AN: Back again, with chapter three. It's not interesting love-wise, to say
the least, but I'm not going to make this easy on any of them. Like Emilia
thought, "People don't change overnight," and therefore, neither will they.
So, here's chapter three (yay!) and please, read and review! Sorry I had
to change the chapter names; they are still the same chapters.
Chapter Three: Now or Never
"What are you doing here?!" she exclaimed loudly, throwing her hands into the air. "Get out of my classroom! Don't you have classes soon, as well?!"
Snape only looked at her calmly, tapping his fingers on the oak desk. "What's it to you?"
"Out!" she screeched, walking over and swinging the chair around away from the desk. She pointed to the door, her face flushed with fury. If it were anyone she did not want to see now, it definitely had to be him. "Out!" she repeated, a little bit louder than the first time she had yelled it. Quietly, she added, "Can you comprehend this? Do I have to drag you out?"
Snape stood up nonchalantly, walking over to her. "Once again, I must ask, what is it to you?"
"I don't know what the heck you're talking about, but whatever it is, I don't care. Leave, now. I've got my third class in fifteen minutes."
"And so have I. I'm not worrying about it, am I?"
She backed up, confused. Why wasn't he leaving? What exactly was he intending to do? Stay and watch her teach?
"What is it that you want, because it looks like you aren't leaving until you…er…" she paused, backing up a couple of steps. She hit the wall behind her with a soft thud, and tried not to look too surprised. "What is it that you want?" she finished, her back down firmly against the wall. She folded her arms casually; all she wanted to look like now was that she was intending to lean against the wall like that.
"What is it that I want? I want you to apologize to me for the horrid way you treated me in the lunchroom in front of all those students," he replied, walking forward to her.
"A-apologize?" she stuttered. His face smirked a bit. "You have to apologize first. You started it, the whole bit about my family."
"If you start there, then you must apologize for threatening me with the Headmaster."
"If you go there, then what about disrupting my class?"
"And what about the whole bit in the Great Hall?"
"What about when I first arrived? You started everything. Everything about my family, and me— you started it. You, not me, started it, you miserable old coot."
"What are we, grade school vocabulary? Haven't got anything more intelligent to say?" he replied, now dangerously close to her. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her face expressionless. He smiled, a very grim smile, but a smile none-the-less. Emilia crossed her arms tighter around her. This situation hit too close to home…
Suddenly, the bell rang, and Snape moved swiftly away from her. "I can't apologize for your incompetence, Black," he said loftily, walking casually away.
Emilia breathed a loud sigh, feeling her knees buckle out from underneath her. Damn him. Damn him for getting close. And…damn her for almost enjoying it.
Emilia only saw him around mealtimes, and yet that was too much. Knowing that she couldn't stick just on meager meals, she began to eat a bit more. Which meant longer time in the Great Hall and every mealtime in the Great Hall. The food was very rich, but she didn't dislike it. In fact, it was the first time she'd had proper food since she was seventeen.
Once again, dinner proved to be quite a fun exchange of words between her and Snape. She began to see that the only communication with his "own" kind (she was sure he was some sort of alien by now) was by provoking and insulting. Pity she couldn't rise above it. Emilia had too much pride, and she was stubborn. Not to mention she couldn't resist getting the last word. She hated when people tried to be better than she is when they…weren't. Therefore, she couldn't help rising to his provoking offense comments.
At least she didn't slap him. She sat there quietly eating dinner after the episode in her room. It was really confusing to her why he did what he did. She supposed he was just getting her back for making a fool out of him when she slapped him. Not that he did deserve it, of course. Looking back, she should have found a better way to rising to his bait. Something a little less…Black like. He was right, sort of. She was no better than they were.
Depressing thought, really. She stirred her pudding on her plate absent-mindedly. She had her chin on her hand, leaning it on the table. Sighing, she continued to stir. It was somewhat…comforting. She actually ate a decent meal.
Snape noticed this. "What, is not everything happy in Black land?" he sneered.
"Why is it that the only time you talk to me is to insult me? Can't you even hold a decent conversation?" she replied, putting her hands on her lap. Emilia looked at him.
"If I could find enough intelligence in this god-forsaken building, sure, I could hold a decent conversation," he snapped.
"Fine. I think I qualify as intelligence. What is it like to be surrounded all day by students performing potions?" she asked, oblivious to his indiscreet insult to her. Well, not oblivious. Just choosing not to be provoked.
"It's hell," he replied simply, yet just as nasty. "You can only imagine a bunch of inadequate children messing around with extremely dangerous potions for a day. Then multiply the ego factor."
