Please note, that I do not own the character of Severus Snape, or any other magical lingo.

Chapter One:

The rain came pelting down.  The gray mansion ahead was wreathed in cloud and water. 

The sight made Samantha shudder.  So cold and forbidding.  But she had no other choice.  She was feeling delirious and desperate from the cold. 

There wasn't another house for miles.  She'd been walking for hours in the storm.  The mansion looked like something easily overlooked, especially during a storm.  She could hide out here for a while, maybe until the rain stops. 

She walked up the long elegant path, leading to the front entrance.  The garden bordering the path was full of dull colors and overgrown plants that have been neglected for years.

Maybe nobody was living here…Samantha couldn't be sure, and she'd only know when she knocked. 

She continued up the pathway, tripping over a few stones that were loose.  She clenched her dripping cloak shut, and when a flash of lightening danced on the horizon, she stopped.  She stared at the horizon, frozen for a moment, blinking as if suddenly awoken. 

What was she doing here?  She could get in trouble…or worse, get someone else in trouble…Maybe she should just leave…now. 

But still cold and shivering, she ignored common sense, and slowly continued to the door, jumping when the thunder finally worked its way to her.

Reaching the door, she shook her cloak, observing the intricate carvings on the door.  It looked like a masterpiece of dragons and snakes.  The dark wood of the door looked old and very weathered. 

Before she could knock, the door swung open.  She gasped in surprise, looking through the door.  There didn't appear to be anybody there.  Strange, she thought.

"Scuse me, miss…you must step inside, please?  You's letting in the cold!"  Samantha gasped again, glancing around for the source of the voice.  Something small tugged at her wet cloak.  She realized it was a house elf.  The poor thing was inviting her in and trying to take her wet cloak, and she was just standing there, like a fool.  She sighed, and stepped inside, slipping out of her cloak at the same time.

"Thank you.  I'm terribly sorry to be intruding…I was only wondering if…if... ACHOO!"  She sneezed.  Loudly.  She took a deep breath, before sneezing again, loudly.

A handsome, young man stalked into the foyer of the ancient mansion.  He looked like a perfect match for the dark and dreary fortitude.  He was gritting his teeth, holding a quill, as if terribly upset at being interrupted.

"What is going on?!"  His glare ensnared the tiny house elf, who yelped in fear.  She backed up into the closed door, before starting to stutter.

"S..s..sir, we have a guest."  She motioned toward Samantha, who was watching with wide eyes. 

Samantha, pushing her wet dripping hair over her shoulder, grinned at the glowering young man.  She had no clue what to do.  She felt like she was just about to be thrown out.  His glare became fiercer as he appraised the situation.

"What in Merlin's name is the meaning of this?" he said, his face forming a quick scowl. 

Samantha tried to respond, but her throat clamped close as she looked at him more closely.  He was tall, with his black clothes making him look intimidating.  He was young, about her age, early twenties.  His face was pale, his eyes a deep, rich brown.  He was regal.  Very handsome. 

Her mouth was suddenly dry, and her mind blank.  She stood there, feeling very stupid, waiting for him to speak.

He looked Samantha over critically.  She didn't mind.  She was intruding after all.  On a Sunday afternoon, in the middle of a storm, she invited herself over.

"What is your name?"

"Erm…I'm Samantha.  S…Smill.  I…er…was wondering if I could possibly rest here, during the storm.  Maybe get dry…" she looked hopefully into his dark eyes.  They now expressed no emotion.  The anger from earlier melted away.  Though his face was blank, he was still observing her.  She could feel his eyes searching her, piercing her.  She shivered at the thought.  He blinked.  He took this to mean that she was cold, which she was.

"Right.  And while you get warm, maybe you can explain what you were doing out there.  Alone…in the middle of a storm."  His suspicious gaze looked her over once more, before he nodded, and turned to leave her to the care of the house elf.  She took a step towards him, suddenly feeling brave, and cleared her throat.

"Excuse me, but to whom do I owe my thanks, sir?  I mean, you didn't tell me your name…" She sighed, thinking he wasn't going to stop to answer her.  But as he passed from the room, over his shoulder, he said muttered something softly.  The house elf, who must have heard, cleared her throat, and looked up at the woman.

"Yes, Miss Samantha, could Buttercup help you's get dry?"  She gestured for Samantha to follow.  They walked up a long and winding staircase, beautiful, but dark.  The deep red of the carpets and the rich mahogany of the railings made Samantha feel warm inside.  Soft candles were placed in holders on the wall, spaced out, lighting the wide staircase.

