Not Like Home

Sighing, she leaned against the heavy oak door, and glanced around her room. She supposed it to be beautiful, with its tapestries, polished furniture, and paintings, but she missed the constant breeze on Dei'leos, rustling her hair as she slept in the treetops.

Steeling herself, she walked to what she supposed to be her bathroom, and stared. It was lit with sconces, decorated in pale green with a shower, a small bathing 'puddle', and a lavatory. She sighed again, waved her hand toward her hair, which began unbraiding itself, as she began to disrobe. Clad only in a pair of light brown doeskin undergarments, she tossed on a robe made of the same material and started to brush her waist-length hair as a knock sounded from her door. Setting aside her hairbrush, she waved her hand, and turned as the door opened.

Snape stood in her doorway, transfixed by the sight of her hands absentmindedly tying and tightening the sash of her robe. Barefoot, she crossed the room to him.

"Yes, Prof'essor Snape? What is it you wish?"

Swallowing back a response as hot as the flames in her fireplace, Snape cut off his emotions and stared coldly into her eyes.

"Professor Dumbledore asked me to give you these," he snarled, thrusting four heavy volumes into her arms.

Without missing a beat, she balanced the heavy books and graced him with a slight nod.

"Thank you, Prof'essor. These will be of some use. Good night."

And with that, she shut the door firmly, leaving a breathless Snape to find his way back to the dungeons and try to force the vision of her firm breasts in the tight top from his thoughts.

Sighing deeply yet again, the beautiful Elf made her way to her four poster bed, pausing only to place the heavy books on one of the many tables in her rooms. Pushing her robe from her body and her long hair back from her face, she climbed under her bedcovers with reluctance, whispered a soft word in Elvish, and as the lights doused themselves, she fell asleep, unaccustomed to the crackle of a fireplace.

"Damn that woman!" he stormed to himself, "And damn Albus for passing me over, again! He knows I am more than qualified for that position, and he has the gall to bring a foreigner, a house-elf's cousin at that, for my position. Damn them both!"

Throwing himself into his favorite armchair by the crackling flames, Severus Snape poured the entire contents of Ogden's FireWhiskey down his throat, desperate to cool his ardor for the new teacher and reclaim his sanity.

"Damn her!" he whispered as he sunk into a dreamless stupor with a vision of silver hair his as last conscious thought.
The next morning, the sixth-year Gryffindors trudged their way to the dungeons for their hated Potions lesson with none other than their hated enemies, House Slytherin.

"Oh, cheer up, Harry, Ron. It can't honestly be any worse than last year," said Hermione, trying to cheer up her two best friends.

Harry grimaced, remembering the loss of Sirius, and his summer with the terrified Dursleys.

As they entered the classroom, Hermione whispered, "After Potions, we have Defense Against the Dark Arts, with the new professor. Use that to get you through this, Harry."

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for speaking without being spoken to," the bane of their existence had made a silent entrance, and sneered in the trio's direction.

"Today we will be preparing simple Appendage Potions. You will be partnered into pairs. Malfoy..." Harry cringed with the expected partnering with his arch enemy, "...and Goyle.

Harry let out his breath.

"Parkinson, Kerrigan. Weasley, Potter. Granger, Longbottom...." Snape didn't notice his students' astonished stares at his choice of partners. Bringing his attention back to his immobile class, Snape sneered, "Or did I pair you incorrectly? MOVE!"

With a flurry of movement, the entire class scurried to their partners and began their work. Settling in his chair, Snape prepared himself for anything from multiple legs to less than normal eyes. Surprisingly, his class was going well, and he allowed his mind to focus on the new professor.
"Prof'essor S'nape?"

He shut his eyes as her low voice sent involuntary shivers along his spine. As he gritted his teeth, he turned to her.

"Yes?" he snarled acidly.

She looked unperturbed at his tone, yet his sharp eyes caught the nearly imperceptible squaring of her shoulders.

"I have need of your po'tions skills. Please, come with me, and I will show you."

As she turned and walked down the hall, Snape couldn't help but admire the view, though it killed him to admit it. Realizing they were heading to her private rooms, a small, uncontrollable thrill of excitement raced through his veins.

/What the hell is wrong with me?/ thought Snape in the back of his mind.

"This, Prof'essor, is what I need your help with," said Sania, holding up a small, golden-brown seed, almost reverently, in her palm.

Snape raised an eyebrow sardonically.

"Herbology is not my subject, Professor Reisson."

"In private, my name is Sania. This," she held up her palm, not noticing his reaction to the word 'private', "is a seed of a mathi'rien tree, one that that grows to great heights."

"Why do you need me?" he asked, intrigued, crossing his arms nonetheless.

She looked at him, then sighed and waved a hand at her beautiful rooms.

"No doubt, these rooms are quite lovely and pleasing, but for me, they are a prison. Gilded, perhaps, but a prison nonetheless; I have spent my entire existence in the open, in the trees. It takes hundreds of years for mathi'rien to mature to a proper height. I would ask you to brew a po'tion to accel'erate the aging pro'cess."

Nodding his head, Snape answered, "It shouldn't take long, a week or so to perfect it to your requirements."

Pleased at his assistance, Sania beamed at him and gave him a little hug.