Mother and Daughter
The following day all the gossip was about the new girl. Antigone did her best to ignore it by keeping her head slightly down, but it didn't help when you were taller than most of your classmates. Reciting the inventory of her father's storeroom in alphabetical order (something she had memorized from numerous detentions and groundings) worked a little better. The previous evening Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson, the other two Slytherin girls her age, had attempted to engage her in 'girl talk' only to find that the bookish Miss Snape was completely hopeless in this arena. Quite all right by her, she had known both girls when they were grown and two more viper-tongued bitches had never walked the earth.
In spite of only having picked at her meal both last night and this morning, she wasn't hungry. She was incredibly tired, however, since she hadn't slept very well either. She would have approached her father to ask if she could stay in his rooms, but the relationship there was still too shaky to risk it. Doubtless he would never understand her dislike of the Slytherin students in the first place and she feared she had insulted him with her obvious distaste of the entire house before. Thankfully, her classes weren't too much of a problem. The teachers had all, apparently, formed their own idea of how to deal with her. Some were initially cautious, like Hagrid, but relaxed around her shortly. Others, such as Professor Flitwick, seemed to have taken into their heads to pity the youngest member of the Snape family for her blood connection to the "Demon in the Dungeon", the nickname that they often used amongst themselves whenever he was being particularly difficult.
Most of the basic classes were paired off between Slytherin and Gryffindor, with the blessed exception of Herbology. To her displeasure, however, she didn't seem to be able to sit next to the esteemed Hermione Granger. Most of this was due to the fact that the one person she had always hated more than any other would not stay from her.
"There you are, Antigone." The snide, drawling voice made her wince internally. Struggling to maintain a civil expression, she looked up from her potions text and directed her eyes towards the pale, rat-faced boy who was taking the seat next to her own. Oh gods! Now he wants to be my lab partner? What celestial power did I piss off this much? And when the hell did I give him leave to use my given name?
"Malfoy." Cool, polite and just a tinge of I'm-really-not-in-the-mood-right-now. He didn't take the hint.
"Oh, call me Draco. I insist. We are in the same house, after all, and the Snapes and the Malfoys have always been close friends."
Only because neither of us want to deal with the legal aftermath of wholesale slaughter. "Draco, then." She looked around the classroom, hoping to see a Slytherin without a partner. There was one, in the very back. "Aren't you Crabbe's partner?" I hope.
The boy shrugged this off easily enough. "Usually, but there aren't any truly permanent partners. No assigned seating either." He leaned over a little closer. From the corner of her eye, she caught a murderous glare aimed in her direction.
"I don't think Miss Parkinson cares much for you being my partner."
"Pansy? Just a dear friend, I assure you. Nothing more."
Liar.
She was about to try a subtle suggestion that he partner his fuming girlfriend when the door slammed open. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. She didn't know why his entrance struck her as funny, but she did find it amusing that he still attempted to intimidate a class (and usually succeeded in doing so) and bursting in like a man ready to commit murder. She dared to meet his eyes, but noted that he was looking at Malfoy, his own eyes narrowing.
"Malfoy, take your seat next to Crabbe." Before the boy could protest he had moved his attention to someone else. "Mr. Longbottom, you will be with Potter and Weasley today. I hope the three of you together might actually manage to produce the correct potion. Miss Snape, you will be partnering Miss Granger." All this was arranged during the time it took him to walk from the door to the front of the classroom. Antigone stood rooted to the spot, shocked beyond words. "Have you lost your wits, Miss Snape? Was there something about that simple statement you cannot understand?"
She was not used to being on the receiving end of her father's sharp manner. It stung more than she would have expected. She shook her head quickly and scooped up her things, muttering a quiet "No, Sir," before moving over to take the now empty spot next to her mother. She dared to look at the other girl's eyes and saw that she was confused by the arrangement as well. He can't possibly know. If he did, he wouldn't let me anywhere near her. What is he playing at now?
~***~
That should keep them both entertained for a while. After the trip to Diagon Alley, he had no doubts as to his daughter's academic strengths. The idea had come to him during preparations for class to pair her off with the Granger girl. It would keep her from helping Longbottom so that the boy would be forced to muddle through on his own (and perhaps even learn something) and he suspected that, for the first day at least, it would allow him to instruct a class without the chit constantly waving her hand about to answer every question. However, children were nothing if not adaptable, and he suspected that it would only take them the first day to grow used to one another.
