"So, what's with you and this Snape guy?
Ayla, Charlie, and Bill were sitting on the benches used for Care of Magical Creatures, a plate of chicken sandwiches in front of them. Ayla hated to eat in the Great Hall. Pandora's chatter, Alex's complaints, Jungular's taunting…when added to all the noise and echo of the hall, it was enough to make her head pound. So she and Bill often took their lunch outside—sometimes by the lake, sometimes on the front steps, sometimes (when the weather was cold) to Hagrid's house (he never knew)—or to an empty classroom. Charlie sometimes went with, as he had today.
Bill had asked the aforementioned question, no doubt referring to Pandora's snide remarks about Ayla's correct answer to Snape's question. And about the looks she was getting from Alex during Care of Magical Creatures.
"Something that seems to exist only in the confused mind of Pandora Boxer," Ayla replied, taking a bite of her sandwich.
Charlie wrinkled up his face. "That girl that's always around you? The one that never seems to stop talking?"
"That's because she doesn't," she said, nodding her head. "Pandora, kind as she is to me, is the most annoying human being this side of the English Channel." She paused, flicking a fly off her sandwich. "And seems to have come up with this odd idea that I have an—er—infatuation with Professor Snape." She looked down, avoiding their eyes.
Charlie laughed. "You? Have a crush on that git?" He slapped his knee. "That's insane! That man is crueler than mom was after Fred and George 'accidentally'"—he made quote signs with his fingers—"blew up the garden!"
Ayla frowned. Git? Snape wasn't a git…he just expected a lot from his students…a bit unfairly, perhaps, but nonetheless…he wasn't cruel, at least not to her. Then again, Jungular could be nice to Penny, but Ayla would always consider him cruel. So this man did not treat all people equal, then? Hmm…
Bill did not join in with his brother's laughter. "You were looking at him all of Potions," he said slowly, a frown appearing on his normally smiling face. "And you practically flew when he praised you for answering that question right…and then you defended him, after he took twenty points from Gryffindor because Jasmine and Kent were holding hands under the table. How did he see that, anyway?" he wondered, changing subjects for a moment.
"Maybe he can see through the table," suggested Charlie, who was now holding one of the many kneazles of the forest. "He took twenty points from me because I dropped my book."
Ayla arched an eyebrow. "You dropped a book?" She stretched out on a bench, putting her hands beneath her head.
Charlie squirmed in his seat. "Into my potion…and it got all over Kaytie Lewis, and she had to go to the Hospital Wing…"
Bill snorted as Ayla shook her head. "Then you deserved the points off, Weasley. And don't complain. It could be you in the Hospital Wing right now."
Charlie looked at the ground. "Yeah, well…"
Bill looked at Ayla closely. "You do like him!"
Ayla had to concentrate very hard to keep her voice even. "What?"
"You were looking at him funny, and now you're defending him again!" he said, frowning again. "And all the girls were talking about how cute he was…"
Charlie blanched as Ayla tried not to redden as she thought of his deep eyes, his dark hair, his closely shaven face…
And suddenly found herself looking up at a very angry Bill. "How can you like that idiot!" he nearly yelled, his face flushed. "He's mean, and he's old! And he's just…Snape!"
Ayla sat up, looking him in the eye. "You've only had him once, Bill." Not enough time at all…
"One lesson was enough to prove that he's a slimy git!"
he ranted back, putting his face very close to hers. "And I don't want you liking him!"
Ayla stepped backwards over the bench, putting a bar of separation between them. "What are you going on about?" she fumed, giving him her iciest glare. "Who I like is none of your business, much less in your control."
Charlie looked from Bill to Ayla and back again. "Umm…guys?" he said hesitantly, putting a hand on his brother's arm. "Bill, she does have a point—"
"You're only saying that because you like her!" Bill snarled, shoving Charlie away. The kneazle flew out of his arms as he landed on the ground with a soft thud.
Charlie leapt on his older brother, knocking him to the ground. They rolled around on the ground, throwing punches at each other's faces.
Now, Bill was taller and heavier, but Charlie was more muscular, so neither boy seemed to have the advantage. However, they were getting a bit out of hand, and Ayla saw that they were going to roll right into the lake if they didn't stop. Not being one to waste time, she whipped out her wand and froze them with a quick, "Impedimentia!"
The boys suddenly stopped moving, Charlie on top of Bill, his fist inches above Bill's nose. After moving Charlie off of Bill, Ayla undid the spell, looking at the two of them disapprovingly.
"Honestly, you two," she began, shaking her head. "I almost wish I was a prefect so I could take points off."
"Shit!"
