51. The Second Lesson

God bless Madam Pomfrey. Callie had come to her one day inquiring about whether the woman could use an assistant. "I'd really love to get some healing experience, ma'am," she had said. "Plus I've got all this free time now. Fewer classes, ya know?"

The matron had been perfectly happy to have Callie shadow her, explaining all the different treatments she administered as patients came in. She had even trusted Callie to perform a few simple spells or dole out potions, for some of the less severe cases.

Apparition lessons had begun in February, and with them came quite a few splinching injuries. Pomfrey had remarked that she was glad to have Callie around, as she could take care of much simpler tasks while the woman worked on reattaching severed body parts. Then things got even more exciting, as Red Weasley showed up in March having been poisoned, and ended up spending several days in the hospital wing. A week later, Harry arrived with a cracked skull, after Cormac McLaggen had smacked a Bludger into his head during a Quidditch game.

"Stupid arsehole," Callie had said as she wrapped the boy's head with a bandage. "You know he practically assaulted Hermione at Slughorn's party?"

"Yeah, I heard." Shaking his head, he added, "He's off the team, whether Ron's able to play or not. He must've missed twenty blocks, he was so busy shouting at everyone, couldn't even keep his eye on the rings!"

Callie gaped at him. "He fractured your skull," she reminded, "and you wanna talk about blocks and rings?" She rolled her eyes. "Good Lord, Harry, priorities."

"Oi!" Red called out from his own bed. "This is a priority, we've got a Cup to win!"

"Oh, excuse me," Callie replied sarcastically. "Poisonings and head injuries are nothing compared to the horror of losing out on an ugly piece of tin."

"It's silver!" Red shot back.

"It's stupid!"

Thankfully, the angry ginger boy left the hospital wing two days later, along with Harry. Things started to calm down after that, until a week or so later when Pomfrey came up to her and said, "We've got a VIP in bed six."

"Who is it?" Callie asked.

"Your head of house."

Callie's heart skipped a beat, but Pomfrey noticed her rather panic-stricken face and said, "Oh, not to worry, dear. It's just a shoulder dislocation."

The girl breathed a sigh of relief. Ever since the back half of the school year had begun, she had become increasingly anxious about how the Defense curse was going to manifest itself this time. As long as he gets out alive, I suppose anything else would be bearable. If the past five years were any indication, he did have an eighty percent chance of surviving.

Pomfrey explained, "Some kind of spell mishap in one of his classes. Go ahead and assess and tell him I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

Callie went over to bed six and pulled open the curtain. The moment he saw her, he breathed, "Oh, Christ," and rolled his eyes.

"Who hurt you? I'll end them," she joked.

"Where is Pomfrey?" he demanded.

With a dismissive wave of her hand, she replied, "I don't know, she ran off somewhere. Sent me to assess you." She paused, noting that his right arm hung lower than it should have, and asked, "What happened?"

Sighing, he explained, "One of the first-years, some idiotic Hufflepuff brat, completely misdirected and got me with a Knockback Jinx. I fell back into a desk and it popped out." He indicated his upper arm.

Callie considered that and joked, "Are you sure it was a misdirection?" He glared at her, and she felt around his shoulder. "Yep, it's out all right."

"Thank you for that expert medical analysis, Healer Warbeck," he said scornfully. Then, with impatience heavy in his tone, "Where is Pomfrey? I've got thirty first-years waving their wands about like lunatics and nobody to supervise."

"Oh, they'll be all right. We were eleven once, we were well-behaved." Again, he glared at her, and a wide smile spread across her face.

He looked into her eyes for a moment, and then said, "Tonks?"

"Right." Today her eyes were lime-green. "Figured this was more subtle than the robes."

"I have to say, I was partial to the red. They made you look rather demonic."

"I'll keep that in mind," she replied with a wink.

Once again, he sighed, looking away from her in frustration. "You're doing it again," he said.

"Oh, relax, it's in my nature. I'm charming."

"No, you're not."