Emilia had to restrain herself from replying. It was oh-too simple to say, "You're ego factor is how much? 10 billion?" She bit her lip. "I know what that's like. You get those students who think they should be teaching the class themselves. More or less, that's the Slytherins, though."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "I'm the Head of Slytherin House, Black."
Emilia looked over at him with a loopy sort of smile. "I know," she answered playfully. It was finally nice to have a conversation that didn't end with him either slapped or embarrassed in front of the entire school body. Really nice, actually.
He turned back to his food, obviously keen on ending their conversation. Emilia stomach sank. "Er, Snape, sorry," she said, looking away from him.
"What?"
"Sorry," she repeated, still looking down at her plate.
"Thought so. Quite unusual to hear an apology from a Black," he replied. Emilia's face turned quickly to him, her hand noticeably clenched into a fist. "Er, I mean that in a good way," he added quickly. Emilia smiled. Turning back to her own plate, she obligingly finished her own meal, in quite a better mood.
Emilia stood and pushed in her own chair. "You know, Black seems so…formal. We are, after all, colleagues. Please call me Emilia," she said quickly. She turned to leave.
His hand caught her wrist, as she passed by his seat. He stood up. "Sure, then, Emilia," he said, walking by her, as if not to appear too inconspicuous. As he walked by her, he whispered, "It's Severus, then."
She watched him leave as quickly as he came. Standing there for a moment before she gathered herself up, she walked out with her head held high. There was no way he could change like that so quickly. She wasn't a fool. Emilia, thinking back, saw right through his moves. He just didn't want to make a fool of himself again by her hand. Really simple, actually. People don't change like that. She should know, of all people. He was just trying to get her so that when he does decide to fight back, she wouldn't be ready. Trying to make her loose her edge. Throwing her off, even. People like Severus Snape don't change overnight, and they definitely don't extend a hand of friendship. Especially to people like her.
Emilia walked into her room, and glanced about it. It was on the fifth floor, in one of the miscellaneous towers that extended from that floor. She had to climb about four staircases to reach it. The room itself, though, was worth the walk. Her bed had maroon curtains, and quite wonderful in the winter months, she was assured. Her trunk lay forgotten; all of the robes and other necessities were placed in their respective drawers. The room was, in fact, very neat and clean, and everything in its place. She sighed. Sometimes she could be so boring.
What a long day, she supposed. In fact, it felt like a lifetime crammed into 24 hours. Very interesting that so much could happen in just one day. She'd been here, at this school, for about three weeks already, over the summer and preparing for her job. What confused her the most is how the people acted.
Most of the Gryffindors were nice. There were a precious few who disliked her, but what could she expect? Some of them got on her nerves, and others she thought were simply darling. The Ravenclaws were smart and studious, just like the Sorting Hat's story said. They weren't really much fun to be around. Bit of a drag, actually. The Hufflepuffs were kind enough, but some of them were very biased. The Slytherins surprised her. They acted either all that or they didn't act. Those who knew her bloodline were impressed and most kind to her. She felt disgusted by that sort of behavior. Then, there was those who knew she'd gone her own way and felt that she was wrong to resist the Dark Lord. For instance, Parkington's daughter was very rude, and Macnair's son was very insulting. Then there were those that…surprised her in the way they acted. Like that Malfoy boy. He certainly was interesting. Extremely sappy to her, obviously pleased with Dumbledore's choice on "such a pureblood", as she heard walking around the class.
Really, in truth, it was the teachers she was most bewildered at. Flitwick and Sprout, she noticed, were being sort of nice (they actually talked to her after their first committee meeting). Some, like McGonagall, tutted loudly when she talked and frowned upon her every move. Only Dumbledore, even now, still talked to her nicely. Then there was Snape.
Snape. Such an interesting man, he was. He only talked to her to insult her. The difference being, he was the only one to talk to her. No one, in three weeks, had talked to her but Dumbledore and Snape. Snape, being of course, the cause of her nervousness (to which was discarded after five minutes of her first class). He was vicious at times, yet, like at dinner, he was almost civil. He confused her very much. Why did he do that? Why was he in her classroom after lunch? Waiting for her to apologize or was something else there? Maybe, she was supposing too much. He could have just been looking through her desk. He would, too, him being who he was. And what was that whole name thing? Why had she done that, when he made a fool of her in front of her class and everything else about her family? Impulse, she supposed. Well, impulse sucks. Because, she thought dryly, this looks very bad. It looked like she…never mind it.