Severus Snape, who had been squatting, had just hit his head on one of his many bookshelves. He was looking for a book of his that he had been reading earlier in the week, but never had time to finish. Or re-finish, he should say. He had read the book at least ten times.
It was strange that he couldn't find the book, though. He didn't just misplace things—he was a very organized man. Unfortunately for him, he had taken the book all over the castle, so retracing his steps didn't seem like an option.
And now, on top of not having his favorite book, he had a splitting headache. Wonderful.
He walked over to his desk, sat in his chair, and looked over each of his class books. Every first-year class he had was the same—all scared out of their wits of the school, and his sarcasm hadn't helped to assuage their fears. It seemed, from what Minerva McGonagall had told him at dinner, (with a very disapproving look on her face) that half of the school was terrified of him.
Which was exactly what he wanted, more or less.
Teaching was not something he really wanted to do. Ever. But Albus Dumbledore had a way of making you agree to something even if you absolutely loathed it. Like teaching. And he owed Albus a favor.
A lifetime of favors.
All of his lives worth of favors.
Albus Dumbledore was the very reason Severus was sitting in his desk chair at that moment, with a splitting headache, reading his assignment books. Albus had saved Severus' life in more ways than Severus wanted to count.
Severus didn't like to have people be close to him—it only caused pain in the end. Albus was the only person that knew Severus' secrets, and that Severus considered something remotely similar to a friend. The only person still living, anyway.
At least if the students thought he was evil, they would stay away from him. He could lock himself in his rooms, read and work on his Potions all evening…
But he truly was evil. He had shared his soul with Lucifer—and enjoyed it. He had enjoyed hearing people scream as he ruthlessly murdered them, enjoyed watching them do things that they would never have done unless under magical influence, enjoyed the parties afterwards, where the air was thick with alcohol and blood, set against the backdrop of the screams of their rape victims.
And then it changed.
Then he had to force himself to kill his victims, had to take Potions so he wasn't violently sick while his comrades satisfied their twisted desires, had to suffer through blinding headaches at the galas, had to try to block out the horrified screams.
Sometimes he wished he were at the other end of the wand.
But those days were over. Now he was a Potions teacher, spending his days in a dungeon classroom, faced with the impossible task of teaching a bunch of young idiots.
And they were all idiots.
Well, Severus thought, massaging his temples, perhaps all of them were not idiots. There did appear to be one or two fine minds scattered throughout the school, but even those people lacked the drive needed to achieve their best. He had only been there one day, yes; but unless the third-year Hufflepuffs and second-year Gryffindors were all geniuses (which he highly doubted), the vast majority of the students hadn't gained any intellect since he'd last been there eight years ago.
And then there was the Landau girl, who was again different. He had noticed her immediately at the feast the night before—she must have looked up at him every other minute. He had assessed her at that moment as someone who was as ridiculously vain as every other soul in Slytherin House; someone who must be popular and ditzy, judging by the way the girl next to her was looking at her with something akin to adoration.
But he had been completely off mark. He had leaned over and asked Professor Peary, who was on his immediate left, who the girl that kept looking up at the Head Table was. Juliet immediately turned on her charms and began giggling and flirting in a way that made Severus' stomach churn even now as he thought about it.
Ignoring her blunt advances, he discovered that Ayla Landau was muggle-born, and therefore had virtually no social life within Slytherin, and throughout the school. The lack of friends obviously gave her more time to study, for she had ridiculously high marks in every class, especially Potions.
Hearing this, Severus' mind began whirling. Not only had he been completely wrong about her, she was good at Potions! And he did need an assistant to help him try and find a cure for the bout of influenza going around the village…
So after dinner, he questioned Albus about her. Albus seemed to think that she would make a fabulous assistant, but he warned Severus that she was a bit on the unconventional side, especially for a Slytherin.
"She's one of the more brilliant students in the school," he had said, "but also one of the strangest."
She was indeed unconventional, as he had discovered last night when he had found her playing her guitar and singing songs that he had grown up with. He recalled listening to Pink Floyd when he was around fifteen or sixteen. He had received Dark Side of the Moon for Christmas one year. Of course, it was a magically altered version—not many muggle albums were formatted for mages, but when a band got as large and popular as Pink Floyd, there was enough demand for a business to boom. At first the companies had charged outrages sums of money for their "Magic Records", but as demand grew and more and more places began selling these albums, the prices dropped to more competitive rates.
Pink Floyd and the Beatles. Well, she had good taste in music.
And she had really surprised him with her knowledge in muggle Potions—what had she called it, Chemistry? Muggle sciences did interest him, although he had never learned their proper names. Some of their mathematical theories were quite advanced, and the science of objects in motion—he couldn't remember the name—was fascinating.
