Professor Snape was glad to be in his dungeons, empty as they were. It would be a few hours yet before his domain was invaded, and a day before he had to face Potter. He sat at his desk, glaring at the desks that would soon be filled with students. Well, students by name, at least. He sighed. Why on earth was he here? No, don't answer that, he told himself.
As for that new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, he doubted she'd last past the year. There was something... familiar... about her, though. As if he ought to know her. From where, he had no idea, but there was a faint indication of... something. He shook his head, dismissing her. For all he knew, she danced the hula in Hawaii. At least she wasn't as bad as Umbridge and would hopefully leave him be.
Kaira finished her classes for the day with relief. The first day was always the worst at any new job, she had found. And she had tried a few. Nothing had seemed to suit her, so she had kept moving on. She had an appointment with the Headmaster, so attempted to find her way to his office. She found it surprisingly easy.
"Ah, Kaira," he said, as she knocked on the open door. "Do come in and sit down. Tea? Coffee? Jelly baby?"
"Tea, please," she answered, smiling.
He passed her a mug.
"So, how was your first day?"
"Not so bad," she replied. "I had a little run in with one student but other than that they were all very co-operative."
"I think they are all relieved that you are not a certain Professor Umbridge. As for the student, was it a certain Malfoy, perhaps?"
"Yes," she said, relieved. So it wasn't her.
"He makes problems for everyone," he told her. "Except Professor Snape, of course. And even he gets sick of him sometimes. Especially as Draco favours his father so much." Kaira wanted to ask why, but refrained. Instead, she asked another question that had been bothering her.
"It seemed to me that Professor Snape didn't seem too friendly when I arrived,"
"He's like that with everyone, my dear. He's a very prickly personality."
"So I gather, but it felt as if he really hated me."
"He doesn't know you yet, so he can't hate you," Dumbledore twinkled at her. "And I'm sure when he does, his attitude will be changed."
The next day, Kaira decided she would track down the elusive Professor Snape, with whom she had not exchanged a single word. He couldn't be that unpleasant. She wandered down the corridors in search of his office, and eventually found herself in the dungeons. It seemed fitting for such a cold-looking personality, she smirked to herself.
As she entered the potions dungeon, Snape seemed to materialise almost like a ghost.
"Ah, Professor Elmsford. To what do I owe the pleasure?" not the most promising of openings to their first conversation. He sounded as unfriendly as he had looked when she had first seen him.
"Good morning, Professor Snape. I realised that I hadn't actually spoken to you yet, so thought I would come and remedy that."
"Very commendable of you, I'm sure," he drawled. "Now, if there is nothing else, I am a little busy."
"There was something else," she said. "I hope to study certain of the Dark Arts that require potions and I wondered if you would have them, or if I should order them from my usual suppliers."
"What potions would you be requiring?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
She listed a few potions that she considered necessary to certain levels of study. He nodded grudgingly.
"Good choices. You might want to include the Jacinta infusion. I can provide all of them, as long as you let me know in advance when you will be requiring them."
"Excellent. Thank you, Professor Snape."
"You are welcome," he replied, more than a hint of sarcasm. Then he said something that startled her immeasurably. "Bristow!" Kaira choked.
"I'm sorry?"
"That's who you remind me of." Sarcasm forgotten for a moment, he stared at her.
"I'm his daughter." She admitted. He blinked and studied her more closely.
"Really... most interesting. Now, Professor Elmsford, I suspect you also have more pressing matters to attend to."
She backed out of the classroom as if she had been dismissed by royal decree. She was still very much confused by the way he had recognised her. She hadn't wanted them all to know who her father was, except from Dumbledore, of course. She had to tell him. But she didn't really like it to be known that her father was an adept of the Dark Arts. Even one who had turned informer after the fall of the Dark Lord. He had never been famous, not like some, but the name still carried a stigma. It was no use explaining that she had never lived with him, and it was partly him that had driven her to specialise in Defence Against the Dark Arts – people automatically assumed that she too must be a purveyor of the Dark Arts.
How was it, though, that Snape had known him?
She was Bristow's daughter! That explained the odd sense that he should know her. That man had been an... acquaintance of Snape's, and not a favoured one. The man had not been pleasant to work with. He had, however, been a powerful wizard and no sloppy potions maker, either. That was why Snape had been working with him, of course...
When she next saw Professor Snape, she endeavoured to catch his eye. When she did, she almost wilted under the pressure of his glare, but smiled brightly at him in reply. She wanted to ask him how he knew her father, and if he was to tell her, they would have to be on speaking terms! He looked away in disgust and started a conversation with Sprout about certain herbs she was growing that he wanted for certain potions. It wasn't until she stopped inwardly fuming that she noticed that they were talking about an herb for one of the potions she had requested. Sprout was nodding and saying that there was some ready if he cared to stop by the greenhouse to cut some.
Not one to leave things hanging, Kaira sought out Snape in his dungeon the same afternoon. He wasn't in the main dungeon, but a room leading off it. He was delicately chopping a root in front of a gently steaming cauldron from which blue vapour rose.
"Twice in as many days. You never seem to tire of my company, Professor Elmsford," he said as she came in. His voice was full of the customary sarcasm. "What can I do for you now?"
"I didn't realise you intended brewing the potion for me. I would have purchased it from my supplier if I hadn't known there was none made up."
"I thought there was, but it seems to have run out..." he replied. "And I am sure what you purchase from your supplier," he said the word with the utmost contempt, "is certainly at least second-rate if not less."
"Well, thank you."
"I assure you it is as much to replenish my stocks as to help you," he replied. "Tell me, do you use Gilbert or do you prefer the idiots at Hedgans?"
"Hedgans," she admitted.
"I thought so," he snorted.
"Professor," she said. "Yesterday, you recognised... who my father was. How did you know him?"
He turned away from her to fetch something from a supply cupboard. His answer seemed to float from behind the dark figure.
"I met him in connection with some potions work I was then carrying out." His voice was cold. He tipped the chopped herbs into the cauldron, which fizzed purple sparks. He stirred it gently and added a couple of drops of whatever he had taken from the cupboard. The sparks turned green and then died down. There was a long silence. "Is there anything else, or do you intend to stand there all day?" his tone was acerbic and mocking.
She flushed.
"Thank you, Professor," she said, and fled.