Haunted
By Be Boring
Chapter 1: Terrible First Impressions
Snape was hardly aware that he was loosely holding a jar of beetle's eyes that was dangerously close to slipping from his fingers. His dream kept coming back to haunt him. Why had he dreamed about Cassandra, and why of that particular day? There were so many good memories with her he could have been dreaming about, so why had that one come to mind? He could still feel the hidden rage that rose inside him at the memory of seeing her naked next to Sirius. Although common sense told him that it hadn't been her fault, he knew that he would never have been able to look into her eyes without feeling disgust again. Sirius had enjoyed the one thing that he had been truly looking forward to. It wasn't just the sex, he simply wanted to be as close to Cassandra as possible, and sex represented that for him. Even with Sirius gone for just over a year, it didn't hold back his hatred for that man.
It took him a moment to realize that he was no longer holding the jar of beetle's eyes, for it was now hovering three feet above the ground in front of him. He reached out and snatched it, then mumbled, "Good morning, Headmaster."
Albus Dumbledore smiled serenely and made his way into Snape's class storage room. "Good morning to you as well, Severus. What brought about this strange change in you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Snape grumbled sulkily, setting the jar in its rightful place on the shelf and leaning down to pick up a few more to set next to it.
"Come now, don't insult my intelligence. It's not like you to be so careless with your students' ingredients, and the fact that you're doing this by hand when it could be done in only a few seconds with the aid of your wand makes me a bit suspicious. Didn't you sleep well?"
"I slept fine," he replied tonelessly, refusing to admit that the reason that he wasn't using magic or requesting that a house elf do this kind of work was because he was so shaken after his dream that he needed to do something with his hands, and also because he didn't trust himself to use a wand right now. With his luck, he'd probably blow up this entire room.
Albus sighed resignedly, knowing he wouldn't get anything else out of his moody colleague. "If you need anything, you know where to find me." With that said, he turned and left, leaving Snape feeling partly relieved and partly frustrated. He didn't want to tell Albus about the dream, but it would have been nice to share his confusion with someone who might be able to tell him why it had come back to haunt him so many years later.
As he opened a box that was labeled "DANGEROUS: HIGHLY VOLATILE", he groaned and pulled out one of the jars. Instead of containing the dragon bile it was supposed to, the jar clearly held nothing more than dragon scales, which were hardly a suitable substitute. Unfortunately, dragon bile was rare to come across and he wouldn't be able to make another order until spring. Hopefully the jars had simply just been placed in the wrong box and there was someone out there who had received the shipment rather than the dragon scales they were expecting. 'I'll have to go into Hogsmeade and talk to the apothecary. They must have the dragon bile somewhere.'
With only a few hours of sleep, Necia finally slid out of bed and stretched slowly. Her back was more stiff than usual, but that was because she was used to sleeping in a bed of much better quality. Unfortunately, she would have to make due because she would be unable to access much of the money that her mother had left her until she had graduated from Hogwarts, despite the fact that she'd be turning eighteen in a matter of months. Until her graduation, she would be sent what she considered to be an allowance from her hidden account in Gringotts bank in order to keep herself taken care of until she was out of school.
It wasn't that she was spoiled, far from it in fact, but it upset her not to be able to use that money without limits. Didn't her mother trust her? It wasn't like she would go out and buy everything in sight, she had been raised to use at least some sort of budget. Despite the fact that her mother had been richer than sin, they had still lived rather quietly. No big, fancy house or wild parties, nor any servants to work for them. Apparently her mother had turned down the house-elf that her family had offered to her. Necia had grown up cleaning up after herself, which she knew now was a good thing. She was at least fairly independent. The only thing she wasn't used to was being without someone to talk to and confide all her feelings to. Her mother had been more of a friend than anything else, she rarely used her motherly authority because Necia never gave her a reason to.
The thing that Necia had never understood was why she never got to know the rest of her family. She hadn't known any family members other than her own mother, although she'd heard a few things about her father, grandparents, and a cousin that her mother had gone to school with. As far as she knew, the Malfoys were a bad family that turned away anyone who wasn't going to become a dark witch or wizard. Her mother had left her house after she'd finished school and had lost all contact with her family after she became pregnant, although it sounded as though she was the one who had cut off the communication, not them. She'd heard a few stories about the troublemaker that her mother's cousin had been, but this didn't upset her as much as the fact that she'd heard more about him than her own father. All she knew was that her father had been a one night stand that her mother truly regretted, and she'd only found this out by accidentally coming across the Pensieve that had been kept in the basement and seeing an argument that had taken place between her mother and grandmother. She'd hardly heard any of it before her mother had caught her and screamed for her to never look into the Pensieve again.