He shook his head. What was he doing, spending so much time thinking about a student for so long? He couldn't remember the last time he had thought about anyone for that amount of time. Other than himself, obviously.
A knock at his door signaled the arrival of his object of thought. He threw the assignment books into a drawer, stood and pushed in his desk chair, and opened the door. She seemed slightly surprised to see him standing there in front of her.
"Good evening, Miss Landau," he said smoothly, stepping back to allow her to enter the room.
She nodded. "Same to you, Sir." She looked around the room. "Er…don't we need a…erm…cauldron?" she asked timidly.
"Obviously," he sneered down at her, suddenly struck by how very short she was. She appeared a bit abashed, but nodded and looked at the floor, trying to appear interested in the stone.
"We aren't working on it in here," he explained, answering her unasked question. "We will be working in my private laboratory."
She nodded, eyes still trained on the ground. She seemed to be wondering what to do, and was acting rather shyly, almost as if she was afraid of him. What a stark contrast this was to the girl he had met the night before!
"You don't have to be afraid of me, girl!" he snapped, and she jerked her head up to look at him. "I'm not going to poison you."
"I never thought you were," she replied coolly, staring him defiantly in the eye. He laughed to himself.
He nodded. "Good. Follow me." He led the way through a door at the back of the classroom into his office. She followed closely behind, her eyes gazing over the many things in jars along the walls.
She paused at one particular jar for a moment. "Amazing," she muttered, squinting at the object floating in the jar. "Is this an Erumpent horn?"
"Indeed it is, Miss Landau."
She turned around, eyebrows furrowed. "Aren't these really hard to obtain?" she asked, frowning.
He nodded. "They are. Being a professor at Hogwarts, however, gives me access to things otherwise unattainable…" He cleared his throat. "Now, before we begin, there are a few things I must make clear."
She looked at him, face rapt with attention.
"I am in charge here. I will not stand to have my authority undermined, is that clear?"
She nodded.
"Good. Do not touch anything without my permission. Do not add anything to a cauldron unless I have instructed you to or approved it."
Another nod. A small smile was playing at the corner of her lips, and Severus took offense to this just as another teacher might have taken to eye rolling.
"Miss Landau, tell me, what do you find so funny?"
"Nothing, Sir," she replied, smile disappearing, "except that you seem to think I wouldn't have the common sense to know all of the rules you're imposing." The girl's eyes widened and she put a hand to her mouth. Her nails were bitten, short stubs painted black. Her hands were quite small; Severus was sure he could have folded his over hers with ease.
To the girl's imminent relief, Severus laughed at her boldness. What a strange girl!
"I appear to have underestimated you, my dear," he chuckled lightly. "Well then! Shall we get started?"
***
Half an hour later, Snape had finished explaining the dilemma in detail, and they were hard at work trying to find a cure for the strange bout of influenza circulating around Hogsmeade.
Ayla hadn't known what to do at first—some of the equipment was more advanced than anything she had used before—but Snape had patiently explained how to use them, and she felt fairly confident about her performance.
Because she had to impress him. She just had to. Nothing seemed to have ever mattered so much before--especially when he was right behind her, his breath beating down the back of her throat, his hand over hers as he demonstrated how to use the Element Separator. No, impressing him seemed to be the priority at the moment.
He wasn't much of a talker, this Professor. They worked in silence, save the cackling of hissing cauldrons and the bubbling of magical solutions. It was a good thing the Potions Master was not one for idle chitchat, because Ayla didn't think she could say anything without her face going a deep, rich shade of red, or her voice shaking.
So on they worked, looking at the different ingredients that made up the common Flu-Fighter Draught. The owner of the Apothecary in Hogsmeade made questionable Potions, Snape had remarked idly. The first step, he had instructed, was to make certain that there was nothing faulty in the Flu-Fighter Draught being sold in Hogsmeade.
Unfortunately, the breaking down of Potions was a long and careful process, even using the Element Separator. Snape had been working on it for a week now, and all he had been able to come up with was that there was an unusual consistency to the Potion. And that he had been able to tell just by looking at it.
Three weeks after Ayla had begun working with Snape, the man suddenly snorted; startling her so much she nearly dropped the beaker of Element Separator she had been holding. Recovering her balance, she turned to look at Snape quizzically.
He passed her a beaker full of a thick, dull green solution. "What do you think this is?"
Setting down the beaker she was holding, she went over to the proffered beaker. She bent down and cautiously sniffed the mixture, frowning slightly as she did so. She picked up a spoon that was lying on the worktable and gently stirred the contents. She let go of the spoon. It stood straight up in the middle of the beaker.
