I stormed down the hallway again, cursing and weeping. I wandered the school for several hours, trying to calm down enough to go back to bed. Just as I felt I was weary enough to sleep, I rounded a corner and came face to face with Severus. He stood at one of the long windows in the corridor, gazing out at the night sky. He looked more peaceful than I had ever seen him, and I suddenly wanted his company so badly I couldn't stand it. I stepped next to him, pressing my burning cheek against the cool window.
~~~~~~~
Snape studied the woman beside him carefully, remembering her reaction to Dumbledore's announcement. She couldn't know, not yet, that the very nature of Slytherin House had begun to change during the war. As the students she had known left Hogwarts, most to serve in the wars, fewer and fewer students like Malfoy entered the school each year. The Death Eaters marched across the land, taking with them any and all that would swear allegiance to Voldemort. Many such families had withdrawn their children, or never sent them at all; these children were sent to Durmstrang, the only wizarding school in the world to convert entirely to instruction in the Dark Arts.
Incoming students Sorted into the house tended more and more toward a sort of ruthless drive toward justice at all costs; they were disposed to logic, rationality, a cold impartiality, and an unwavering standard of conduct. Interestingly, Snape reflected, they were not always above violating their own code of ethics to exact justice on wrongdoers; minor ills were often ignored in favor of a greater cure, but that cure was always measured out without passion or regret.
He turned to her, choosing not to mention the obvious traces of tears on her cheeks. "Shall we have that chat now, Professor?"
She nodded, distracted. He strode down the hall toward his office, and then noticed she wasn't following him. He paused. "Professor? In my office?"
She shook her head, a single curt motion. "No, Severus. You were kind enough to extend your hospitality for our last conversation. Allow me to extend mine now." She crooked a finger at him, turned on one heel and swept back toward her chambers.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~Anne~
It amused me to see Severus so distinctly uncomfortable in my rooms. He chose a seat in the corner furthest from the fire, in deepest shadow. I arched a brow at him and jerked my head toward the seat next to mine.
"It'll be a bit hard to talk to you if you're hiding in the dark, Severus." He glowered momentarily, and grudgingly moved to a more comfortable seat near the hearth. I poured two cups of strong Turkish coffee, handed him one.
"So. Are you supposed to convince me that Slytherin is my long lost home? The place I was always meant to be?" I couldn't keep the sarcasm from seeping out between my clenched teeth.
He wasn't amused. "Professor Llewellyn. I would hope that you are able to maintain something of the open and inquisitive nature you had at school. Otherwise, this might be a very unpleasant experience indeed."
His words struck me, a slap in the face more effective than any physical blow. I fidgeted, feeling like I was back in his class again and had just melted my cauldron. I suddenly realized how Neville must have felt, all those years.
"You're right, of course, Severus. I apologize for my...reluctance."
He nodded an acknowledgment of my words. "It is understandable. The Slytherin of your time was not, perhaps, a desirable situation. However, I think that you will find the students have changed over time. There are a few of that ilk left, but the age of the Malfoys, I fear, has ended."
He sounded almost sad. "Severus. Do you miss them? Malfoy, and Crabbe, and Goyle– that lot? I wouldn't have thought you cared for any of your students." Why was I teasing this man?
"Do not mistake impartiality for uncaring, Anne. I did care for my students, but in a different way perhaps than Minerva cared for hers. However. I cannot say, in honesty, that I liked most of my students." His voice was dour and dry, like leaves underfoot.
"I wouldn't have thought that of you, either. We always thought you approved of their conduct."
"No. Oh, on rare occasions I found their actions...amusing. For the most part, they were nothing like the Slytherin of my own time."
I didn't know what to say. My impressions of Snape had, apparently, been mistaken all those years. I was curious, now, and interested. "I take it you have plans, for Slytherin."
"Indeed. And I feel that you would be most useful in carrying out those plans. That is why I agreed with Dumbledore's assessment."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~First Day~
Hermione led the new crop of first-years into the Great Hall. The students were nervous, chattering amongst themselves, overwhelmed by the spelled ceiling and the long rows of unfamiliar faces. Dumbledore rose at the front of the room, his hand raised in greeting. After a brief introduction, Dumbledore explained the Sorting process. Hermione unrolled the long scroll of names, calling the first student to take her place on the stool.
The other students shuffled and whispered, debating the merits of each house. Snape could hear a few words of their conversation, he winced visibly at the frequent linkage of "Slytherin" and "Malfoy" and "Death-Eater." He turned to the veiled woman beside him, whispered in her ear. She nodded slowly, scanning the crowd with black-rimmed eyes.
The ceremony wore on and on. Twenty new Slytherin, the largest group since years before the war, took their seats at the far right-hand table under banners of brilliant green. Dumbledore rose again, waving for silence.
"Before we proceed to dinner, I would like to introduce several new faculty members. Professor Granger, Transfiguration and head of Ravenclaw." He paused for thunderous applause.
"Professor Weasely, Charms and head of Hufflepuff." Ron rose to shouts and cheers.
"Professor Potter, Defense Against the Dark Arts, head of Gryffindor." The applause was deafening, ringing around the room, on and on. Dumbledore finally motioned for silence.
"And finally, Professor Llewellyn, Muggle Studies and second head of Slytherin."
Anne rose, dropping her face veil to reveal her scarred face. The Great Hall fell silent; several students gasped aloud at her appearance. She stood, silent and grim, feeling the weight of their disapproval press against her. Harry started to rise; she saw Hermione drag him back into his seat, shaking her head.