She couldn't. She wouldn't dare. She can't even think about it. This was Snape. This was Snape! She wouldn't even dare to allow herself to think toward that. She can't possibly…but perhaps it was too late. Her stomach did a flip-flop. Deny, deny, and deny…. No, she wouldn't even think about that. She remembered all too well what happens when you start thinking that way. She would push it away, until forever and a day. She didn't live by the "It's now or never," line. She lived by the line, "Never."
Crawling into her bed, she pushed her hair into a sloppy bun atop her head. Never, she supposed, is a very long time.
Happily, the next few months were without incident. Halloween came and went; winter was fast approaching and the grounds were permanently in a frost. Potter's extra defense classes were going brilliantly, and were now join by his friend Ron Weasley, and his girlfriend (or what she assumed to be; they seemed to be rather close), Hermione Granger. Her classes were finally becoming much more interesting, and soon she found that students enjoyed coming to her class. It certainly reflected on Snape, anyway. Since most of her classes were going to his, he ended up with happy students. This made him extremely miserable.
The first-name basis died instantly the next day. As soon as she saw him at breakfast, he hissed his usual greeting of making fun of either her family or the fact she was young, either way it ended most pronounced "Black", like he was spitting out a dirty name. This continued on, both of them insulting each other. Emilia even caught McGonagall smile appreciatively when she had Snape beaten even before he'd started. The one thing she noticed is that she never started any of these.
Their hallway-encounters were very much the same. "Tramp," he spat, to which she'd reply, "Male-chauvinistic pig"--his "Inbred," to her "Having a miserable life?": it was the same day in, day out.
After a few weeks of this, McGonagall began to warm up a bit. While Snape only got nastier, the rest of them got slightly nicer. Flitwick squeaked a "Hello," to her sometimes; Sprout nodded her head in the hall. McGonagall even talked to her sometimes at mealtimes. Even more than "Pass the gravy".
Emilia didn't feel at home as when she did in her schooldays, but it was better then before, a bit. She'd heard some of her students talking about her. More or less the whole, "D'you think she's going to stay after this year?" and something she found very interesting, "I don't know if she will. It's a known fact that Snape's envied this job for quite a bit of time."
This made her smile. No wonder why Snape was such a prick to her. He envied her job. Not to mention the "Underage, not even above consent," (to which she frowned on this and replied, "Like you are old, there, Snape—what, looking for a good time?") to "How's the heir of Death doing?". Everything came down to her. What was it about her that made him want to wish only ill upon her? Quite frankly, she was pretty sure she hadn't done anything more than reply to his taunts.
One day McGonagall came to see her after dinner. She rapped on her door three times.
"Yes?" Emilia answered. She walked over to the door, and opened it slowly. She saw McGonagall in her usual tight-haired bun, and her normal black robes. "Come in," she said, although she was pretty sure there was a hint of surprise in her voice. She stepped aside and opened the door wider. McGonagall came in, brushing off her robes unconsciously.
"Thank you," she replied, almost smiling. McGonagall was a strict but fair woman, and she didn't have much to say on a sense of humor.
Emilia walked over to the small kettle she'd been preparing. Time to be nice, she thought to herself. "I was just about to make some tea. Would you are for some?" she asked tentatively.
"Yes, sure, thanks" she replied, still standing, and glancing around a bit. She was somewhat impressed that the room was in such a neat state.
"Sorry!" Emilia apologized, looking up at her. "Please, have a seat," she said, using her wand to magically move a chair over to where McGonagall was standing, scooped her up, and moved her to the small table in the middle of the room. "Tea should be ready in a bit, just put the kettle on," she explained needlessly, pulling out a tea set from the cabinet next to the fireplace. It had silver moons and shiny gold stars sprinkled over them, but not in a childish way. She set them down, one in front of McGonagall and one in front of her. The teapot lay over near the small bench next to the fireplace. Emilia pulled herself a seat, and sat quietly. Folding her hands, she rested her chin lightly on them. "What is it that you need, Professor?" Emilia still didn't feel comfortable calling anyone by his or her name. It seemed so…odd, and even more awkward than she needed.
"Please, it's Minerva," she said, waving her hand somewhat impatiently at Emilia's protests. "And I've come to have a bit of a…chat. I want to…apologize…for my behavior. I've been less than friendly to you."
Emilia opened her mouth to say, "Well, at least you haven't taken on the responsibility it insult me," when McGonagall continued. "I just want to ask you a couple of things, and perhaps, you know…be friends."
Emilia nearly had to shake herself not to glance sideways at her (and ask her where the real McGonagall was being held on the Mother Ship) when she instead pulled herself together. "Er, Minerva, it's quite all right. At least you haven't been nearly as mean as Snape has," she replied quietly.