"Healer Winslow seemed to think I was. And the vampire. And Wilkie Twycross." She paused. "Pretty sure I've even caught Professor Slughorn checking me out once or twice." He rolled his eyes, and she teased, "You're going to blind yourself if can't find another way of expressing your irritation."

Looking entirely fed up, he rose to his feet as if he were about to leave, but she held her hands out to stop him. "All right, I'm sorry, I'll behave," she said, and he hesitantly sat back down. "I can even pop that arm back in if you want me to."

"Don't you touch me," he warned.

Her shoulders sank and she said, "You trusted me to stop somebody's heart, but this gives you pause?"

"I'm not Katie Bell. I wouldn't let you near my heart."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Let me just have a look."

He gave it a moment of thought, and said, "Fine."

She felt around the area again, raising his arm and aligning it with the socket. "By the way, I love you," she said.

He whipped his head around to look at her, "What?!"

CRACK!

"Aah! Jesus BLOODY Christ!" he shouted.

Grimacing, she explained, "Thought it would be best to distract you first."

He moved his shoulder around, wincing in pain - but his arm was set. Gaping up at her, he asked, "Where did you learn how to do that?"

"Right here, now," she replied. "Seen it done on television a couple of times." He continued to stare at her, both disbelief and contempt on his face. Repressing a grin, she said, "I'll go get a sling."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She showed up outside of his living quarters one night after the Easter holiday. "What now?" he asked, his aggravation on full display the second her saw her.

"I have a problem that I need you to help me out with," she replied.

He rolled his eyes. "What kind of problem?"

She hesitated, biting her lip. "I'm pregnant."

He was absolutely stunned, wide-eyed and mouth dropping open. She gave it a moment, and then burst into laughter. "Only joking!" she said. "Oh, you're so fun to mess with!"

He was about to slam the door in her face, but she stopped him. "No, no, no, wait! I really do need your help."

"You do need someone's help, Warbeck, but unfortunately I'm not qualified to give psychological treatment."

"I need you to help me conjure a Patronus," she said.

"I told you last year, I can't do that." He made to try and shut the door again, but she was persistent.

"Yes, you can. Even if you can't produce one yourself, you can at least give me some guidance."

He actually looked to be considering it for a moment, but then he sighed and began, "There are other ways-"

"I know there are other ways," she said in frustration. "I'm not worried about that. I just hate that I can't get this. I wanna be able to do this." He simply stared at her, so she went on, "Please. Please, I am literally begging you for help - that's how desperate I am."

He folded his arms across his chest and smirked at her. "This is killing you, isn't it? Finally coming up against a challenge that you just can't seem to overcome? And I thought Callie Warbeck was supposed to be unstoppable."

After a pause, she said, "I thought Severus Snape was supposed to be unstoppable. But apparently you can't do it either."

His smirk fell and was replaced with a scowl. "That's right, poke the dragon," he said. "That'll help your cause."

"Why won't you do this for me?" she asked.

"Because I have neither the time nor the inclination to do so."

She looked away with a dismayed expression on her face.

"If you're really so desperate," he argued, "why not just ask someone else? Any one of your other professors could teach you the Patronus Charm."

She hesitated, but explained, "You are my head of house. And you've taught me in private before." She paused, shrugging. "I guess I just like your style."

He studied her a moment, and then a realization seemed to come to him. "They're fucking red," he breathed, as if in disbelief.

She couldn't suppress her grin as she replied, "You said you were partial to it."

"Demonic," he reminded. "You did this to try and... what, entice me?"

"Haven't we established that you can't be enticed?" she teased. "I just thought it'd be a nice touch."

He ran a hand over his face tiredly. "You're impossible," he muttered. But after a moment, he sighed and said, "I'll give you one chance. That's it. An hour. If you can't get it by then, I never want to have this conversation again."

With a triumphant smile she replied, "Yes, sir!"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She was back in his quarters the next evening, shouting "Expecto Patronum!" and waving her wand. The faintest wisps of silver appeared, and faded away within seconds.

"What were you thinking about?" he asked.