It also served to get Malfoy away from Antigone. Lucius must have already owled his son regarding the girl and the boy was starting his hunt. Not that he could blame him. Up until now Malfoy had been looking for a more permanent connection between his family and Parkinson, but the rather homely Pansy Parkinson wasn't the most appetizing of sweethearts. Were he in the boy's shoes, he would have jumped at the chance to replace her as well. Still, to walk into the room and see the boy hovering over her had sickened him, but there was some gratification in noting the barely concealed distaste on her face. She had intelligence enough to notice the "wrong sort" at least.
There was little lecturing needed for today. The class had the notes from the previous session to work from; they had only to brew the potion. It would take the full length of time allotted in their class and most of their concentration. The revealing potion, meant to allow the drinker to see through magical disguises, was complex and he fully expected the bulk of the class to fail.
He allowed his eyes to rest for a moment on the two girls he expected to complete the potion correctly sitting at one of the front worktables, noting that they were already whispering over the class notes. Antigone had to bend down a bit further to speak with the Gryffindor girl. Miss Granger was a rather petite creature, towered over by most of her year, while his daughter seemed to have inherited the Snape family's tall, lithe form. He recalled that his sister had always snarled in rage at her reflection, fully detesting being what she termed "freakishly tall" and lamenting on the overall lack of proper curves. Being the dutiful, younger brother he had often teased her about it, pointing out the more pleasing figures of other girls her age in seemingly innocent conversations.
Did he have other children in the future? Was Antigone an only child or did she have a younger brother or sister to torment her as well? He pushed the thought from his mind the instant he realized he was thinking it. He would not become obsessed with his future. He would shelter the girl until Dumbledore found a way to send her to her own time and allow his future self to play the doting father. At this moment in time, he would concentrate on his teaching.
He prowled amongst the worktables, walking behind each row of students and ignoring the way they tensed up at the sound of his coming nearer. The Slytherin students cringed as well, though they were not as obvious about it. He knew very well that even those in his own house were in awe of him and his ice demeanor, ever aware that he wasn't above taking points away from Slytherin students, though he was more lenient with them. There were some bright students among them, but being raised by the worst of the dark witches and wizards had reduced them to petty rivalries and spoiled behaviors. Generations of inbreeding had left them soft, weak and riddled signs of diminished power. When he compared the Slytherin students of the past to these pasty, pale imitations, he had to fight himself to keep from cringing.
As he continued to stalk the classroom a movement from the corner of his eye stopped his angst-ridden thoughts. With the speed and grace of a serpent, he reached out to grasp Longbottom's wrist in one of his own slender hands. "Mr. Longbottom, were you not paying attention in class Monday? I believe that I instructed you to add only Amaryllis petals, not the leaves. However, if you're that eager to spend the rest of the term in the infirmary, then by all means, continue." His voice was cold enough to freeze the air in spite of the boiling cauldrons. The round faced boy gulped and muttered some barely audible apology before his hand was released so that he could correct the problem. Tucking his own hand back into the sleeves of his robe, he lifted his eyes to meet two curious gazes. "Snape! Granger! I fail to see how this concerns the two of you. Tend to your own cauldron." Both girls immediately complied, bending back over their work.
A snide comment here, a deduction in points there, class continued much as he expected. In that secret part of his mind, he longed for a class full of Miss Grangers, all eager to learn and possessing the intelligence to excel. She was an annoying little know-it-all, but he doubted she would be as bad had there been an advanced placement program at Hogwarts much like those he had heard of in Muggle schools, classes designed for the brilliant minds so that the Longbottoms and Goyles of the world didn't hold them back. Had the girl just had been born of at least one wizarding parent she would have most likely been in Slytherin rather than Gryffindor. Hearing Minerva expound on the girl's mind and talents had worn thin during the first year, shortly after she had so blatantly lied to them and the woman believed her completely. He was never quite sure why she had stood up for two boys who, up until that night, had treated her as little better than a pest, but the friendship that had formed as a result stood on unshakeable foundations.
Deciding to back off for a little while and let the students breathe, he made his way back to the raised platform where his desk stood. The black cloth of his robes rustled as he turned and sat down in the chair. Tenting his fingers, he allowed his eyes to rake over the class. Potter, Weasley and Longbottom were all three trying to decide amongst them who had written the notes down correctly while Parkinson was giving Goyle a withering look for daring to question her instructions. His eyes fell upon Crabbe and Malfoy, and he noted with no small amount of irritation that the boy was not paying attention to his class work, but staring at the front of the class instead. With a silent growl that none of the students could hear, he turned his eyes to the girls.