Sometimes she had wondered if her mother wished she'd never had a child, but they were so close that this thought was soon pushed aside. Necia leaned down and picked up the tear-shaped locket she'd left on the bedside table. Popping it open, she felt the heat of her tears come immediately to her eyes as she looked down into her mother's smiling face. Cassandra Malfoy. What a wonderful woman she'd been. Necia had always loved that name, which meant "prophetess". Her own name meant "fiery" or "passionate", although her mother had admitted she'd only chosen it because it sounded pretty. Not that it bothered her, the name fit her perfectly.
She smiled when she opened the door and saw the basket of chocolates and candies that was sitting on the floor. She was surprised that some other guest hadn't come along and taken them, they had had plenty of opportunity to do so. A chuckle managed to make its way out of her throat as she set the basket down on her bed. She could almost hear her mother's voice saying "What did I tell you about having sweets for breakfast!"
"Don't worry mother, I'll save these for later," she whispered to the locket. She could have sworn she heard a "cuckoo" sound come from the mirror, but she ignored it. 'What does the damn mirror know anyway?'
This was ridiculous. Why couldn't the girl just take his word for it that he had ordered dragon bile and not scales? He had been in the apothecary for well over an hour, while the girl behind the counter spoke with every other apothecary in Europe. All were interrelated so that if one didn't have a certain product, you could still order from them anyway and pay a little extra so that they could get it from another apothecary that did. Unfortunately, they didn't let the buyer know which one they had ordered the product from and it seemed that his order had gone wrong from the beginning. Nobody seemed to know where his dragon bile was supposed to have come from, and they had no clue who had ordered the scales.
Now Snape was rubbing his temples and watching the back of the girl's head with a strange desire to use an Engorgement Charm on it. However, that head in the fireplace would be in for a huge shock if his spell missed. He finally walked over and rapped his knuckles against the counter, bringing the girl's attention back to him. She smiled sweetly, but it wasn't fooling him. "I'm sorry for how long this is taking, sir, but it shouldn't be much longer."
"I don't really care, as long as you get it done. I'm going to go get a drink and if this isn't all sorted out by the time I get back, I'm going to take my business elsewhere." The low, cold tone of his voice had its desired effect, the girl seemed to shrink on the spot and finally had to break eye contact. He smiled with the first pleasure he'd had all day, perfectly aware that Dumbledore wouldn't have been pleased to know his first smile of the day had come from scaring a nineteen-year-old girl.
The Three Broomsticks was the most inviting place he'd set foot in all day. It was still midmorning, so it wasn't really crowded other than a group of old witches who sat gossiping at the bar. They glanced his way for a second, but then went back to their chatting as if they hadn't stopped. He listened as they talked about every new person they'd seen come into town lately, and within five minutes he had heard everything from an anorexic vampire to somebody who had apparently tried to transfigure themselves into a thestral long ago and royally screwed it up. Only one of the women had seen death, so she had been the only one to see his right leg and both of his arms. To the others he had looked completely deformed. 'He should be thankful, at least he didn't actually remain looking like one.' This was when they said that all his visible parts appeared thestral-like, while his invisible parts remained normal. 'Now my life doesn't seem half so bad.'
Every now and then new customers would come in and quickly order themselves something before leaving again. He occasionally recognized someone, but they rarely took a second glance at him. Not that it bothered him; solitude was his way. More than anything he wished that everyone could just leave the inn now so that he could be completely alone. This was when the old witches' conversation took a more interesting turn.
"Did you see that girl that's staying in the White Charm Inn? I swear she looks too young to be traveling alone. I saw her walk in during the middle of the night when I was looking out my window. What's she doing here at this time of the year?"
"School's starting soon, I expect she's waiting to start. I hope she doesn't leave, there are so few young people around here during the summer."
"That's true, and quite honestly I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful girl in my life. She'll have every boy in school coming after her, if not a few men from this village. Actually, she reminds me slightly of that Sirius Black, with all of her dark hair. She has a bit of that lean build as well."
Severus rolled his eyes as the other witch replied, "It's so sad about what happened to him. Could you imagine being imprisoned and later chased for murders that you didn't commit, only to have the truth come out after you've died? He didn't really get the chance to live as a free man."
What were they talking about? Sirius hadn't just acted like a free man back at school, he acted like he owned everything in sight. Even now Severus had to clench his jaw at the memories.
