Disclaimer- Only the plot belongs to me. I don't plan on receiving any profit, either.

Author's Note- If you review, I will update. If you don't review, I will probably still update. But I'll be in a much better mood if you take the time to critique. Flames are okay, but as of yet, I can't imagine what would inspire them. I've tried to keep it all kosher and canon with the exception of two 'orders.' The Bren/a is made up, by me. The Illuminatae is a shadowy organisation that may or may not exist. I'm just borrowing their name. Anything else non-canonical is probably a mistake. Take for instance Snape's title. Is it potion's master OR potions master? I think for the most part I've stuck with the latter but I'd be grateful if someone could confirm the usage.

Summary- Griee Morganae asserts her titles and, to the bafflement of all, seemingly tames the Potion Master's vicious tongue. SS/OC R/R *WIP*





Chapter One

Title Waves



Late for everything, Griee thought to herself. Well, she was really in no condition to be spiriting about on a broomstick this early in the morning or, more recently, any other time of day. Surely in her in near thirty years she had earned the right to take her time. Foolishly bounding up to the front steps had left her wincing from the dwelling pain in her ribs. Less than halfway to Dumbledore's office, she was forced to slow her pace. She was only able to take shallow breaths and knew it wouldn't be in her best interest to arrive before Albus doubled over and gulping air. Yes, she thought, there's no sense in alarming the old man. Her second thought was closer to truth. If the news of her attack hadn't severely alarmed him, she doubted he would have extended such a warm, if not vaguely authoritative, invitation to Hogwarts.



Lost in thought and dulled with pain, she rounded a corner haphazardly and nearly collided with a set of very black and very old fashioned robes worn by a very tall and very forbidding figure. She stepped back, out of his immediate personal space, but the dark man was not appeased.



"Who are you," he hissed. The severe and reprimanding glare he pinned her with was almost comical. Try me, she thought and chuckled softly. "Have I said something humorous," he demanded.



"Humorous?" She questioned. "You've yet to say anything remotely polite, let alone humorous." She chuckled again and began to walk past him, onward to Dumbledore's office. He shifted onto his right foot and blocked her path.



"Regardless of my manners," he snarled, "you haven't answered my question. Who are you?" He eyed her suspiciously. If you only knew, she thought.



"I am here to meet with Headmaster Dumbledore and thanks to you, and your charm," she added, under her breath, "I am late. Step aside," she ordered. It was only then that she realised her commanding tone was unwise. Had she really gotten so used to her status? After having recently had an occasion to truly demonstrate her awesome power, she had begun to accept her responsibility and her titles. Titles and power this man knew nothing about.



"Well then, allow me to accompany you," he sneered. Is he afraid I'm going to steal the silver, she wondered. At any rate, she was in no mood to argue. She once again began moving toward the Headmaster's office. Keeping up with the dark man's ground eating strides proved difficult and she was visibly paler by the time they neared the guarding gargoyle statue. Ignorant of her injuries, the dark man attributed her pallor to his imposing presence. He turned to her, waiting on the password. Not much of a test, dark man, she internally snapped at him.



"Peppermint quills," she chirped and the statue leapt aside, permitting their entrance. The dark man glared even harder at her. She only offered a small smile in return. As the stairs made their way to the office door, Griee attempted to catch her breath and smooth back the ever-loosening chignon of her wavy mass of red hair. The dark man scoffed from behind at her display of vanity. He may be content with that black mop, she smirked, but I'll be damned if I look any more dishevelled.



When they entered the headmaster's office, the old wizard stood before his massive, cluttered desk and welcomed them both in with offers of lemon drops; which they both refused. He approached the slightly wheezing and paled witch first. Taking her into a gentle hug—she had irrationally feared a fierce embrace—he whispered into her ear.



"I'm so glad you're safe, my dearest." Stepping back, he nodded to the sinister figure that stood only a little ways behind Griee. "And I see you've met our potions master. How kind of you, Severus, to attend to our visitor." Severus began to protest, he attended to no one. But the witch interrupted him.



"Yes," she smiled, "terribly kind." She emphasised the adverb and shot a pointed look at the man named Severus. The headmaster cleared his throat and an enchanted coat rack wobbled over to the group. Unclasping the sterling pin at her throat, she shrugged off the silvery blue cloak and placed it on a peg. As if delighted by her offering, the coat rack danced back over to its corner after making a quick bow to her. Severus frowned at the furniture as it made obeisance for the woman. Unconsciously, he noted the antique cut and brocading of her midnight blue dress. The dress revealed little, only a graceful neck that fed into her softly protruding collarbones and hints of freckled shoulders. Were it not for her quick tongue and obvious wealth, he would have guessed her a Weasley.



"Allow me to make a formal introduction," Albus smiled and took position between them. Here it comes, thought Griee. Any wizard worth his wand would know the implications of her titles. Silently, she implored Albus to get it over with. Expecting the eldest and ranking be introduced first, as aristocratic tradition held, Severus readied his posture and called forth his most snide smirk. He barely concealed his shock as the headmaster turned to the woman and bowed his head. "Please allow me to present Severus Snape, Potions Master and Professor of Hogwarts School." Albus straightened and turned to face Severus. "Severus Snape," he began, with mock formality. The twinkle in his eyes hinted at his amusement to see the sharp tongued Snape at a loss for words. "You stand before Griee Morganae," seeing Snape was confused but still unimpressed, he continued. "Brena and Illuminatus."



Griee stood still. At the least, she expected to return a bow. At most, she would have to offer her hand to this…gentleman. She was truly surprised yet none too distressed, when Snape cocked his head at an odd angle to glare at Dumbledore. A most unfortunate angle for that particular head to positioned, Griee thought as she studied his features in profile. His limp, jet black hair had fought its way out of the black ribbon he tied at the nape of his neck. His beakish nose was garishly backlit by the corner fire grate and his scowl only added severity to his already angular bone structure. He spoke harshly and accusingly.



"She's a Bren?!" He spat.

"Bren-ah, yes. And Illuminatus," Dumbledore added. Not waiting for further comment and seemingly pleased with his Potions Master's stunned silence, he turned back to Griee. "Minister Fudge will be here in the morning. I'll summon a house elf to see you to your rooms. I think you'll find them most pleasant," He smiled warmly at her, ignoring the man slowly recovering his wits in the background. His smile faded as he thought of something to add. "Should I send Madam Pomfrey later this evening to," he began but was interrupted by her gentle refusal.

"No use in it, Albus. Time heals all," she paused and added, "Well, almost all." A house elf, clad in strategically placed oven rags, appeared and retrieved Griee's cloak.

"Mistress is most lucky and most worthy and will be most pleased at her rooms!" The elf beamed up at her. The two departed for her rooms, leaving behind a very amused headmaster and very upset potions master.