Minerva smiled. "Yes, I do wish to ask you about that. What is going on between you two? Obviously hatred is a bit strong word to use here—"
"It's not hatred," she interrupted, "it's loathing to the highest degree. He's definitely got a way to make one feel at home when you're new," she said, somewhat sarcastically. Minerva smiled a bit.
"Yes, well, that's Severus for you," she said, looking down at the teacup. Emilia got up to check the water, which was now hissing loudly. She pulled it off the fireplace and set it on the pad on the bench, and took care to pour it into the teapot.
"I've been meaning to ask you," Emilia replied, still pouring the hot liquid, her back to Minerva, "What is the matter with him? Why does he insist on offending me? Is it his sport, or something?" Emilia set the pot down, and picked up the teapot, along with two tea bags. "Sorry for the teabags, haven't been to Hogsmeade to pick up any tea leaves," she apologized, and started to pour the water.
"Severus…well, I do suppose it is his sport to make fun of people. He does take much pride in that," she added, dunking the teabag absent- mindedly into her cup. "I don't know about you…think of it this way. He's preoccupied with insulting you; he's not insulting the students. Especially those in Gryffindor."
"Yes, well, I can deal with it a bit better than they can," she admitted, shaking her head slightly. "I just don't understand why he insists upon me though. Isn't there anyone else he can take his misery on?" She took a sip from her cup, and made a face. It obviously was still a bit too hot.
"That is a curious question indeed," Minerva replied. "Although I find Snape to be a bit of a depressing subject, so…" She paused.
"Yes," Emilia agreed immediately, taking Minerva's pause as a chance to change the subject to a happier one. It was quite nice to finally have someone civil to talk to, for a change. "What else was it you needed?"
"Well, I just want to ask you something. I knew your father, he was in Slytherin when I was a teacher here, a new one, at the very least, but I was here. Your father…" she paused, searching for the right words.
"Was a bit like that Malfoy kid?" she suggested. "Yes, I know. I also can guess to where you're leading. No, I've never been a Death Eater, and never plan to be one. I also am trying to break off from my family's tradition, but it is really hard." Emilia paused, waiting for her to absorb this, and took a sip of her tea, which had finally, cooled.
"Er…all right," she said, obviously obtaining more information then she expected. "What do you think of your teaching and your classes? I've heard students are obviously enjoying them."
"I'm quite happy about that," she replied, pouring herself another cup. "It's really great to be teaching again. The students are fun. Well, almost all of them," she added, with a grin.
"Teaching again?" Minerva inquired.
"Yes, I used to teach abroad. Young students, they were, and very keen on learning to defend themselves. Right about after…er, You-Know- Who's defeat. Three years, actually, afterward. People were still frightened. I don't blame them. Especially if the rumors I have heard are true," she said quietly. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or rather Voldemort, still hung a cloud of dark over her past.
"Interesting," Minerva mused quietly, sipping her tea. "That is why Dumbledore asked you to carry on with Potter's extra defense classes?" Emilia nodded.
"Yes, and he is doing exceptionally well," she replied. "I have three students…well, actually, two. That Hermione Granger is practically a self-teaching student. I don't even know why she bothers coming to classes, except to confirm what she already deeply knows." Emilia paused. She almost…resented Hermione Granger. A little bit, she supposed. Well, not really. Hermione Granger is a lot like she was when she went to school, a little bookworm. Reliving a memory, really. How can you resent something that resembles you?
"Yes, it pleases me she was put into Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw," said Minerva, setting down her teacup. "She would have done well either way, but she makes Gryffindor proud."
"Along with that young Potter," Emilia added. "He's quite an intelligent child," she paused, wondering why she was talking like she was so much older than he was! "I mean, boy, and it's nice to work with someone who is so keen and able."
"Yes, it is. Correct me if I'm wrong, but when you were here, your strong points were…?"
Emilia grinned. "Potions, Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Quite opposites, but look at me and my family."
"Yes, of course," Minerva agreed, looking at the clock perched on Emilia's mantel above her fireplace. It was an old wizarding clock, which read somewhat like Muggles' clocks did. "I have to go up to the Gryffindor Tower and quiet them down. Did you realize the first match is tomorrow? You will be cheering for Gryffindor, won't you?"
"Yes, of course," she replied quickly, as if any other answer would have her cursed. Emilia stood along with Minerva. "It was really nice talking to you…or someone."
"You may come down to my room, if you want, if you are lonely," Minerva offered, opening her door. "I'm only doing grading at night."
"I wouldn't want to disturb—" but Emilia was waved off.
"Stuff and nonsense. Visit," she said, almost like an order. Minerva smiled, most unlike her usual thin-lipped smile she usually gave. "I'll see you at the game tomorrow, at nine."