They're certainly adapting to one another well. He managed not to smile as two pairs of hands collided briefly, both having reached for the same vial of extract at the exact same moment. The conflict was solved quickly, Antigone retreating to allow Granger to take the vial while she turned her attention to chopping willow bark, meant to counteract the headaches this particular potion could bring on without it. Their hands were very much alike, both slender with long fingers and nails that would be oval in shape except that neither girl spent a great deal of time caring for them. The nails were ragged and torn in multiple places from the hectic pace of academic pursuits. The similarities were almost charming.
He watched as his future child bent down a little further to whisper with her lab partner. Their faces were rather close to one another as they discussed the notes on the Granger girl's parchment. He had given Antigone her own copy the night before in preparation for the class, but she did not have the benefit of having sat through Monday's lesson as the other had. Her rather too-short (he preferred women with long hair), straight locks met with Granger's waist length frizz. The difference in texture and length was the breaking point between what turned out to be two heads of exactly the same ginger brown color. He frowned briefly at this. Her mother's color, he surmised.
Apparently satisfied with their mutual decision, both girls lifted their attentions from the parchment and turned them back to the potion. The willow bark properly chopped, he watched as they busied themselves with adding it. Antigone folded the heavy piece of parchment she had used as a makeshift cutting board so that she could slide the pieces into the cauldron while Miss Granger stirred the brew. He looked at the identical expressions of concentration on their faces… and froze.
Both girls had pulled their bottom lips under slightly to bite them lightly with their teeth, more on the right side than on the left. The twin sets of lips, both shaped like a cupid's bow, were now folded in the same way underneath identical, smallish noses. Eyes of different color were the same shape and size, perfectly matched for Miss Granger's bone structure but a bit too wide for his daughter's thin, angular features. The expressions were the same… exactly the same.
His black eyes roamed again over their hair. No, he hadn't been mistaken. Both girls had the exact same shade of ginger brown; only the textures and length differed. He stared again at their hands and swallowed roughly. He had thought that she had his hands, but now that he knew what he was looking for he could tell that wasn't the case. They were long, but the nails were all wrong. He had square nails, not oval.
Once the bark was added, he watched as his daughter smiled. Then, as if feeling the weight of his gaze upon her, she looked up and over in his direction. From the way her eyes flared a bit and what little color there was in her face escaping, he must have had a rather startling expression on his own features. Antigone looked at him, then at Miss Granger, then back to him before lowering her head quickly back over the notes. Miss Granger noted the odd behavior and seemed to question her about it, but the taller girl just shook her head. He didn't need to approach the table or even call her into the office off to the side of the room to ask her what was the matter. Her behavior told him that his suspicions, as ridiculous as they may seem, were spot on.
Once the bell sounded, he gave the class instructions to bottle the potions and leave them for his review. This was done and students fled from the dungeon chambers as quickly as they could. He waited impatiently for them to place the vials on his desk, then looked up and tried to find his daughter. He caught sight of her just as she was running through the door and into the hall. Black eyes narrowed dangerously, but he didn't call out. Perhaps it was better this way. It would allow him to ponder just what type of madness he must suffer in the future that he would bed Hermoine Granger.
~***~
"Antigone."
She stopped and turned to see her mother running towards her. She managed to force a smile as the girl approached. "Hello. Thanks for the help in class."
"It's nothing. Just helping the new girl." Hermione grinned at her, ignoring the frank looks garnered from both houses. "I was thinking, if you like, I could help you brush up on your subjects, help you sort out just where we are."
Antigone looked up and noted, with great relief, that her father was not standing in the doorway glaring at her. "I'd like that." She took a deep breath. In for a penny, in for a pound. "Library, then?"
"Is there anywhere else to study? What time is good for you?"
She looked back at the door. Still no Professor Snape. "Can you do it now?"
She must have said something right, because her mother lit up with joy. "Of course I could. This was my last class for the day."
"Well then, shall we attack the library?" Both girls took off at a slightly more hurried pace than needed, mainly because Antigone was directing it. Something about growing up within this drafty old castle had taught her a good many things. One of the most important was not to poke a disgruntled gargoyle. Well, she had already done that in spades, and it wasn't even her fault! One thing was for sure, however, she had no desire to face her father this evening. Something told her that he was not taking his latest revelation all that well.