"In here, miss.  You'll find some clothes in that cabinet, and please come down to the library, where the master is, when you are finished."  The little house elf bowed, and turned to leave.

"Thank you very much, Buttercup."  Samantha smiled sweetly, as the house elf glanced over her shoulder, blushing, pulling the door closed on her way out.

Awkwardly, Samantha walked over to the cabinet, eager to get out of her dripping clothes. 

She looked around the large room.  The rich Persian rugs were slightly faded; a large four-poster bed, covered in a beautiful quilt; a great desk, covered in books, quills, and vials.  There were bookshelves, each filled with books, cauldrons, and bottles. 

The cabinet was the same warm wood as the staircase railings.  She ran her hand over the brass handle, before opening the small door. 

This man was probably really wealthy.  Really really wealthy.  Maybe powerful in his own right.  Perhaps he could help me, she wondered.  If she could only tell him…No, no, she mustn't.  What if he was captured?  She'd never forgive herself.  They'd torture him, hurt him…break him.

And he was so magnificent.  His dark brooding eyes, looking at her from under his dark brow.  His raven hair swept to his shoulders.  His soft lips…She should definitely not be thinking about him so intimately.  Who was she to him?  A stranger.  She couldn't help it, feeling oddly attracted to him.  Samantha shook her head, looking into the cabinet, trying to get her mind off the man.

Men's clothes.  It was an entire cabinet full of men's clothing.  There probably wasn't a woman living here.  These were all the warm clothes that they had.  She sighed.

Shivering, Samantha looked down at her wet robes.  She peeled them off and tossed them in the wicker basket on the floor of the cabinet.  She rubbed her arms, trying to circulate some heat. 

She glanced down at her torn dress, and forced down a soft sob. 

It was alright, she was safe now.  For now.  Glancing around the room once more, she felt a tear roll down her cheek.  She brushed it away, telling herself it would be alright.  Then, before taking off the dripping, shredded dress, she blinked a few tears, and searched for something to change into. 

Samantha found a large black shirt that would hang to her mid-thigh.  She slowly took off the dress, being careful of her sore limbs.  She also removed her wet underclothes.  She placed these in the basket, hoping that Buttercup wouldn't mind washing and drying them.  The dress, though, was beyond repair, so she tossed it into the waste basket. 

Another tear rolled down her cheek.  Her mother gave her that dress, but that was ages ago.  It seemed like a memory of another lifetime. 

She slipped the black shirt on and buttoned it, leaving the top a little open.  Feeling very much naked under that shirt, she continued looking in the cupboard for something of more substance.  Mostly suits and trousers.  She couldn't very well march down wearing a men's suit.  Better than just a shirt…

There was a soft knock at the door.  Buttercup came in.

"Master is wondering why you's taking so long, miss." 

Buttercup's large eyes looked at Samantha wearing only the thin shirt, and she understood her dilemma instantly.  "Buttercup asks the Master what we should do.  Just a moment…" 

With that, Buttercup left, leaving Samantha alone and shivering.  Her hair was still dripping wet.  She walked across the room to the desk at sat down in the chair.  She glanced over the parchments, and books, mostly about potions and dark arts. 

She was about to pick up a book, when she heard a harsh knock on the door.  She abruptly stood, just as the young man barged in, looking more irritated than earlier.  She crossed her arms across her chest, but that only reminded her of how naked she was feeling under the shirt. 

She blushed. 

The young man glanced at the cabinet and looked at the heap of Samantha clothes in the basket. 

She blushed. 

Then, the young man saw her, standing in the black shirt, beside the desk. 

He blushed. 

He dragged his eyes to the bed, and lifted his wand, to conjure a few articles of clothing, which neatly laid themselves out on the bed.

"Erm…there you are.  When you're dressed, come downstairs, I'll wait for you in the entrance hall." 

He rushed out of the room, not looking at Samantha again.  It took a few moments for Samantha to shake herself of the awkwardness of that encounter.  She inched her way to bed, wondering what he conjured for her to wear.  She picked up a fluffy black sweater and a thick gray wool skirt.  Very fashionable, she chuckled.  Then she picked up two pieces of lacey black lingerie.  She blushed again.  She smiled as she got dressed.  He was something.

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(J Ralph – One Million Miles Away, inspirational music for this fic)