Looking deflated, she replied, "My dad. And mum. The last time we were all together, all three of us."

"There's your problem," he said. "You need to fill your mind with complete, unadulterated joy. Memories of your father aren't going to work - they're tainted because you associate him with sadness."

"No, I don't," she argued.

"Yes, you do, unconsciously if not deliberately." He paused. "Tell me, does it make you happy to think that the last time you saw him really was the last time?"

No, of course not. "All right," she said. "I get it."

"Try something else," he demanded.

She spent the next ten minutes experimenting with her happiest memories, steering clear of anything that involved her dad. Neville, she thought. Neville made her happy. Some of her most joyous moments had revolved around him. Their first kiss, the first time they said "I love you," the first time they had sex.

Catching herself, she turned to Snape and asked, "Are you in my head?"

"No," he said. "Why?"

She looked away, and he seemed to conjure up some idea of what he was missing out on, because he groaned and said, "Let us make this clear - I never want to see inside your mind again."

Cocking a brow, she asked, "Stumbled upon something unsavory, did you?"

"No - thank God. But I can imagine."

She smirked to herself, then closed her eyes, settling on the night of their first "I love you." At the time, she had declared it as one of the happiest moments of her life, and in her mind's eye, she could see every detail of that night, feel every sensation. The twinkling lights that were hung up in the greenhouse, the jungle of plants, the silver unicorn roses, the beat of his heart, the feel of his hand brushing against her cheek, the warmth of his lips, the way he had looked at her...

I am completely and totally, mind-numbingly in love with you. And I always have been.

She could practically feel the sparks going off inside her as she remembered it all. The energy. Raising her wand, she incanted, "Expecto Patronum!" and opened her eyes. The silver wisps had grown larger, and stretched father, but still they were only a hint of what a strong Patronus ought to look like. It should've been corporeal, but instead it was entirely shapeless. "God damn it," she breathed. If that wasn't going to do it, then what the hell would?

She almost wanted to cry. She let her wand fall from her hand and made her way over to Snape's desk, hunching over it.

He was standing beside her with his arms folded. After a moment, he asked, "What's wrong with you?"

Turning to face him, she said, "I guess I'm not as outstanding a witch as Slughorn tried to make me out to be."

"That's not what I mean," he said. "There are three primary reasons why someone would fail to produce a Patronus. One - they're incompetent." Callie scoffed, but he went on. "Two - they're malicious at heart. The Patronus is a manifestation of positive energy, which Dark wizards and witches generally don't possess." He paused, before concluding, "And three - they're not happy."

"I'm happy," she said. "I'm competent." This she asserted with a defiant look on her face. "So I guess that leaves... wicked."

Now he scoffed. "Christ, you're backwards," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You really believe you're a Dark witch? Bloody hell, you're about as pure as Mother Mary."

"Not really," she argued. "I've always had a thing for Dark Magic. Not to harm anyone, but..." She paused, trying to figure out how to explain it. "The way you talk about the Dark Arts in class, for example? It's... compelling."

When she didn't elaborate, he prodded her. "Go on."

But she was struggling to sort it all out for herself. She wasn't malicious at heart; she didn't want to hurt anyone. And yet... "I wanna be able to do it," she admitted, unable to face him. "It's like... having a pile of gold you just sit on but never spend."

He pondered that, and replied, "There's a sense of power in having it in your arsenal. Knowing what you're capable of, and that you could use it against your enemies if need be." Folding his arms across his chest, he smirked and said, "How satisfying it would feel to Cruciate Bellatrix Lestrange."

Yes, it would - and her husband and brother-in-law. "Do you know her?" she asked.

"I've had the pleasure," he said derisively. After a moment, he explained, "You aren't wicked, you're driven. You want to have it all, know it all - both the Dark and the Light. It's not a matter of good versus evil, it's about your abilities." He paused, studying her for a while, before he said, "Christ, you are like me. I was just as power-hungry as you are, when I was your age."

"And you became a Death Eater," she remarked. "What does that say about me?"

