4: The Colour of Magic.
Gryfindor had Charms with Hufflepuff first thing on a Monday. And Professor Flitwick was in for a surprise. Gwen, it seemed, didn't have a wand. "Didn't you get one from Ollivanders?" Hermione whispered to Gwen when Flitwick had his back turned.
"Who's Ollivander?" Gwen was getting increasingly worried. She was going to look a complete fool in front of half her year. Great.
"Right class. This term we will begin by learning some charms which will help you in your Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons." He took a tiny shirt, presumably one of his own, from under a book and showed it to the whole class. "You will see that you each have a single glove in front of you."
Gwen was purposely keeping her hands under the desk.
"The Rigidus Charm will render the item completely immovable for at least three minutes. This is a very useful charm if you are trying to escape someone or render his or her wand hand useless without doing any harm to your opponent. Please get into pairs and don the gloves before you for your friend to practice on."
There was a scuffle as the class put the gloves on their non-wand hands.
"Now. Repeat after me. Rigidus-totalus."
Hermione pointed her wand at Gwen's hand. "Rigidus-totalus." Gwen felt the material quiver and after a couple of moments go rigid. She smiled up at her friend.
"It works!" Gwen was amazed at the effect of the words although slightly disconcerted about the inability to move her hand within the glove.
"Do you want to try using my wand?"
Gwen frowned. She didn't want to break her friends wand...afterall she didn't know how to use one...but she did want to try out the spell.
The glove had gone limp again, "Hold out your hand." Hermione held it out with trepidation, Gwen licked her lips, and here goes nothing she thought. Concentrating on her friends hand she murmured, "Rigidus-totalus."
Hermione feel to the floor with a thud.
Gwen felt bile rising in her throat and tears pricking at her eyes, Hermione. Hermione. What have I done? Gwen clutched at her throat desperately willing her friend to her feet.
"Clear the way now, come along." Professor Flitwick looked at Hermione through his glasses and shook his head. Looking up at Gwen he spoke with a hint of awe in his voice, "I don't know how you managed to do this at your age, have you been reading up on the subject?" Gwen shook her head numbly. "This is a very advanced spell... But don't worry my dear," he patted her side in comfort, "It's nothing that can't be fixed." A crowd had gathered around and were looking at her with mixed expressions of amazement and fear. "Perhaps you should let me take a look at your wand my dear. There is a chance that it may be faulty."
"Um..." Gwen swallowed back a rising sense of dread, "I – I don't have one yet."
Flitwick looked to Gwen's tear stained face and back to the body on the floor. "I think we had better go and see the Headmaster, hmmm?"
Gwen nodded biting her salty lip and followed the little man out of the room as the class broke out in fervent whispers as they watched the body of Hermione float out of the room towards the infirmary. Her perfect features turned to stone.
Dumbledore had known that her powers would be great but he hadn't realised just how untamed they would be. No doubt the whole school would soon be talking about her, and he didn't know if all that talk would be good. He let out a long calming breath. The rest of today's lessons would have to be missed, of course. Hastily he made arrangements for the other Professors to be informed of Gwen's absence though not the reason behind it. He ordered the crumb-scattered plates to be taken away and another pot of tea to be brought up.
Turning to the slightly calmer girl, he spoke softly, "My dear, would you kindly deliver this letter to Professor Snape for me as you return to your dormitory? I believe that he is in the dungeons." He wrote a brief note, folded it, sealed it, and handed it to Gwen over his desk.
"Of course, Headmaster." As Gwen stepped onto the stone staircase leading from the Headmaster's study she heard him say 'Please sit down Professor, we have grave matters to discuss...' before the door shut behind her.
Severus was working in the private lab behind his classroom. He had no lessons first thing on a Monday morning, which was just as well because he wasn't a morning person at the best of times and Mondays were his least favourite day of the week; they meant he had to put his research away and get back to attempting to fill empty heads with knowledge they would forget as soon as they left his presence.
He paused for a moment. Relishing the silence that the dungeons allowed him. He smirked, safe in the knowledge that no student in their right mind would dare to venture down here of their own free will.
He turned back to his experiment. It had turned a deep beige, perfect. Deftly, he filtered off three vials and began to take notes.
The rest of Gryfindor trooped into double History of Magic alongside the equally reluctant Ravenclaws. Everyone had been eager to hear the news about Gwen over their Irish stew lunch but the novelty had worn off when they discovered they had Professor Binns next.