"Let's not talk about any of that right now, it's just too depressing. What do you think about Bulgaria's chances for the Quidditch World Cup this year? With Moran and Troy taking a year off, Ireland should be out of the picture. They've dominated for so long now, it will be nice to see someone else get some glory. Besides, Krum is the best Seeker in the league."
Severus allowed his attention to wander, no longer interested in their conversation. He had never really liked Quidditch, although he had always been jealous of James Potter's flying skills. The only thing that had gotten him through it had been Cassandra's company.
"Hurry up, it's already starting," she groaned eagerly, dragging Severus up the stairs into the Slytherin stands. She usually watched the games with him, although when Hufflepuff was playing, she was obligated to remain in her section to cheer them on.
"It's only Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, why do we need to hurry?" He had absolutely no interest in watching James take the spotlight once again, which he would undoubtedly do. He always made at least ten scores in one game.
Once they had settled themselves down into an empty space, Cassandra immediately pulled out a bag of sweets from Hogsmeade. "I still had some left over, and I figured you could use something sweet." She knew how much he hated to watch Potter show off, but thankfully she was very good at taking his mind off of it. As he started in on the Every Flavor Beans, he heard the Gryffindors burst into hysterical cheers as James dodged all three of Ravenclaw's Chasers and scored while hanging upside-down from his broom, which of course was the best money could afford. It was a Cleansweep One, a great broom from a brand new company. Not many kids could afford it, but naturally it was the only broom that would do for the fantastic James Potter.
"Having a good time?" came the cheerful voice of Lucius Malfoy, who had just returned from hexing most of the Gryffindors from beneath their seats. He had managed to give most of them severe boils on their ankles. Lily Evans could be seen limping painfully across the grounds, her boils the most excruciating of all. He had had particularly good concentration when he hexed her.
Neither Cassandra nor Severus were very pleased to see Lucius. He always followed Severus around in their common room, trying to get answers on his homework and searching for a practice partner for the cruel spells that he had looked up. Cassandra had just never been close to her cousin, who constantly gave her a hard time because she was in Hufflepuff. As if to remind her of her shameful position, Lucius added, "It must be strange to be sitting over here, Cass. Were you afraid I'd be headed to the Hufflepuff stands next?"
She rolled her eyes. "Actually, I came here because you're never over here, you're always off cursing the opposing teams. I hope you hexed the Ravenclaws too, just to be fair."
"I haven't gotten there yet, actually. I thought I'd do that after they managed to score something."
"Unlikely," Severus grumbled bitterly. The Ravenclaw Chasers wouldn't ever get possession of the Quaffle with Potter out there.
Lucius smiled. "Don't look so cheerful, Sev, someone might actually think you have a heart to brighten. By the way, have you finished your Potions essay?"
"What do you think?" he asked irritably. 'As if I wouldn't have already finished that. I got done with it the day it was assigned.' Cassandra smiled at the comment and lazily watched James perform a large loop-the-loop in the air before diving in to steal the ball from one of the Ravenclaw Chasers and promptly scoring spectacularly, forcing the Ravenclaw Keeper to dive wildly and fall completely off his broom. Madam Flesley, the referee, caught him before he hit the ground, making the crowd cheer madly at her impressive dive.
Suddenly, as Severus's eyes wandered downward in an attempt to avoid eye contact with Lucius, who obviously just wanted to copy his essay, he noticed a tiny bit of wood sticking out from underneath his seat. Cautiously peering under the stands, he wasn't surprised to see Sirius Black muttering words under his breath as he aimed at the back of Lucius's left calf. Due to Lucius constantly moving around, he was unable to get a good shot, so he shuffled over to Severus's legs. He carelessly lifted his legs to prop them on the empty seat in front of him, pretending he hadn't seen the intruder in the Slytherin stands.
Cassandra had watched her friend's strange actions curiously, until he meaningfully tipped his head down and slightly to the left, making her turn to look. Sirius was now targeting her, completely unaware that she was watching him. She didn't move a muscle, and as he leaned forward to take good aim, she swung her right leg back and caught him forcefully in the nose. He cried out and stumbled backwards, arms windmilling for a moment until he regained his balance. She glared down at him as he stared furiously back up at her, clamping a hand over his bleeding nose.
"I don't think you need to ask what that was for," she said in a quiet yet deadly tone of voice. He left without a word, leaving Severus and Lucius gaping at her in a mixture of shock and admiration.