She arched an eyebrow. "Judging by the citrus smell, I'd say it's a Pepper-Up Potion. A very hastily prepared Pepper-Up Potion, but one nonetheless."
"Absolutely correct, Miss Landau," he said, giving her a small smile of approval that set her heart into an irregular beating pattern. "It is, indeed, a Pepper-Up Potion. Now, can you tell me what is in a Pepper-Up Potion?"
"Water, the heart of a Boomslang plant, citrus juice—"
He cut her off with an impatient hand. "Yes, and do you know what other Potion those key ingredients are used in?"
Comprehension dawned on her. "The Flu-Fighter Draught."
"Yes," Snape said, nearly laughing. "And it seems that the maker of this specific Flu-Fighter Draught decided it would be simpler to add a Pepper-Up Potion to the other elements in the Flu-Fighter, forgetting one important fact."
"What's that?" Ayla asked, not knowing how to make a Flu-Fighter Draught.
"Flu-Fighter only uses half of the heart of a Boomslang!" Snape chuckled. "It would seem, Miss Landau, that the Potions the village of Hogsmeade is supplied with are faulty."
"So, are we finished?" asked Ayla, hoping that he would need her help in doing something else. Anything to see him after hours on a regular basis. Anything.
"Certainly not!" Snape's customary sneer returned. "Do you realize that this only furthers our work? Do you realize that we have to make hundreds of doses of proper Flu-Fighter Draught?"
Ayla groaned. "But Sir, I don't know—"
Again, he cut her off. "I will tell you how, and you will help me make all the doses needed. Do you understand?"
She nodded. Well, she thought, at least she got to spend more time around him…
"Good." His voice softened. "I've no doubt you will be able to make this with ease. You're the most promising Potions student I've seen in a long time."
Turning from him so he wouldn't see her blush, she lit a fire under her cauldron. He thought she was a good Potions student!
So they began to work. And they made Flu-Fighter Draught after Flu-Fighter Draught. The ingredients began to blend together as Ayla's mind went into autopilot: cut the Boomslang heart in half, squeeze an orange, squeeze a lemon, measure out one liter each of the orange and lemon juice…
Finally, after what seemed like days of work but was only hours, the clock struck four, and Snape pronounced them finished. She sank into one of the stiff, hard-backed chairs in the room, strangely feeling more comfortable than she ever had when sitting on her bed.
"Get up, girl!" Snape snapped, and she sprang to her feet. "Don't you think I want nothing more than to sleep for all eternity as well? We aren't done. If you weren't falling asleep on your feet, would you leave a laboratory looking like this?" He swept his arm through the air, indicating the table in front of him.
She blinked and took in the worktable. He was right; it was in disarray. Yawning, she shuffled over and began to dispose of the fruit peels, put the Boomslang skin and leftover heart–halves into a jar, and re-jarred the leftover ingredients.
He joined her in the cleaning process, and within ten minutes the lab was as spotless as it had been before either of them had begun working, save one cauldron that was working on something that Snape needed; Ayla didn't ask. This done, Ayla sat once again in a chair, closing her eyes as she slumped slightly.
Snape chuckled. "I think," he said, sliding gracefully into the chair next to hers, "that we might be able to arrange a cancellation of your classes tomorrow, hmm?"
She opened her eyes and nodded gratefully. "If you could."
They sat in silence for a while, and Ayla felt herself slowly drifting off to sleep. Her joints ached, her muscles were screaming at her, and she felt like she had taken multiple doses of Nyquil. The chair was the most comfortable thing she had ever sat on, and the soft bubbling of the lone, lit cauldron gently lulled her into a deep, peaceful sleep.
***
Severus watched the Landau girl sleep, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He envied her; he was as exhausted as she was, if not more, and yet he couldn't sleep. Not in the chair, not in his bed, not anywhere.
Still, the girl did look comfortable.
Three weeks. Three weeks the two of them had been working, only to find that all they had to do was make proper Flu-Fighter Draughts. The next time he went into Hogsmeade, he was going to have a very interesting chat with Marius Sulla, the Apothecary owner and supplier.
She was a good Potions brewer, the Landau girl. Very good. He had noticed that when she was concentrating very hard on something, her eyebrows furrowed and she bit her lip; she had done the same thing when playing her guitar.
And so attentive! He'd never seen a student that paid that much attention to him—she hung on his every word! Always compliant, never disagreeing with him, or complaining about the amount of effort the work required…
The clock suddenly struck five, and Severus sprang up from his chair. He went over and stirred the lit cauldron, feeling a smooth, fluidic consistency. Sighing with relief, he grabbed two empty bottles and filled each of them to the brim; then, setting one down on the counter, he poured half the contents of the other down his throat.