Hermione had recovered quickly and anxious not to miss any further classes had returned to the Great Hall for lunch after only a short stay in the infirmary, the spell had required no more than a simple antidote to restore her and luckily there had been some in ready supply. She had thought that once everyone found out about what Gwen had done they would be horrified. Turn against her even. But strangely, it had only made them more interested in the mysterious new girl. Fred and George seemed to be particularly interested and they went off with some of the older boys nudging one another and winking.
Harry, of course, thought he had found his soul mate. He sighed. She was clever, cheerful, attractive and prone to strange power-outbursts. They had so much in common. Ron gave him a disgusted look.
"For Merlin's sake Harry, you barely even know her. She's probably really horrible once you get to know her..." Hermione rolled her eyes; there was no way that Ron was going to convince Harry that Gwen was anything less than an angel.
Gwen was lost. Surely Dumbledore had known that she wouldn't know her way to the dungeons? Why hadn't she asked him for directions? Thankfully, Gwen had a rather thorough knowledge of Gothic horror films. Well, thorough enough to know that the desperate heroine always finds herself trapped in the dungeons...and the dungeons were always down a long damp, staircase.
Just like the one that was now staring her innocently in the face, infact.
Snape's experiments were not going as he would have liked. He had thought that by adding a few drops of dragon's blood the potion would gain the potency it needed. However, there was still something missing...something a dragon couldn't possess....
Lost in thought he twirled his quill around in his fingers absently.
The door at the back of the classroom was closed. Gwen chewed the side of her lip thoughtfully. Should she knock? He was a teacher after all. Then again, she was the daughter of Voldemort – would He knock? She thought not. Undecided, she knocked briefly to give a bit of warning and strode straight into the back room.
The second the knob started to turn, Snape whirled around ready to attack whoever was fool enough to disturb him with a mouthful of insults and sinister looks.
Eyes as black as a crow in the night sky locked onto crystalline azure.
"Sorry to disturb you Professor," she smiled sedately, keeping eye contact, "The Headmaster asked me to bring you this." She held out the folded parchment.
Snape narrowed his eyes, he was doing his best 'Nasty Professor Snape' look but she just wasn't cowering like she was supposed to, damn her.
Gwen noticed the complex apparatus out of the corner of her eye. Just as Snape was about to snatch the note from her hand, she turned smoothly to the side and peered at the coloured liquids travelling slowly through the maze of glass tubing.
Carefully, she reached out a hand to run over the wide bowl of a flask containing a deep burgundy fluid. It felt warm to her touch as she gazed at it.
"Do you know anything about Potions Miss Silverine?" Snape was by her side, looking at her with interest.
"Nothing." Her fingers carried on exploring the equipment.
He sighed. "Nothing? What about Charms? Arithmancy?"
She shook her head.
"Transfiguration?"
"Nope."
"Herbology?"
"Professor," Gwen turned around to look at Snape, "I don't mean to be rude, but wouldn't it be easier if you just assumed that I know absolutely nothing about magic? It was only a week or so ago that I found out magic existed at all."
Snape sat down heavily in a dark leather chair by his cold hearth. He had had an owl this morning from Lucius;
"I am coming to Hogwarts to collect the girl at 12 o'clock this Sunday. You will deliver her to our Lord. L. M."
He snorted quietly. Short and sweet as ever Lucius, he thought bitterly. Who knows what 'his Lord' would do if the girl didn't meet his standards. And if she knew no magic...
"Give me the note."
Gwen was just about to hand it over to the brooding figure in the armchair before her, when she paused.
Tilting her head to one side and narrowing her eyes quizzically, she asked "Whose side are you on? That of Dumbledore or that of my father?"
Snape snorted more loudly this time. He should have known she would get straight to the point. He ran a hand through his long hair as she sat cross-legged in the chair opposite his.
"A very good question Miss Silverine." She rested her chin on her hand and regarded him silently. "One to which I am not sure that I know the answer. Certainly, your father uses me as he pleases whenever it suits him, and I, of course, am always at his beck and call..." He ran an absent finger over the mark on his arm, thankfully covered by long black sleeves. "However, Albus also finds me useful...when he has need of information about the plans of the other side...but he has been very good to me...better than I could have hoped..." his eyes clouded over, as if they were looking at something far away in the distance, "...but if I had to choose between sides...if my life or that of someone I loved was at stake...I'm not sure that I could trust myself to make the right decision..." his breathing became so shallow that Gwen couldn't be sure that he was still alive except for the obviously living emotion in his eyes.