"I'll be there," Emilia said happily. Minerva walked out, and Emilia closed the door.
Chapter Three: Now or Never
"What are you doing here?!" she exclaimed loudly, throwing her hands into the air. "Get out of my classroom! Don't you have classes soon, as well?!"
Snape only looked at her calmly, tapping his fingers on the oak desk. "What's it to you?"
"Out!" she screeched, walking over and swinging the chair around away from the desk. She pointed to the door, her face flushed with fury. If it were anyone she did not want to see now, it definitely had to be him. "Out!" she repeated, a little bit louder than the first time she had yelled it. Quietly, she added, "Can you comprehend this? Do I have to drag you out?"
Snape stood up nonchalantly, walking over to her. "Once again, I must ask, what is it to you?"
"I don't know what the heck you're talking about, but whatever it is, I don't care. Leave, now. I've got my third class in fifteen minutes."
"And so have I. I'm not worrying about it, am I?"
She backed up, confused. Why wasn't he leaving? What exactly was he intending to do? Stay and watch her teach?
"What is it that you want, because it looks like you aren't leaving until you…er…" she paused, backing up a couple of steps. She hit the wall behind her with a soft thud, and tried not to look too surprised. "What is it that you want?" she finished, her back down firmly against the wall. She folded her arms casually; all she wanted to look like now was that she was intending to lean against the wall like that.
"What is it that I want? I want you to apologize to me for the horrid way you treated me in the lunchroom in front of all those students," he replied, walking forward to her.
"A-apologize?" she stuttered. His face smirked a bit. "You have to apologize first. You started it, the whole bit about my family."
"If you start there, then you must apologize for threatening me with the Headmaster."
"If you go there, then what about disrupting my class?"
"And what about the whole bit in the Great Hall?"
"What about when I first arrived? You started everything. Everything about my family, and me— you started it. You, not me, started it, you miserable old coot."
"What are we, grade school vocabulary? Haven't got anything more intelligent to say?" he replied, now dangerously close to her. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her face expressionless. He smiled, a very grim smile, but a smile none-the-less. Emilia crossed her arms tighter around her. This situation hit too close to home…
Suddenly, the bell rang, and Snape moved swiftly away from her. "I can't apologize for your incompetence, Black," he said loftily, walking casually away.
Emilia breathed a loud sigh, feeling her knees buckle out from underneath her. Damn him. Damn him for getting close. And…damn her for almost enjoying it.
Emilia only saw him around mealtimes, and yet that was too much. Knowing that she couldn't stick just on meager meals, she began to eat a bit more. Which meant longer time in the Great Hall and every mealtime in the Great Hall. The food was very rich, but she didn't dislike it. In fact, it was the first time she'd had proper food since she was seventeen.
Once again, dinner proved to be quite a fun exchange of words between her and Snape. She began to see that the only communication with his "own" kind (she was sure he was some sort of alien by now) was by provoking and insulting. Pity she couldn't rise above it. Emilia had too much pride, and she was stubborn. Not to mention she couldn't resist getting the last word. She hated when people tried to be better than she is when they…weren't. Therefore, she couldn't help rising to his provoking offense comments.
At least she didn't slap him. She sat there quietly eating dinner after the episode in her room. It was really confusing to her why he did what he did. She supposed he was just getting her back for making a fool out of him when she slapped him. Not that he did deserve it, of course. Looking back, she should have found a better way to rising to his bait. Something a little less…Black like. He was right, sort of. She was no better than they were.
Depressing thought, really. She stirred her pudding on her plate absent-mindedly. She had her chin on her hand, leaning it on the table. Sighing, she continued to stir. It was somewhat…comforting. She actually ate a decent meal.
Snape noticed this. "What, is not everything happy in Black land?" he sneered.
"Why is it that the only time you talk to me is to insult me? Can't you even hold a decent conversation?" she replied, putting her hands on her lap. Emilia looked at him.
"If I could find enough intelligence in this god-forsaken building, sure, I could hold a decent conversation," he snapped.
"Fine. I think I qualify as intelligence. What is it like to be surrounded all day by students performing potions?" she asked, oblivious to his indiscreet insult to her. Well, not oblivious. Just choosing not to be provoked.
"It's hell," he replied simply, yet just as nasty. "You can only imagine a bunch of inadequate children messing around with extremely dangerous potions for a day. Then multiply the ego factor."
Emilia had to restrain herself from replying. It was oh-too simple to say, "You're ego factor is how much? 10 billion?" She bit her lip. "I know what that's like. You get those students who think they should be teaching the class themselves. More or less, that's the Slytherins, though."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "I'm the Head of Slytherin House, Black."