The rest of the game passed pleasantly for Severus. Lucius left to hex the Ravenclaws, and with the memory of Sirius's bloody nose, he couldn't even be upset that Gryffindor won the match by a nearly record-breaking margin.
Severus shook his head fiercely. Why was he remembering her again? At least that was a better memory than last night's, but he would still prefer not to think about her. It was depressing to recall how even though she had hated him, Sirius had slept with her before he even got the chance to propose the idea. 'First I have that dream, then my order gets screwed up, and now I'm remembering the last person in the world I want to think about. Could today get any worse?'
This was when Necia came through the door.
Necia was immediately aware of eyes on her as she stepped into the Three Broomsticks. She could have just as easily gotten a drink at the White Charm, but the Three Broomsticks was much closer to where she had been shopping. Still, from the automatic watched feeling she was getting right now, she wished she had taken the walk. Her eyes scanned the room swiftly, over Madam Rosmerta and the gossiping witches nearby, to an old wizard in the corner sipping a butterbeer, and finally to the source of the feeling, an older, greasy-haired man by the bar. His dark eyes followed her every movement, but he looked so pale that it was as though he'd seen a ghost. Her stomach lurched uneasily as their eyes connected, and she could have sworn he was looking directly inside her head. It was as though he could read her uncomfortable thoughts as she determinedly headed for the bar. No creepy old man had ever kept her from getting a drink before. Then again, she wasn't really sure if she'd ever had an encounter like this before.
"A butterbeer please," she said groggily to Madam Rosmerta, who glanced at the strange man before grabbing a bottle and handing it to her. Necia was doing her best not to squirm under his gaze, but it finally became too much. "I don't have slime on me somewhere that I can't see, do I?"
Her comment seemed to shock him out of his thoughts, and she couldn't help but think how strange it was that he recovered his composure so quickly. "You looked like someone I knew at first, but the second you opened your mouth the resemblance was gone." His tone of voice was so cold that some anger flared up inside her. He had been staring at her, and had the audacity to be rude when she confronted him about it! Where did he get that nerve from?
"Excuse me? What right do you have to insult me after you've been watching my every move since I walked in the door? If anything, you should be apologizing to me or not saying anything at all."
"Would you rather I go back to staring at you?" The amusement in his eyes only fueled her indignation.
"If you want to continue looking like a creepy old pervert who apparently can't get someone his own age, then be my guest. Of course, if you want to hold onto your last remaining scrap of dignity, then I suggest that you take your wandering eyes elsewhere."
It was at that precise moment when Madam Rosmerta went to the man's empty glass. "Will there be anything else, Professor?"
Necia had to work hard to keep her jaw from dropping. He was going to be one of her professors? 'Well, if that isn't one way to start the school year out with a bang.' The amusement in his eyes only increased at her reaction to that one little title. "Did you think that a school wouldn't hire a 'creepy old pervert' like myself? From the look on your face, I'm guessing that you're coming to stay at Hogwarts. I truly hope for your sake that you're not enrolled in Advanced Potions."
Oh, this year wasn't going to be good at all. "As a matter of fact, I am. It looks like we're going to have a rather interesting year, Professor." Now her voice took on a more sarcastic edge. "Just out of curiosity, may I ask what to call you? I may as well start out the year knowing a few names."
"Professor Snape," was the only answer she received.
"Hmm, Snape. Somehow it fits you. I suppose I'll see you in a few days, so I may as well not bother saying goodbye." Without another word, she grabbed her still unopened bottle of butterbeer and left the inn with her head held high. By the time she was out of his line of sight, her knees felt like giving out. She didn't know why, but he had given her the most horrible feeling. If only she knew why.
Snape watched the girl leave, easily seeing how the old witches could have seen the resemblance between this girl and Sirius, but that wasn't what had caused his reaction to her. He supposed that with his thoughts revolving around Cassandra, it wasn't surprising that he was seeing her face everywhere, but that girl had really taken him by surprise. She looked more like Cassandra than any other woman he had ever met. Although at first he had thought she was nearly identical, many of the similarities faded away as soon as their conversation had started. There were a few-- or more than a few-- likenesses between the two girls, but that could be said of many people who weren't related in any way. Of course, with the way his day had been going so far, he could have seen a bit of Cassandra in anyone, not just that annoying girl who he could tell was going to be plaguing his entire year. Still, the girl seemed to set off warning bells in his head. He wasn't sure why quite yet, but there was something about her that he felt wouldn't be pleasant when he was forced to deal with her again.