She tried to sort through this new information. He was in a similar position to her really. At some point she would have to choose between blood and the right thing to do. Though he evidently had a much clearer idea of the perils that lay ahead for them both.
She shivered. How could he live down here?
Something cold and hard nudged against Snape's hand, bringing his eyes reluctantly back to focus. Looking down he saw a short, unpatterned glass filled with a dark liquid hovering expectantly next to his hand. Gwen smiled at him when he looked up at her frowning, "Thought you might need a drink." She sipped at a similar glass filled with a creamy beige liquid.
Tentatively he lifted the glass to his lips and tasted...surprisingly...a very fine brandy. "Did you...?"
"Uh-huh. I hope you like brandy, it's the same one we had in Dumbledore's office, and you look a bit like a brandy person." She saw him look at her glass, his expression repulsed, "Baileys – I didn't really like the brandy." She wrinkled up her nose in distaste.
Snape swallowed. Where had those glasses come from? He didn't own any like that and he was pretty sure that the other staff didn't either. He didn't even know what Baileys was.
"H-?" he coughed. He hadn't realised just how dry his throat had gone until he tried to speak. "How did you do this?"
Gwen tucked her hair back behind her ear, "I sort of got a picture of what I wanted in my head and just willed it to appear...it's all a bit vague really," she laughed, "Just like magic!"
As soon as Dumbledore had called him, Ollivander apparated to the Hogwarts gates.
Performing simple magic without a wand was something all powerful wizards and witches were able to do, but performing complex charms at the age of just sixteen was totally unheard of. And very frightening.
Scurrying up the stairs to the Headmaster's office he shuddered to think what Albus wanted him to do.
Hermione was getting anxious. She was trying to revise for the OWL's but she couldn't help thinking about what was happening to Gwen. Since Charms she hadn't seen her all day, or heard any news about her, and it was almost dinnertime.
Savagely stroking Crookshanks, she pondered over what it would be like to have a friend to confide in. Of course, she could talk to Harry and Ron, but there were some things you just couldn't talk to them about. Girl stuff. She sighed as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. No matter what she tried she just didn't feel comfortable with the way she looked. She imagined what it would feel like to have the ease of self that Gwen had. The way she walked and smiled were so naturally charming and relaxed; she wanted to, but it was impossible to hate her. Women and men alike were instantly won over, briefly she contemplated what it would it would be like to posses that sort of power.
She bolted upright and paced the dorm. Where was she? Dumbledore wouldn't have expelled her surely? After all, she had recovered and Gwen was inexperienced. What if she was too embarrassed to show her face again and had just left? No, that wasn't like her.
'How do you know?' a voice in the back of her mind demanded, 'You've only known her five minutes!' But Hermione felt like she'd known her a lifetime and she hadn't ever been known to rush into things as important as friendship.
The growing weight of dread on Snape's shoulders had lifted and left him with a slightly light-headed feeling. The natural magic the girl possessed really was astounding and went far beyond the simple magic the average student of her age was by now able to perform. She was capable of conjuring anything she had experience of, and with very little effort. In fact, she had already conjured about twenty items, big and small, and she wasn't even breathless. In fact she was grinning in a most smug manner.
The note that Dumbledore had sent him only increased his sense of serenity. He was giving him the chance to cultivate this talent after school. The cover-up being that she needed help catching up with what she had missed over the past four years. Though why, under any normal circumstances, Dumbledore should choose him over Minerva was beyond him. Snape trusted in the fact that the headmaster's word was rarely questioned, everyone would assume that whatever the reason, all would work out well in the end.
Gwen was currently working on her transfiguration skills, turning an unsuspecting clock into first a pair of pink gloves, then a chair and then a teddy bear. Snape looked up from his copy of The Daily Prophet. He wasn't really reading it of course, who could read while possibly one of the most powerful witches in history was performing right before you're very eyes? No he was merely giving her the impression that as of yet she had done nothing particularly astounding in his eyes; he was trying to prevent her ego from becoming inflated with self-importance. When the time came she would need to follow his orders without the minutest flicker of hesitation. Having said that though, he still could not resist stealing a look.