Emilia looked over at him with a loopy sort of smile. "I know," she answered playfully. It was finally nice to have a conversation that didn't end with him either slapped or embarrassed in front of the entire school body. Really nice, actually.
He turned back to his food, obviously keen on ending their conversation. Emilia stomach sank. "Er, Snape, sorry," she said, looking away from him.
"What?"
"Sorry," she repeated, still looking down at her plate.
"Thought so. Quite unusual to hear an apology from a Black," he replied. Emilia's face turned quickly to him, her hand noticeably clenched into a fist. "Er, I mean that in a good way," he added quickly. Emilia smiled. Turning back to her own plate, she obligingly finished her own meal, in quite a better mood.
Emilia stood and pushed in her own chair. "You know, Black seems so…formal. We are, after all, colleagues. Please call me Emilia," she said quickly. She turned to leave.
His hand caught her wrist, as she passed by his seat. He stood up. "Sure, then, Emilia," he said, walking by her, as if not to appear too inconspicuous. As he walked by her, he whispered, "It's Severus, then."
She watched him leave as quickly as he came. Standing there for a moment before she gathered herself up, she walked out with her head held high. There was no way he could change like that so quickly. She wasn't a fool. Emilia, thinking back, saw right through his moves. He just didn't want to make a fool of himself again by her hand. Really simple, actually. People don't change like that. She should know, of all people. He was just trying to get her so that when he does decide to fight back, she wouldn't be ready. Trying to make her loose her edge. Throwing her off, even. People like Severus Snape don't change overnight, and they definitely don't extend a hand of friendship. Especially to people like her.
Emilia walked into her room, and glanced about it. It was on the fifth floor, in one of the miscellaneous towers that extended from that floor. She had to climb about four staircases to reach it. The room itself, though, was worth the walk. Her bed had maroon curtains, and quite wonderful in the winter months, she was assured. Her trunk lay forgotten; all of the robes and other necessities were placed in their respective drawers. The room was, in fact, very neat and clean, and everything in its place. She sighed. Sometimes she could be so boring.
What a long day, she supposed. In fact, it felt like a lifetime crammed into 24 hours. Very interesting that so much could happen in just one day. She'd been here, at this school, for about three weeks already, over the summer and preparing for her job. What confused her the most is how the people acted.
Most of the Gryffindors were nice. There were a precious few who disliked her, but what could she expect? Some of them got on her nerves, and others she thought were simply darling. The Ravenclaws were smart and studious, just like the Sorting Hat's story said. They weren't really much fun to be around. Bit of a drag, actually. The Hufflepuffs were kind enough, but some of them were very biased. The Slytherins surprised her. They acted either all that or they didn't act. Those who knew her bloodline were impressed and most kind to her. She felt disgusted by that sort of behavior. Then, there was those who knew she'd gone her own way and felt that she was wrong to resist the Dark Lord. For instance, Parkington's daughter was very rude, and Macnair's son was very insulting. Then there were those that…surprised her in the way they acted. Like that Malfoy boy. He certainly was interesting. Extremely sappy to her, obviously pleased with Dumbledore's choice on "such a pureblood", as she heard walking around the class.
Really, in truth, it was the teachers she was most bewildered at. Flitwick and Sprout, she noticed, were being sort of nice (they actually talked to her after their first committee meeting). Some, like McGonagall, tutted loudly when she talked and frowned upon her every move. Only Dumbledore, even now, still talked to her nicely. Then there was Snape.
Snape. Such an interesting man, he was. He only talked to her to insult her. The difference being, he was the only one to talk to her. No one, in three weeks, had talked to her but Dumbledore and Snape. Snape, being of course, the cause of her nervousness (to which was discarded after five minutes of her first class). He was vicious at times, yet, like at dinner, he was almost civil. He confused her very much. Why did he do that? Why was he in her classroom after lunch? Waiting for her to apologize or was something else there? Maybe, she was supposing too much. He could have just been looking through her desk. He would, too, him being who he was. And what was that whole name thing? Why had she done that, when he made a fool of her in front of her class and everything else about her family? Impulse, she supposed. Well, impulse sucks. Because, she thought dryly, this looks very bad. It looked like she…never mind it.
She couldn't. She wouldn't dare. She can't even think about it. This was Snape. This was Snape! She wouldn't even dare to allow herself to think toward that. She can't possibly…but perhaps it was too late. Her stomach did a flip-flop. Deny, deny, and deny…. No, she wouldn't even think about that. She remembered all too well what happens when you start thinking that way. She would push it away, until forever and a day. She didn't live by the "It's now or never," line. She lived by the line, "Never."