He sat down in the chair again, closing his eyes. The Sleeping Draught would kick in soon, especially with the extra half-dose he had taken. It was addictive, this potion, but he was willing to take that chance, especially on a night like tonight, when he felt as if he had been to hell and back.
Oh yes, that was right.
He had been to Hell and back.
It wasn't as though he enjoyed dwelling on his days as a Death Eater; the memories seemed to creep up uninvited and unwelcome, and they did not fade unless he drifted off to sleep, and sometimes the memories faded into vivid nightmares—the kind that made him awaken surrounded in a pool of sweat, his heart pounding uncomfortably in his chest.
So he took the Sleeping Draught, laced with an anti-nightmare concoction of his own invention. It helped him sleep and kept the nightmares away—most nights.
He looked at the sleeping girl and briefly wondered what she dreamed about. Certainly not about ruthlessly killing people, again, and again, and again. Although, given her social status at the school, she may have dreamt about the deaths of certain people—though not death by Death Eater standards.
He'd seen how most of Slytherin House treated her—a muggle-born, with odd taste and an obvious lack of desire to have friends within her dorm—and it vaguely reminded him of his own school days. Of course, he'd had it a fair bit easier, being pureblooded and under Lucius Malfoy's wing, but it hadn't been easy being so…different. His complexion and natural aptitude for Potions made him subject to many taunts from his housemates, and his somewhat exaggerated reputation for knowing and practicing the Dark Arts made him rather unpopular with the other houses.
In truth, his knowledge of the Dark Arts had been small and merely studious. He'd seen the books in his father's study; being the curious and well-read child he had been, he was unable to resist. By the time he was fourteen, however, Malfoy (by then his protector), three years older, had urged him to read and learn more. By the time he graduated, Severus wagered he knew more Dark curses than even the Defense teacher had known.
So when he was approached by the Death Eaters via Malfoy, he accepted their offer—it seemed innocuous enough. He was to be brewing Potions for the Dark Lord; didn't have to kill anyone, didn't have to receive the distinguishing mark on his forearm—he wasn't a Death Eater per say, just an accomplice of the accomplices.
By the time he was presented to the Dark Lord, he was in too deep to do anything to escape joining the ranks. And after pledging his loyalty to Voldemort, he realized that he might enjoy it all. The killing, the raping—the rush of power he felt as he screamed the deadly words: 'Avada Kedavra'.
Then, one night, after a particularly raucous party, Malfoy and Kyenth Avery found a young teenage boy—muggle—camping in the forest near the pub. They decided to have a bit of "fun" with the boy.
Severus, in all his life, would never forget the look on the boys face as he was forced into the dirt, as Malfoy pulled up his robes and forced the boy to—even now, it made him shudder.
That night had hit a little too close to home. Suddenly comparing Malfoy to his father, Severus ran from the party. And he ran and ran, not knowing where he was going. And when he looked up, he was at Hogwarts.
So at four-o-clock in the morning, still in a drunken stupor, he banged on the Headmaster's door—or, rather, he kicked the wall repeatedly—until Dumbledore heard the noise and came down to find a man he hadn't seen in nearly two years, looking as though he had been torn apart and hastily put back together.
Dumbledore drew the young man into his office and made him a cup of tea laced with a hangover Potion. And little by little drew the story out of Severus. Severus found himself confessing everything—about his father, about the Death Eaters, about the boy in the forest—and by the end of it, he was sobbing.
The old man had looked at him somberly with those great, ancient blue eyes. "Severus," he had said, "you've got yourself into a situation, haven't you?"
Dumbledore had given him an ultimatum: Turn spy and become an operative in the war against Voldemort, or go to Azkaban. It wasn't a hard decision.
And here he was, seven years later, a Professor at Hogwarts.
And forever in Dumbledore's debt.
With all these thoughts to confuse him, and the Potion seeping through his veins, Severus soon joined Ayla in the land of slumber.
***
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: In no way, shape, or form do I wish anyone to recognize any characters found in the Harry Potter books as belonging to anyone other than J.K. Rowling, publishers such as Bloomsbury Books, Raincoast Books, Scholastic Books, or Warner Brothers, Inc. I do not own characters found in any published works, and can claim only Ayla Landau and Penny Lane at the moment, and some others that will be introduced later.
Thanks for all the Reviews: Rosmerta (just out of curiosity, are you *the* Rosmerta? The one with that fabulous fic with the name that escapes me? With Harry as a girl?), Daized and Conphused, Fae, XevenOf9, Xara, Starlight (I love your story, the one with the Megan girl, it's really very good), ferguspork