Raising a brow, he asked, "Are you afraid you'll be tempted to the Dark Side?"

She scoffed. "No. But you once said I had the makings of a Death Eater. Do you remember that?"

He thought back on it and replied, "I do."

"Is that true or were you only trying to piss me off?"

He considered it, and said, "Didn't I just say you're like I was at your age?"

"I do find that hard to believe, sir. Slughorn hasn't kicked me out of his club yet."

For just a second he seemed a bit taken aback, surprised that she'd known that about him. But then his lip curled into a smirk, and he said, "Vicious girl. Perhaps you are wicked after all."

"I tried to tell you," she replied. She then flicked her wand, summoning two glasses and a bottle of red currant wine.

As she uncorked it, he asked, "Is that mine?"

"Mm," she muttered. "Figured it was in here somewhere." She poured herself a glass but paused when she raised it to her mouth, a curious expression on her face.

As she stood frozen in place, looking pensive, he asked, "Something you want to share with the class?"

"N- Nothing," she said, shaking off her thoughts and taking a sip.

"'Fraid it's poisoned?" he asked, bringing her attention back to him. After a pause, he said, "Perhaps it would be wise to start carrying that bezoar around with you... considering what happened to Weasley." There was a sort of devilish glint in his eye, and she could tell that he was trying to rattle her.

She decided to play along, pacing the room as if in deep thought. "Hmm..." she muttered, "now that I think about it... you would have access to Slughorn's mead." She paused, waiting to gauge his reaction, but he simply stared at her with an unreadable expression on his face. "You're an expert on poisons. And you knew all about that curse on Katie Bell."

Another pause, but still, he remained silent and stoic, giving nothing away.

"Dumbledore trusts you," she said. "But then again... so does You Know Who. One of them has to be wrong. And you're unable to produce a Patronus, as Dark wizards generally can't." She looked away from him, as if she were considering all the evidence. "It all really falls into place quite neatly, doesn't it?" she said.

"Are you beginning to question where my loyalties lie?" he asked, cocking a brow.

"Is that what you want, sir? To try and fool me?"

"You wonder sometimes," he said. "You're not entirely convinced."

She studied him, and then huffed, shaking her head slightly. "You seem to enjoy having everyone despise you," she remarked. "You want them to think you're the big, bad Death Eater boy." She paused, and went on, "But I know you've got a softer side. I've seen it." When he'd comforted her after her father died. When he'd fixed up her face and had her wand mended after Pansy's attack. When he'd made sure she got from Diagon Alley to King's Cross safely. When he'd pulled her away from a lecherous vampire...

Don't look so surprised, Warbeck, I'm not a complete monster.

He continued to stare at her, and she held his gaze, taking in those vacant black eyes and wondering - as always - what exactly he was hiding behind them. I wanna know him, she thought. The real Severus Snape. No mind games, no secrets, no double agent rubbish - just him.

Her mind went back to that Amortentia; she had described a part of its scent as "something alcoholic." And it had finally occurred to her tonight - it was the red currant wine.

It's supposed to smell differently to each of us... according to what attracts us.

They stood in silence, eyes still locked, and she wondered if he'd been truthful about never wanting to be inside her head again. Because, as she eyed him up and down, an errant thought flashed in her mind which she didn't want him to know about.

But her question was answered when he said, in that low, silky voice of his, "You are intrigued, aren't you?"

Her heart skipped a beat. Bloody hell.

He studied her a long moment, then took a step towards her. "Fascinated?" he went on. "Curious?"

Look away. Look away! But she didn't, even though her heart had resumed its beat, and was now pounding.

"Always had a healthy... attraction to Dark Magic, you have," he said. "Dark creatures, too." Her mind flashed to Lupin and Sanguini. "Werewolves... vampires... perhaps even the Dark Lord's right-hand man?" He was coming closer and closer, slowly, like he was a hunter stalking prey.

She took in a deep breath. Christ, he had seen. Blushing, she began, "Sir, I-"

"Severus," he corrected.