Crawling into her bed, she pushed her hair into a sloppy bun atop her head. Never, she supposed, is a very long time.
Happily, the next few months were without incident. Halloween came and went; winter was fast approaching and the grounds were permanently in a frost. Potter's extra defense classes were going brilliantly, and were now join by his friend Ron Weasley, and his girlfriend (or what she assumed to be; they seemed to be rather close), Hermione Granger. Her classes were finally becoming much more interesting, and soon she found that students enjoyed coming to her class. It certainly reflected on Snape, anyway. Since most of her classes were going to his, he ended up with happy students. This made him extremely miserable.
The first-name basis died instantly the next day. As soon as she saw him at breakfast, he hissed his usual greeting of making fun of either her family or the fact she was young, either way it ended most pronounced "Black", like he was spitting out a dirty name. This continued on, both of them insulting each other. Emilia even caught McGonagall smile appreciatively when she had Snape beaten even before he'd started. The one thing she noticed is that she never started any of these.
Their hallway-encounters were very much the same. "Tramp," he spat, to which she'd reply, "Male-chauvinistic pig"--his "Inbred," to her "Having a miserable life?": it was the same day in, day out.
After a few weeks of this, McGonagall began to warm up a bit. While Snape only got nastier, the rest of them got slightly nicer. Flitwick squeaked a "Hello," to her sometimes; Sprout nodded her head in the hall. McGonagall even talked to her sometimes at mealtimes. Even more than "Pass the gravy".
Emilia didn't feel at home as when she did in her schooldays, but it was better then before, a bit. She'd heard some of her students talking about her. More or less the whole, "D'you think she's going to stay after this year?" and something she found very interesting, "I don't know if she will. It's a known fact that Snape's envied this job for quite a bit of time."
This made her smile. No wonder why Snape was such a prick to her. He envied her job. Not to mention the "Underage, not even above consent," (to which she frowned on this and replied, "Like you are old, there, Snape—what, looking for a good time?") to "How's the heir of Death doing?". Everything came down to her. What was it about her that made him want to wish only ill upon her? Quite frankly, she was pretty sure she hadn't done anything more than reply to his taunts.
One day McGonagall came to see her after dinner. She rapped on her door three times.
"Yes?" Emilia answered. She walked over to the door, and opened it slowly. She saw McGonagall in her usual tight-haired bun, and her normal black robes. "Come in," she said, although she was pretty sure there was a hint of surprise in her voice. She stepped aside and opened the door wider. McGonagall came in, brushing off her robes unconsciously.
"Thank you," she replied, almost smiling. McGonagall was a strict but fair woman, and she didn't have much to say on a sense of humor.
Emilia walked over to the small kettle she'd been preparing. Time to be nice, she thought to herself. "I was just about to make some tea. Would you are for some?" she asked tentatively.
"Yes, sure, thanks" she replied, still standing, and glancing around a bit. She was somewhat impressed that the room was in such a neat state.
"Sorry!" Emilia apologized, looking up at her. "Please, have a seat," she said, using her wand to magically move a chair over to where McGonagall was standing, scooped her up, and moved her to the small table in the middle of the room. "Tea should be ready in a bit, just put the kettle on," she explained needlessly, pulling out a tea set from the cabinet next to the fireplace. It had silver moons and shiny gold stars sprinkled over them, but not in a childish way. She set them down, one in front of McGonagall and one in front of her. The teapot lay over near the small bench next to the fireplace. Emilia pulled herself a seat, and sat quietly. Folding her hands, she rested her chin lightly on them. "What is it that you need, Professor?" Emilia still didn't feel comfortable calling anyone by his or her name. It seemed so…odd, and even more awkward than she needed.
"Please, it's Minerva," she said, waving her hand somewhat impatiently at Emilia's protests. "And I've come to have a bit of a…chat. I want to…apologize…for my behavior. I've been less than friendly to you."
Emilia opened her mouth to say, "Well, at least you haven't taken on the responsibility it insult me," when McGonagall continued. "I just want to ask you a couple of things, and perhaps, you know…be friends."
Emilia nearly had to shake herself not to glance sideways at her (and ask her where the real McGonagall was being held on the Mother Ship) when she instead pulled herself together. "Er, Minerva, it's quite all right. At least you haven't been nearly as mean as Snape has," she replied quietly.
Minerva smiled. "Yes, I do wish to ask you about that. What is going on between you two? Obviously hatred is a bit strong word to use here—"
"It's not hatred," she interrupted, "it's loathing to the highest degree. He's definitely got a way to make one feel at home when you're new," she said, somewhat sarcastically. Minerva smiled a bit.