Gwen stood before her hoard of mismatching items, head tilted to one side, wondering what to produce next. The room seemed suddenly silent when her head was not full of thoughts, ideas and excitement. All that could be heard was the crackle of the candles dotted round the room and the distant echoes of activity somewhere far away above them in the castle, she couldn't even hear the occasional rustle of Snape's paper as he read it...
She went very still, breath catching in her throat. Moving only her eyes she could scan very little of the room, but she dared not move any other fibre of her being. Her body was taut with fear, Gwen felt sure that her pounding blood in her ears could be heard by that unfamiliar presence which was now in the room with her. Even inhaling seemed like too much movement in the still of the dungeons.
A hand gently brushed the hair from her neck, Gwen jumped with the suddenness of the touch. The figure had moved silently across the room and was now resting curling fingers on her shoulder form behind. Gwen tried to speak but her mouth was too dry to form any words. Her heart was racing still, but its urgency was no longer one of fear. She knew those hands; they felt just as she had thought they would. Turning slightly, she caught his smoky black eyes.
The reason that she could no longer hear Snape reading his paper was not because some magical creature had killed him and come after her but because he had left it discarded in his chair and glided to her side. The air seemed to thicken between them and though Gwen wanted to break eye contact she found that she was unable to.
Moments ticked slowly past, tension building like silken threads between them, turning into something palpable. Neither party could move, for to move would be to break the trance they had formed. Who knew what would come after this? Fear of what the unknown might hold was enough to paralyse them.
Eventually, Snape regained control of his senses and made an abrupt lunge for the fireplace in front of them. It had originally been a lunge for those flushed, parted lips, but in the last instant his mind grasped a hold on his...other parts...and changed his body's course. Thank Merlin, Snape panted to himself as he rested his damp forehead on the cold stone. He licked his dry lips, willing his pulse to subside.
He realised that Gwen was still in the room. He groaned, and not entirely from annoyance.
Feeling very awkward indeed, especially when he realised his obvious distaste for the situation, Gwen looked around for something with which to make a dignified exit. She turned over a gold clock she had conjured earlier. Thank God, it was almost time for dinner. "I – I should probably go to dinner." She cursed showing her weakness with such an obvious stammer. Angry with herself, and almost in tears from shame, she ran out of the lab and through the dungeons to the great hall not stopping once to look back.
Snape let out a shaky breath and slid to the floor.
Gryfindor had Charms with Hufflepuff first thing on a Monday. And Professor Flitwick was in for a surprise. Gwen, it seemed, didn't have a wand. "Didn't you get one from Ollivanders?" Hermione whispered to Gwen when Flitwick had his back turned.
"Who's Ollivander?" Gwen was getting increasingly worried. She was going to look a complete fool in front of half her year. Great.
"Right class. This term we will begin by learning some charms which will help you in your Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons." He took a tiny shirt, presumably one of his own, from under a book and showed it to the whole class. "You will see that you each have a single glove in front of you."
Gwen was purposely keeping her hands under the desk.
"The Rigidus Charm will render the item completely immovable for at least three minutes. This is a very useful charm if you are trying to escape someone or render his or her wand hand useless without doing any harm to your opponent. Please get into pairs and don the gloves before you for your friend to practice on."
There was a scuffle as the class put the gloves on their non-wand hands.
"Now. Repeat after me. Rigidus-totalus."
Hermione pointed her wand at Gwen's hand. "Rigidus-totalus." Gwen felt the material quiver and after a couple of moments go rigid. She smiled up at her friend.
"It works!" Gwen was amazed at the effect of the words although slightly disconcerted about the inability to move her hand within the glove.
"Do you want to try using my wand?"
Gwen frowned. She didn't want to break her friends wand...afterall she didn't know how to use one...but she did want to try out the spell.
The glove had gone limp again, "Hold out your hand." Hermione held it out with trepidation, Gwen licked her lips, and here goes nothing she thought. Concentrating on her friends hand she murmured, "Rigidus-totalus."
Hermione feel to the floor with a thud.
Gwen felt bile rising in her throat and tears pricking at her eyes, Hermione. Hermione. What have I done? Gwen clutched at her throat desperately willing her friend to her feet.
"Clear the way now, come along." Professor Flitwick looked at Hermione through his glasses and shook his head. Looking up at Gwen he spoke with a hint of awe in his voice, "I don't know how you managed to do this at your age, have you been reading up on the subject?" Gwen shook her head numbly. "This is a very advanced spell... But don't worry my dear," he patted her side in comfort, "It's nothing that can't be fixed." A crowd had gathered around and were looking at her with mixed expressions of amazement and fear. "Perhaps you should let me take a look at your wand my dear. There is a chance that it may be faulty."
