A/N I don't own this, I think we've covered that.... Oh, except Andraste and her stuff... she's actually mine. Has her own original book in the werx too. Cheerio.
Andraste practically had to jog to keep up with Snapes long strides back to the dungeon. Thankful she hadn't worn high hells, she followed him into his office uninvited.
"I'm sorry, Severus."
"Professor Snape," he corrected.
"Professor Snape... I'm sorry, I should have warned you.
"There was no reason to," he responded, "and I am duly impressed. I assume I will be equally impressed with your potions skills, or I will not hesitate to inform Professor Dumbledore that you are not competent enough to be assisting in my classroom."
Andraste clenched her jaw, willing her temper to calm. She had just apologized to him, how can that slimy bastard still be so rude? "I don't suppose we'll be brewing you a 'be nice' potion in class today, Professor?" Andraste sweetly inquired.
"There is no more a chance of that than of us making you an intelligence one, Miss Andraste." Ouch. The new assistant begrudgingly marked a point down for Snape on her mental scoreboard. "But since you are apparently anxious to start, why don't you go take the ingredients for our class out of stock, and write the recipe on the board. We will be making an Elkhorn Healing Draught." Andraste sighed and walked towards the potions class.
Severus originally had no intention of having his 6th year class attempt the potion he had chosen for the 7th years, but Miss Andraste was going to have to prove herself to keep the position as his assistant. He would make sure of that, even if it was at the cost of every students grade.
The new professor headed to the dungeon classroom, potions ingredients in hand. She was expecting to setup in peace and quiet while she decided the best way to handle Professor Snape. What she walked into, however, was a classroom full of whispering students; all seated a full 25 minutes before the lesson was scheduled to start. The red head boy she spoke to this morning stood up, quickly followed by a blonde she had seen at the Slytherin table.
"Sit down, Weasley." Draco sneered at Ron. Ron opened his mouth to respond, but Andraste beat him to it.
"I expect manners in my presence Mr. Malfoy. Now if you'll sit, I believe Ron was about to say something." The Gryffindors snickered in delight at someone finally putting their least favorite Slytherin in his place. Maybe the odds in potions class were evening out. After managing to suppress the laughter, Ron spoke. "We were wondering, Miss Andraste, if we could ask you a few questions. Starting with, if you weren't born a witch, where did you get your powers?"
Severus, who had been listening from his office and contemplating interrupting the festivities, settled back in his chair. This was a great opportunity to learn about the strange girl without actually having to bear her company.
Andraste thought for a moment before answering. "Well, I have two answers for that question. The short answer is I don't know for sure. The long answer is slightly complicated. Shortly before my 10th birthday I was found unconscious in an alleyway. For some reason I had no recollection of my parents, where I lived, or anyone I might have known." Andraste took a deep breath, after 18 years this was still difficult to talk about. "They tried to find my family, but failed. I was sent to a foster home and soon after that my abilities began to show themselves. My foster parents were frightened and sent me away. I went through four families in three months before I realized that my powers provided me with anything I truly needed. Armed with that knowledge I set out on my own, and spent much of my life living on the streets of various cities. When I was 12 I had a dream in which a man came to me, explained my abilities and why I had them. I still believe the things I learned that night, and I still believe that my powers can be taken away if I break the rules laid out to me in my dream." The entire class was dead quiet. Finally Andraste broke the silence. "Mr. Malfoy, I believe you had a question for me." Draco nodded and stood up. "You didn't cast any spells at Professor Snape during the duel, is defense all you can do?"
"My apologies Draco, was making a figment of Rons imagination materialize not enough for you?" she responded in a dry voice, eliciting more laughter from the rest of the class. "Maybe this would be more satisfactory."
Andraste stalked towards Draco, taking on the appearance of his father as she leaned in towards him. "I hope you are making me proud, Mr. Malfoy." Andraste's body faded back into her own as Draco fell back into his seat. The terror in the Slytherins eyes was enough to make her wish she hadn't gone that far, but the entire class broke out in applause.
Neville Longbottom stood up shyly, waiting for the professor to address him. "Now class, I believe that Mr. Longbottom would like some helpful hints on potion creation." The imposing man standing in the doorway interrupted. "Yes, Miss Andraste, do share your momentous wisdom with us; and then, since we are all here, we can begin class early." Snape stalked to the front of the room, and sat at his desk, waiting for Andraste to continue.
"Very well," she said, turning back to the students. "Neville, do you like spaghetti?"
A broad grin crossed his face. "Yes, ma'am, my grandmother makes the best sauce ever."
"Excellent. Do you think you could make it, if she gave you the recipe?"
"I'm sure of it. I did once when she was sick."
"Touching." She heard Professor Snape mutter to himself.
"That's great, Neville. Now here's what I want you to do. Stop being so afraid of the potions. When you're making the healing draught today, I want you to imagine that it's your grandmother's spaghetti sauce, just follow the recipe and it'll be perfect."
With a big smile, Neville sat down, knocking his book off the table in the process. "10 points from Gryffindor, Mr. Longbottom," Snape said, "for being a clumsy fool. Now let's begin. Get your supplies from the table, your potion for the day is on the board."
Andraste stood back, amazed at the way Severus treated his student. She watched as Harry leaned down to pickup what Neville had dropped. "Fabulous, Mr. Potter, 10 points to Gryffindor for being so helpful." The entire class stopped for a moment and nervously watched Professor Snape, who looked as if he might explode. "I will not ask you again to get your supplies," he snapped at the class. "Miss Andraste, a word please." With that he turned and strode into the adjoining room. The look on Andraste's face was as close to terror as anyone's would have had in the same situation. She followed him amid whispers of good luck from the students. As soon as she entered, he raised his wand and the door slammed shut behind her.
"Do not, I repeat, DO NOT ever undermine my authority in this classroom again. Regardless of what you may think of my teaching tactics, we got along just fine without you before – and if you ever pull another stunt like that we will get along just fine without you again. Am I making myself clear?"
The abject fear that Andraste had felt replaced itself with anger. "Perfectly Professor, now let me make myself clear. I am not one of your students, and I will not be treated as such. And as for your threats, quite frankly you can bite me." Andraste threw him her best smile and walked back into the classroom. The utterly confused look on his face was sufficient to make Andraste give herself a mental applause. 'Obviously,' she thought to herself, 'he has no knowledge of American slang. Two points for me!'
The rest of the class period was tense, but passed mostly without mishap. Professor Snape continued taking points off Gryffindor for absurd reasons, and each time he smiled at Andraste, as if daring her to object. All in all, the Gryffindors had lost 40 points, most of which Andraste was sure was her fault. 'That would have to be remedied,' she thought to herself. When the period was near over, she walked around to the different cauldrons with the Potions Bastard, as she referred to him in her own head. She smiled as she watched Professor Snape have to begrudgingly admit that Neville Longbottom had successfully made a very difficult potion. In fact, everyone in the class had been successful that day. Snape dismissed them with a lengthy assignment. "Four feet on the properties of the Elkhorn plant, due Friday." The entire class groaned in unison. That was four feet in two days! How could that git be such a... a git?