her inquisitiveness, evident during Potions classes and now further proven by her perilous stunt, he was surprised she had not yet figured out that was his handwriting. Well, at least soon, it seemed, he would be released from that obligation he had imposed on himself, since she was starting to befriend the Malfoy's son. Not the best choice of company for a muggle-born perhaps, but he did wish her luck, once again astoundingly to his own mind.
Had his emotionalism, paralleled only with the exhausting mix of hatred and paternal affection he held for his lost love's son, anything to do with how much she resembled an offspring one could imagine him having with Lily, had their fate turned out differently?
The complexion, as freakishly pale as his own, speckled with freckles like hers. His hair colour, her hair structure; well, maybe slightly curlier. Even her nose looked like Lily's. But the main thing that was throwing him off each time she was raising her hand in class, differing from fellow students in that she always held eye-contact while saying her answer, was the combination between her voice and the eyes. Never shifty nor hiding behind the black eyelashes out of shyness, fixed on the interlocutor's face challengingly, even in this moment when she was expecting the rest of the reprimand with a grin to complement their confident gaze, despite the barely observable nervous twitching of her lower lip.
The uncommon variant of heterochromia she had was truly captivating to anyone, sticking out prominently in the alabaster of her skin. The right iris was more prominent, black like onyx, now glistening like ice in the flickering light of the dungeon; the left one was emerald green, kinder and surrounded with seemingly darker lashes, due to the contrast. His and Lily's eyes. Their voices combined as well, somehow, with her alto, sometimes like in this very case revealing itself with emotions through the veil of the balanced tone, restrained almost, so uncommonly for her age.
"I am being ludicrous" he castigated himself. "She's very much not that, nor does she resemble her the least bit. I cannot even be certain she is related to her at all." Annoyed at the figments of his own imagination, after a pause a tad too long, he reverted to chiding her:
- If you insist they still might be. I am sure the reaction of your housemates when they get that news will be enthralling – he watched the smile being wiped off her pretty face with something akin to satisfaction - Since you have already earned yourself the reputation of quite a gossiper, I suppose you would be happy to share it with them – the corners of his mouth raised viciously, his cold black eyes prickling her skin.
She fought the redness creeping into her cheeks and took a deep breath, suddenly finding she felt weirdly calm, even the slight trembling of her fingers had stopped. The angelic smile returned on her face before she took her turn to speak.
- I don't know what you've heard professor, but I only tell riveting tales of heroes indeed – she replied, having realized that the fable she had told yesterday must have reached his ears – And no, I would rather avoid losing points indeed. So, when's the detention? I'd rather it weren't on Saturday because of the match though – she was almost excited, for it was the first punishment of that kind in her career; she hadn't even read the paragraph of school regulations regarding such sanctions, not having foreseen that she would get in trouble.
The professor deemed her response far too cocky for his own liking and therefore again had to resort to mitigating her harshly.
- In your gladness for my leniency regarding your transgression, you seem to be forgetting your place, Ms. Castel – his eyes darkened even more, with disapproval - It is not your decision to make, nor was I actually asking your opinion on the matter. You will be informed about the exact hours in two days time, by the prefect of your House. Now you are dismissed – he gestured towards the door - And if I were you I would aim to be more rule-abiding, because next time you can bet I will not be so forbearing – he added the warning, watching her leave.