"Um..." Gwen swallowed back a rising sense of dread, "I – I don't have one yet."
Flitwick looked to Gwen's tear stained face and back to the body on the floor. "I think we had better go and see the Headmaster, hmmm?"
Gwen nodded biting her salty lip and followed the little man out of the room as the class broke out in fervent whispers as they watched the body of Hermione float out of the room towards the infirmary. Her perfect features turned to stone.
Dumbledore had known that her powers would be great but he hadn't realised just how untamed they would be. No doubt the whole school would soon be talking about her, and he didn't know if all that talk would be good. He let out a long calming breath. The rest of today's lessons would have to be missed, of course. Hastily he made arrangements for the other Professors to be informed of Gwen's absence though not the reason behind it. He ordered the crumb-scattered plates to be taken away and another pot of tea to be brought up.
Turning to the slightly calmer girl, he spoke softly, "My dear, would you kindly deliver this letter to Professor Snape for me as you return to your dormitory? I believe that he is in the dungeons." He wrote a brief note, folded it, sealed it, and handed it to Gwen over his desk.
"Of course, Headmaster." As Gwen stepped onto the stone staircase leading from the Headmaster's study she heard him say 'Please sit down Professor, we have grave matters to discuss...' before the door shut behind her.
Severus was working in the private lab behind his classroom. He had no lessons first thing on a Monday morning, which was just as well because he wasn't a morning person at the best of times and Mondays were his least favourite day of the week; they meant he had to put his research away and get back to attempting to fill empty heads with knowledge they would forget as soon as they left his presence.
He paused for a moment. Relishing the silence that the dungeons allowed him. He smirked, safe in the knowledge that no student in their right mind would dare to venture down here of their own free will.
He turned back to his experiment. It had turned a deep beige, perfect. Deftly, he filtered off three vials and began to take notes.
The rest of Gryfindor trooped into double History of Magic alongside the equally reluctant Ravenclaws. Everyone had been eager to hear the news about Gwen over their Irish stew lunch but the novelty had worn off when they discovered they had Professor Binns next.
Hermione had recovered quickly and anxious not to miss any further classes had returned to the Great Hall for lunch after only a short stay in the infirmary, the spell had required no more than a simple antidote to restore her and luckily there had been some in ready supply. She had thought that once everyone found out about what Gwen had done they would be horrified. Turn against her even. But strangely, it had only made them more interested in the mysterious new girl. Fred and George seemed to be particularly interested and they went off with some of the older boys nudging one another and winking.
Harry, of course, thought he had found his soul mate. He sighed. She was clever, cheerful, attractive and prone to strange power-outbursts. They had so much in common. Ron gave him a disgusted look.
"For Merlin's sake Harry, you barely even know her. She's probably really horrible once you get to know her..." Hermione rolled her eyes; there was no way that Ron was going to convince Harry that Gwen was anything less than an angel.
Gwen was lost. Surely Dumbledore had known that she wouldn't know her way to the dungeons? Why hadn't she asked him for directions? Thankfully, Gwen had a rather thorough knowledge of Gothic horror films. Well, thorough enough to know that the desperate heroine always finds herself trapped in the dungeons...and the dungeons were always down a long damp, staircase.
Just like the one that was now staring her innocently in the face, infact.
Snape's experiments were not going as he would have liked. He had thought that by adding a few drops of dragon's blood the potion would gain the potency it needed. However, there was still something missing...something a dragon couldn't possess....
Lost in thought he twirled his quill around in his fingers absently.
The door at the back of the classroom was closed. Gwen chewed the side of her lip thoughtfully. Should she knock? He was a teacher after all. Then again, she was the daughter of Voldemort – would He knock? She thought not. Undecided, she knocked briefly to give a bit of warning and strode straight into the back room.
The second the knob started to turn, Snape whirled around ready to attack whoever was fool enough to disturb him with a mouthful of insults and sinister looks.
Eyes as black as a crow in the night sky locked onto crystalline azure.
"Sorry to disturb you Professor," she smiled sedately, keeping eye contact, "The Headmaster asked me to bring you this." She held out the folded parchment.
Snape narrowed his eyes, he was doing his best 'Nasty Professor Snape' look but she just wasn't cowering like she was supposed to, damn her.