"Yes, well, that's Severus for you," she said, looking down at the teacup. Emilia got up to check the water, which was now hissing loudly. She pulled it off the fireplace and set it on the pad on the bench, and took care to pour it into the teapot.
"I've been meaning to ask you," Emilia replied, still pouring the hot liquid, her back to Minerva, "What is the matter with him? Why does he insist on offending me? Is it his sport, or something?" Emilia set the pot down, and picked up the teapot, along with two tea bags. "Sorry for the teabags, haven't been to Hogsmeade to pick up any tea leaves," she apologized, and started to pour the water.
"Severus…well, I do suppose it is his sport to make fun of people. He does take much pride in that," she added, dunking the teabag absent- mindedly into her cup. "I don't know about you…think of it this way. He's preoccupied with insulting you; he's not insulting the students. Especially those in Gryffindor."
"Yes, well, I can deal with it a bit better than they can," she admitted, shaking her head slightly. "I just don't understand why he insists upon me though. Isn't there anyone else he can take his misery on?" She took a sip from her cup, and made a face. It obviously was still a bit too hot.
"That is a curious question indeed," Minerva replied. "Although I find Snape to be a bit of a depressing subject, so…" She paused.
"Yes," Emilia agreed immediately, taking Minerva's pause as a chance to change the subject to a happier one. It was quite nice to finally have someone civil to talk to, for a change. "What else was it you needed?"
"Well, I just want to ask you something. I knew your father, he was in Slytherin when I was a teacher here, a new one, at the very least, but I was here. Your father…" she paused, searching for the right words.
"Was a bit like that Malfoy kid?" she suggested. "Yes, I know. I also can guess to where you're leading. No, I've never been a Death Eater, and never plan to be one. I also am trying to break off from my family's tradition, but it is really hard." Emilia paused, waiting for her to absorb this, and took a sip of her tea, which had finally, cooled.
"Er…all right," she said, obviously obtaining more information then she expected. "What do you think of your teaching and your classes? I've heard students are obviously enjoying them."
"I'm quite happy about that," she replied, pouring herself another cup. "It's really great to be teaching again. The students are fun. Well, almost all of them," she added, with a grin.
"Teaching again?" Minerva inquired.
"Yes, I used to teach abroad. Young students, they were, and very keen on learning to defend themselves. Right about after…er, You-Know- Who's defeat. Three years, actually, afterward. People were still frightened. I don't blame them. Especially if the rumors I have heard are true," she said quietly. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or rather Voldemort, still hung a cloud of dark over her past.
"Interesting," Minerva mused quietly, sipping her tea. "That is why Dumbledore asked you to carry on with Potter's extra defense classes?" Emilia nodded.
"Yes, and he is doing exceptionally well," she replied. "I have three students…well, actually, two. That Hermione Granger is practically a self-teaching student. I don't even know why she bothers coming to classes, except to confirm what she already deeply knows." Emilia paused. She almost…resented Hermione Granger. A little bit, she supposed. Well, not really. Hermione Granger is a lot like she was when she went to school, a little bookworm. Reliving a memory, really. How can you resent something that resembles you?
"Yes, it pleases me she was put into Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw," said Minerva, setting down her teacup. "She would have done well either way, but she makes Gryffindor proud."
"Along with that young Potter," Emilia added. "He's quite an intelligent child," she paused, wondering why she was talking like she was so much older than he was! "I mean, boy, and it's nice to work with someone who is so keen and able."
"Yes, it is. Correct me if I'm wrong, but when you were here, your strong points were…?"
Emilia grinned. "Potions, Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Quite opposites, but look at me and my family."
"Yes, of course," Minerva agreed, looking at the clock perched on Emilia's mantel above her fireplace. It was an old wizarding clock, which read somewhat like Muggles' clocks did. "I have to go up to the Gryffindor Tower and quiet them down. Did you realize the first match is tomorrow? You will be cheering for Gryffindor, won't you?"
"Yes, of course," she replied quickly, as if any other answer would have her cursed. Emilia stood along with Minerva. "It was really nice talking to you…or someone."
"You may come down to my room, if you want, if you are lonely," Minerva offered, opening her door. "I'm only doing grading at night."
"I wouldn't want to disturb—" but Emilia was waved off.
"Stuff and nonsense. Visit," she said, almost like an order. Minerva smiled, most unlike her usual thin-lipped smile she usually gave. "I'll see you at the game tomorrow, at nine."
"I'll be there," Emilia said happily. Minerva walked out, and Emilia closed the door.