Ezmerelda -- Me either! I wouldn't want to discover it that way no matter how estranged I was. Glad you're still enjoying the story.



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Chapter Five
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Staring sightlessly into the fire his mother had stoked, Severus Snape tried to feel something . . . anything. What he wanted to do, was to rage at the world, and the unfairness of it all. Of course, he'd long known the fundamental truth that life was anything but fair. Fair was a concept thought up by irrevocably do-gooder Gryffindor types, and perpetuated by hopelessly sentimental Hufflepuff types. It certainly wasn't verified by an uncaring, utterly blind world. Today, however, had capped even his admittedly low view of the way the world worked.

He sighed heavily. At this point, he'd even welcome a sense of grief; though, he'd not understand it, it would certainly be better than this nothingness. He didn't feel it, however. He didn't feel anything, he couldn't. He was numb, utterly numb.

It had to be shock, he reasoned. What else could it be? Shock was known to do strange things to people . . . beyond the mere physical. Physically, it could kill. Mentally, it could twist the mind until the victim didn't know which way was up. He should get up and. . . .

**And what?** he thought, blinking in surprise as he realized he'd already translated thought into action and was now standing. He didn't even remember moving.

The calming potion -- that was what he needed. It was well known for its ability to help counteract the effects of shock. **Of course,** he thought, moving automatically toward his small private lab, **it works far better when combined with the Japanese invented Chi balancer -- and sleep.** Sleep he couldn't get right now, but the other two would serve well enough for the time being.

He was several steps past the clock on his desk when it dawned on him what it said. Eyes widening, he turned back to double check. Sure enough, the cheeky thing read: Professor Severus Snape is five minutes late for double potions with the Slytherins and Gryffindors.

Without so much as a single sound, Severus did an abrupt about face and headed toward his class. He could not remember a single other time he'd approached this particular class -- his 7th years -- feeling less . . . capable of facing them. They were not an easy class to teach, filled with bitter rivalries and four of his all-time least favorite students: Weasley, Potter, Granger, and *Longbottom*.

Sighing as he approached the heavy dungeon door, he shook his head. His strange emotionless state would certainly make for an unusual class period -- if nothing else. He wondered briefly just how shocked his students would be. One deep breath later, he shoved open the door, allowing it to slam against the stone wall as he swept inside, purposely mimicking his usually entry.

He noted absently the startled jumps and squeaks made by most of the class -- and, of course, the quickly cut off conversations. He almost smirked as he realized that this time, even the Slytherins had reacted to his entrance. Unusual for him, however, he ignored it all, head straight for the front of the classroom.

"Today's potion," he began, "which you will be well aware of if you actually completed your reading assignment," he continued, losing himself in the suddenly welcome rhythm of a lecture. The rapid scritch of quills against parchment, the confused looks on half the class, strangely didn't irritate him. The sullen looks from most of the judgemental Gryffindors didn't phase him, and went completely unremarked on. Even the Slytherin muttered insults directed at said Gryffindor students didn't irritate him -- and hidden though he always kept it, it *did* irritate him.

He was almost -- *almost* -- amused at the odd, pondering looks he was getting, which he had no doubt were revealing their curiosity as to why he had been late for the first time in their student history. He didn't enlighten them; though, he supposed it would be an amusing twist. They wouldn't expect it, and would throw half of them -- at least -- into a tailspin.

"A reminder list of ingredients," he said finally, flicking his wand toward the blackboard and muttering the charm under his breath, "is on the blackboard. I expect most of you will fail to make it properly the first time, but try anyway." He smirked at the utterly predictable eye-rolls by both Weasley and Potter, and the huff of righteous indignation from Granger. He ignored the shudder from Longbottom, and nearly sneered at the quiet mocking laughter of Malfoy and his dumb as posts cronies.

"Well?" he snapped, when not everyone moved instantly to begin gathering ingredients, sneering as he continued. "Do you need a guided tour?"

The class responded with gratifying speed.

He spun away, retreating to his desk. He had several assignments he could grade while he waited for the students to get far enough along with their brewing that he needed to keep a closer eye on things. No matter what was happening in his life, he was *not* going to allow it to break his impeccable record. No one had *ever* been seriously injured in his classes, and today was not the day that was going to change that -- interfering mothers and dead fathers aside.

Barely ten minutes later, Severus found himself throwing down his quill in disgust. He wasn't even able to enjoy destroying the illusions of his students that they actually knew what they were writing about. He scanned the room and its occupants, wearing the glare he'd perfected over the years so as to be entirely automatic. He could glare, scowl, and sneer with the best of them, no matter his mood.