Gwen noticed the complex apparatus out of the corner of her eye. Just as Snape was about to snatch the note from her hand, she turned smoothly to the side and peered at the coloured liquids travelling slowly through the maze of glass tubing.
Carefully, she reached out a hand to run over the wide bowl of a flask containing a deep burgundy fluid. It felt warm to her touch as she gazed at it.
"Do you know anything about Potions Miss Silverine?" Snape was by her side, looking at her with interest.
"Nothing." Her fingers carried on exploring the equipment.
He sighed. "Nothing? What about Charms? Arithmancy?"
She shook her head.
"Transfiguration?"
"Nope."
"Herbology?"
"Professor," Gwen turned around to look at Snape, "I don't mean to be rude, but wouldn't it be easier if you just assumed that I know absolutely nothing about magic? It was only a week or so ago that I found out magic existed at all."
Snape sat down heavily in a dark leather chair by his cold hearth. He had had an owl this morning from Lucius;
"I am coming to Hogwarts to collect the girl at 12 o'clock this Sunday. You will deliver her to our Lord. L. M."
He snorted quietly. Short and sweet as ever Lucius, he thought bitterly. Who knows what 'his Lord' would do if the girl didn't meet his standards. And if she knew no magic...
"Give me the note."
Gwen was just about to hand it over to the brooding figure in the armchair before her, when she paused.
Tilting her head to one side and narrowing her eyes quizzically, she asked "Whose side are you on? That of Dumbledore or that of my father?"
Snape snorted more loudly this time. He should have known she would get straight to the point. He ran a hand through his long hair as she sat cross-legged in the chair opposite his.
"A very good question Miss Silverine." She rested her chin on her hand and regarded him silently. "One to which I am not sure that I know the answer. Certainly, your father uses me as he pleases whenever it suits him, and I, of course, am always at his beck and call..." He ran an absent finger over the mark on his arm, thankfully covered by long black sleeves. "However, Albus also finds me useful...when he has need of information about the plans of the other side...but he has been very good to me...better than I could have hoped..." his eyes clouded over, as if they were looking at something far away in the distance, "...but if I had to choose between sides...if my life or that of someone I loved was at stake...I'm not sure that I could trust myself to make the right decision..." his breathing became so shallow that Gwen couldn't be sure that he was still alive except for the obviously living emotion in his eyes.
She tried to sort through this new information. He was in a similar position to her really. At some point she would have to choose between blood and the right thing to do. Though he evidently had a much clearer idea of the perils that lay ahead for them both.
She shivered. How could he live down here?
Something cold and hard nudged against Snape's hand, bringing his eyes reluctantly back to focus. Looking down he saw a short, unpatterned glass filled with a dark liquid hovering expectantly next to his hand. Gwen smiled at him when he looked up at her frowning, "Thought you might need a drink." She sipped at a similar glass filled with a creamy beige liquid.
Tentatively he lifted the glass to his lips and tasted...surprisingly...a very fine brandy. "Did you...?"
"Uh-huh. I hope you like brandy, it's the same one we had in Dumbledore's office, and you look a bit like a brandy person." She saw him look at her glass, his expression repulsed, "Baileys – I didn't really like the brandy." She wrinkled up her nose in distaste.
Snape swallowed. Where had those glasses come from? He didn't own any like that and he was pretty sure that the other staff didn't either. He didn't even know what Baileys was.
"H-?" he coughed. He hadn't realised just how dry his throat had gone until he tried to speak. "How did you do this?"
Gwen tucked her hair back behind her ear, "I sort of got a picture of what I wanted in my head and just willed it to appear...it's all a bit vague really," she laughed, "Just like magic!"
As soon as Dumbledore had called him, Ollivander apparated to the Hogwarts gates.
Performing simple magic without a wand was something all powerful wizards and witches were able to do, but performing complex charms at the age of just sixteen was totally unheard of. And very frightening.
Scurrying up the stairs to the Headmaster's office he shuddered to think what Albus wanted him to do.
Hermione was getting anxious. She was trying to revise for the OWL's but she couldn't help thinking about what was happening to Gwen. Since Charms she hadn't seen her all day, or heard any news about her, and it was almost dinnertime.