As one, the students seemed to draw a long breath. The Hall erupted, students stamping and cheering and whistling. The Slytherin students shouted loudest, the older students throwing caps into the air. Anne was visibly shaken by the waves of sounds breaking against her ears, gripping the edge of the table to fight back a sudden panic. She sat, trembling, and ducked her head.
Snape nudged her foot under the table. She turned her head slightly toward him, embarrassed. "Do lift your head and sit up, Professor Llewellyn. That applause is for you; try to be worthy of it." She raised her head, grasping at the remains of her old family pride. Food appeared on the tables, ending the great sea of noise.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~Anne~
I nudged Severus, leaned closer and muttered, "What was that about?"
He stared at me, eyes round in amazement. "Surely, you don't mean to tell me your grandmother kept you so sheltered. Did you not read a newspaper, talk to anyone, since the end of the war?"
"Not really. I was injured at first, remember? Then I just wanted to hide from the world. No one here has really talked about the war at all." I was deeply confused.
Severus narrowed his eyes at me. "You're famous, Anne. You're a hero. Every child in this Hall tonight knows what you sacrificed to save the world." He watched me, a glint of interest in his eyes.
"No." I didn't believe him. "That mission failed, Severus."
He shook his head, irritated. "No one told you, did they? That the imam you were supposed to target was killed during the distraction that your...accident...created? You're a walking advertisement for the Ministry counterintelligence, Anne— you should get used to it before classes start." He turned his attention back to his dinner; I couldn't suppress the feeling that he was deeply amused by my ignorance of my own history.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?" I struggled to keep myself under control, to keep my voice from climbing into the stratosphere. I gripped the table edge again. Severus glanced at me and carefully set down his silverware. He gripped my elbow below the edge of the table.
"Listen to me, Professor." His voice was silky, just under the level of the noise in the hall. "I would recommend that you not dwell on your level of information any more than is absolutely necessary. There are many things about which you are not aware, things about yourself, things about your purpose in the war." He squeezed my arm, wrenching a slight gasp from me.
"Now. Eat your dinner. We meet our students afterward, and it will not do for the head of their house to be in less than optimum condition." He released my arm, lifted his silverware, and returned to his meal.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I watched a swarm of students chattering and laughing in the Slytherin common room. Snape and I stood like twin shadows at the front of the room, waiting for the prefects to finish leading the new first years into the room. I felt light-headed, disconnected from the events around me. I put it down to nervousness and the shock of the evening meal, but I wondered if the fire was stoked too high– I was smothering in the intense heat of the room. Perhaps the heat was causing the slowly building nausea as well. I fervently hoped this initial meeting would be brief; I longed to escape to my own rooms and rest.
Once the room was full, seemingly to the rafters, Snape stepped forward and raised his hand. The room quieted, all eyes on him expectantly.
"I will not waste your time with welcoming speeches or displays of insincere affection. You are all here because you have shown talents of the type that we in Slytherin find most important.
"However," he glowered around the room, catching several students' attention. "You will find that this House bears very little resemblance to what you might have heard." He allowed a few moments of murmured conversation throughout the room before waving for silence again.
"Before you allow yourself to be distracted by your fellows, I would reintroduce the other head of our house." He gestured me forward.
"For all of you who are returning students, I will remind you that you will be expected to treat Professor Llewellyn with the same...respect...that you show toward me."
The students nodded as one. Snape glowered around the room for a moment more, then turned on his heel, gestured me through the door and started to follow me out.
"Cripple." The word hissed across the room, a whip crack in the silent room. My back stiffened as I swung around to face the room. In the moment before Snape turned on the room, I saw an ugly look pass between several of the older students. One, a thin dark boy that I reckoned to be at least a sixth year, sneered at me. Snape rounded, his face alive with fury, and pointed at the thin boy.
"Mr. McBaine, you will report to my office immediately after breakfast tomorrow to receive your detention. Fifty points from Slytherin for gross insubordination to a professor." He snarled the words at his–our students.
"Anything further from you, Mr. McBaine? Your friends, perhaps? No? See that you mind your attitude, all of you." He whirled again, guiding me out the door with a hidden hand against my lower back.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Snape closed the heavy portrait door, allowing himself the luxury of slamming the door quite hard. Anne stood by a window, her forehead pressed to the cool glass. He felt a strange pressure in his chest; she was...lovely. The moonlight pouring in through the long sheet of glass carved her face into pale marble, angles and planes thrown into negative relief by the bluish light. Her eyes glowed faintly, the frosty green almost white in the night shadows. He saw a frown crease her brow, the delicate lines between her eyes wrinkled, and she pressed her fingers to the spot briefly.
He watched her unpin her veil and let the translucent fabric fall under her chin. He winced slightly as the moonlight threw her scarred visage into sharp relief; without intending to, his gaze fell onto her crippled hand, clutching into the sleeve of her robe. He stepped behind her, heard the agonizing rasp of her breathing for the first time. He paused, confused. She drew another breath, then almost strangled in a fit of coughing.
He reached for her instinctively as she swayed on her feet. He caught her under the elbows firmly, supporting her as she continued to cough. She leaned back against him, her shoulders shaking, the back of one hand pressed to her lips. Heat poured off her, even from that distance. Her face was clammy and shone with a thin layer of sweat.
His breath caught as her scent struck him; exotically spicy yet oddly familiar, cinnamon and cardamom and soft sandalwood swirled together throughout her veils. He lowered his face slightly, nearly touching the top of her head. He waited until the coughing subsided, but frowned as her breath continued to wheeze in her chest.
"Anne. How long have you been ill?"