He gaze travelled over the trio just as Miss Granger peeked up at him. His frown deepened and she immediately snapped her head back down toward her cauldron. What disturbed him had been her expression. She'd seemed . . . worried. **About what?** he wondered, then frowned. **Him?** He snorted, rising from his seat to begin his first stalking round of the classroom. **Maybe sometime next century.**

He found himself, much to his dismay, revising that opinion about twenty minutes later. Every single time he bothered to glance over at the trio -- he was *not* paying inordinate attention to the nosy Miss Granger -- he caught her either in the process of glancing over his way, or quickly glancing back down. It was getting highly . . . irritating.

He strode toward the back of the classroom, looming behind several students as he made his way around the room. Snapping his head around, he once again caught the cheeky chit staring. She snapped her head down . . . again, and he smirked, gliding soundlessly forward now that he was assured she had her entire attention focused on her work.

"Miss Granger," he hissed, bending over her shoulder. She jumped, jerking her head around to stare at him in shock. "I suggest you keep your busy-body, Gryffindor curiosity on your potion, and out of things that do not concern you."

"Yes, Professor," she squeaked, whipping her head back so she faced her cauldron.

His stomach sank at her next words.

"Oh, no!" she breathed, staring at her hand in horror.

"What have you done now, Miss Granger!" he roared, even as he checked for himself. In her hand she held a now empty vial that should have been half filled with diced Karra root. Shifting his gaze he watched as the self-same ingredient sank slowly below the surface of the lightly bubbling liquid in her cauldron. His heart jumping into his throat, his mindvoice taunted him even as he shouted at the class, "Under your tables, everyone, NOW!"

//Well, you wanted to feel. Is this enough excitement for you?//

**Sod off!** he told himself as he grabbed Miss Granger off her stool, curling himself around her and pulling them both under the sturdy work table.

With only seconds to spare, Miss Granger's cauldron exploded. In a loud hiss, he berated the trembling girl. "Fifty points from Gryffindor for utter carelessness, and detention tonight at 8pm sharp."

Miss Granger gasped, her face turning a rather unattractive shade of red as she clenched her mouth tightly closed around the protest she so obviously wanted to utter. He ignored the glares of her friends as he cautiously crept out from under the table, carefully avoiding the potion remnants dripping off the sides.

"Everyone, carefully turn off your cauldrons. *DON'T* touch any of the potion splatters. Then, get out!" he snarled. "Miss Granger, you will clean up this mess . . . without magic!"

"We'll stay to help, 'Mione," Harry assured her.

"You will not," Severus snapped. "Ten points from Gryffindor for interfering."

"It's okay, guys. You go ahead. I'll be fine," Granger said, soothing her friends before he could be tempted to take anymore points. They nodded reluctantly, turning to leave quickly.

Severus found himself disappointed. He'd been looking forward to docking them more. The fire pumping through his veins quickly cooling now that the crisis was over. A heavy knocking on the classroom door distracted him and he quickly crossed to it, wrenching the door open. "What?" he demanded sourly, surprised to see Minerva down in the dungeons. Usually only a dire threat to one of her students brought her down.

She took a deep breath, then suddenly shifted her attention over his shoulder momentarily. "Could I speak with you . . . privately for just a moment?" she asked, turning back to meet his eyes.

"I will be *right* back, Miss Granger," he said sharply, "you'd best be finished by the time I return." He then swept past Minerva into the hall, waiting until she cleared the doorway before pulling the door closed. "What is it?" he asked impatiently. He had more important things to deal with than Minerva's perceived ideas of student injustice.

"I just had an . . . interesting conversation with your mother."

**Merlin, no!**

"And?" he prompted, just as impatiently as before. Surely his mother hadn't disregarded his comments.

"She seemed to be of the opinion that I should 'examine my situation and determine whether or not I'm satisfied with it--"

**Oh, Merlin help me, she did.**

"--She seemed to think *we* would be ideally suited."

He groaned.

"Severus, I *have* to ask you to speak with her. She was very . . . insistent that I consider the possibility. Only after I said I would, was she willing to back off."

Feeling utterly humiliated, Severus closed his eyes briefly before speaking. "I apologize for my mother's actions, Minerva," he said carefully, groaning inwardly. He couldn't remember ever having actually apologized to his rival before. "I will most *definitely* speak with her about it."

"Thank you," Minerva replied, nodding once. She turned to leave, but hesitated, her expression turning to one of indecision. "I just want to say this in no way affects the respect I hold for you."

Severus' eyebrow shot up in outright disbelief.

"I'm serious," she insisted. "While I find you utterly barbaric, too often cruel, and without manners to speak of. I *do* respect your abilities." Again she hesitated, then rushed to finish. "And your incredible bravery," she said, completing her turn quickly and striding away before Severus could possibly respond.

"Everyone's gone absolutely barmy!" he breathed incredulously, purposely raising his voice just enough to ensure that his rival professor heard him quite clearly.

She laughed.

He frowned.


TBC
Kiristeen
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Kiristeen@kiristeen.com


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