Savagely stroking Crookshanks, she pondered over what it would be like to have a friend to confide in. Of course, she could talk to Harry and Ron, but there were some things you just couldn't talk to them about. Girl stuff. She sighed as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. No matter what she tried she just didn't feel comfortable with the way she looked. She imagined what it would feel like to have the ease of self that Gwen had. The way she walked and smiled were so naturally charming and relaxed; she wanted to, but it was impossible to hate her. Women and men alike were instantly won over, briefly she contemplated what it would it would be like to posses that sort of power.
She bolted upright and paced the dorm. Where was she? Dumbledore wouldn't have expelled her surely? After all, she had recovered and Gwen was inexperienced. What if she was too embarrassed to show her face again and had just left? No, that wasn't like her.
'How do you know?' a voice in the back of her mind demanded, 'You've only known her five minutes!' But Hermione felt like she'd known her a lifetime and she hadn't ever been known to rush into things as important as friendship.
The growing weight of dread on Snape's shoulders had lifted and left him with a slightly light-headed feeling. The natural magic the girl possessed really was astounding and went far beyond the simple magic the average student of her age was by now able to perform. She was capable of conjuring anything she had experience of, and with very little effort. In fact, she had already conjured about twenty items, big and small, and she wasn't even breathless. In fact she was grinning in a most smug manner.
The note that Dumbledore had sent him only increased his sense of serenity. He was giving him the chance to cultivate this talent after school. The cover-up being that she needed help catching up with what she had missed over the past four years. Though why, under any normal circumstances, Dumbledore should choose him over Minerva was beyond him. Snape trusted in the fact that the headmaster's word was rarely questioned, everyone would assume that whatever the reason, all would work out well in the end.
Gwen was currently working on her transfiguration skills, turning an unsuspecting clock into first a pair of pink gloves, then a chair and then a teddy bear. Snape looked up from his copy of The Daily Prophet. He wasn't really reading it of course, who could read while possibly one of the most powerful witches in history was performing right before you're very eyes? No he was merely giving her the impression that as of yet she had done nothing particularly astounding in his eyes; he was trying to prevent her ego from becoming inflated with self-importance. When the time came she would need to follow his orders without the minutest flicker of hesitation. Having said that though, he still could not resist stealing a look.
Gwen stood before her hoard of mismatching items, head tilted to one side, wondering what to produce next. The room seemed suddenly silent when her head was not full of thoughts, ideas and excitement. All that could be heard was the crackle of the candles dotted round the room and the distant echoes of activity somewhere far away above them in the castle, she couldn't even hear the occasional rustle of Snape's paper as he read it...
She went very still, breath catching in her throat. Moving only her eyes she could scan very little of the room, but she dared not move any other fibre of her being. Her body was taut with fear, Gwen felt sure that her pounding blood in her ears could be heard by that unfamiliar presence which was now in the room with her. Even inhaling seemed like too much movement in the still of the dungeons.
A hand gently brushed the hair from her neck, Gwen jumped with the suddenness of the touch. The figure had moved silently across the room and was now resting curling fingers on her shoulder form behind. Gwen tried to speak but her mouth was too dry to form any words. Her heart was racing still, but its urgency was no longer one of fear. She knew those hands; they felt just as she had thought they would. Turning slightly, she caught his smoky black eyes.
The reason that she could no longer hear Snape reading his paper was not because some magical creature had killed him and come after her but because he had left it discarded in his chair and glided to her side. The air seemed to thicken between them and though Gwen wanted to break eye contact she found that she was unable to.
Moments ticked slowly past, tension building like silken threads between them, turning into something palpable. Neither party could move, for to move would be to break the trance they had formed. Who knew what would come after this? Fear of what the unknown might hold was enough to paralyse them.
Eventually, Snape regained control of his senses and made an abrupt lunge for the fireplace in front of them. It had originally been a lunge for those flushed, parted lips, but in the last instant his mind grasped a hold on his...other parts...and changed his body's course. Thank Merlin, Snape panted to himself as he rested his damp forehead on the cold stone. He licked his dry lips, willing his pulse to subside.
He realised that Gwen was still in the room. He groaned, and not entirely from annoyance.
Feeling very awkward indeed, especially when he realised his obvious distaste for the situation, Gwen looked around for something with which to make a dignified exit. She turned over a gold clock she had conjured earlier. Thank God, it was almost time for dinner. "I – I should probably go to dinner." She cursed showing her weakness with such an obvious stammer. Angry with herself, and almost in tears from shame, she ran out of the lab and through the dungeons to the great hall not stopping once to look back.
Snape let out a shaky breath and slid to the floor.