Almost automatically, she echoed, "Severus." What the hell are you doing? she asked herself. What is he doing? He was only an arm's length away from her now.

"You are curious," he whispered. He came to a stop right in front of her; their bodies were almost touching. But still, she couldn't take her eyes from his, not even to hide what was now going on inside her head. When he spoke again it was almost inaudible. "Wondering what it might be like to be with a Death Eater. Maybe even a killer. Someone with an intimate knowledge of the Dark Arts." He paused, the very faintest of smirks playing at the corner of his mouth. "You know I can read you like a book."

"Yes," she agreed, vaguely aware that she was shaking all over.

And then they were touching. He left no space between them, and he put his hands against the wall on either side of her. "You don't even care that it would be illegal on my part," he said. "Only makes it that much more thrilling."

"Severus..." she breathed. She knew that she ought to tell him to back the hell off. But instead she found herself thinking, Do it. I'm not going anywhere, just do it.

He brushed her hair back, taking the nape of her neck in his hand, and a shiver ran down her spine. "Close your eyes," he ordered. She did so.

He was close. Very close. She could feel his breath on her face, his skin against her cheek. His whole body pressed against hers. And just like with Neville, it felt good.

Not going anywhere, she thought.

And then he was whispering in her ear, "Get your mind out of the God damn gutter, Warbeck." Her eyes flew open and she gaped at him. "You're a child. Start acting like it."

Holy ever-loving Christ, he'd been screwing with her the whole time?!

"Hmph," he smirked, stalking back over to his desk as her mouth hung open in shock. "I'm twisted," he said sardonically. "Suppose I'd have to be to attract somebody like you."

"I wasn't- I-" she stammered, feeling rather dazed.

He poured himself a glass of wine and said, "Stay within your own age group. You're sixteen and I'm old enough to be your father."

"I... I wasn't actually going to let you do it!" she lied.

He merely sipped from his glass, obviously unconvinced.

"I was testing you!"

"Sure you were."

Folding her trembling arms against her chest in defiance - and complete mortification - she muttered, "I guess you passed." Jesus Christ, what just happened? After a moment, she said the only thing that came to mind. "I am not wanton!"

"Oh, I know," he replied. "A more experienced lass wouldn't be nearly as shaken as you are."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She'd been up all night and slept all morning, the events of the previous evening being the first thing on her mind when she woke up. Thankfully, her roommates were off in class, and she had the dormitory to herself - and of course, Bela. He shrieked and tapped his nose against her troubled face, almost as if he wanted to ask what was wrong. She sat up and swooped him into her hands, declaring, "I am not wanton!"

The animal kept his eyes on hers, and even inclined his head in a curious sort of way. He understands me, she thought vaguely.

"I don't know what happened," she said. "Christ, it was like... like I was under a spell or something!" That was the only explanation for it, the only reason she would ever...

God, she couldn't even bring herself to think about the possibility of...

"Ugh!" she groaned, releasing the bat so she could shamefully drop her head into her hands. How - how - for even one second could she have entertained the idea of...?

Cheating on Neville.

With a horrified expression, she muttered, "Bloody hell, I really am a slut." How was she supposed to face him after last night? The absolute weirdest, most mind-boggling night of her life. How was she supposed to face Snape? Merlin's beard, he'd seen the images that had been flashing through her mind. They'd been truly unwanted, intrusive, but still...

Wondering what it might be like to be with a Death Eater.

No, not just any Death Eater - only one.

Again, she groaned, leaning over to burying her face in her pillow. She was absolutely mortified. Not only because of what he'd stumbled upon when he'd decided to go digging through her head, but because of her boyfriend, the sweet, innocent knight in shining armor who worshipped the ground that she walked on and would never think of hurting her. The boy she was actually in love with, not just someone she was morbidly curious about. If there'd been any ounce of doubt left as to whether she was wicked, that was all shot to hell now.

Leaning back against the headboard miserably, she called out, "Bela!" and the bat came directly to her, perching on her belly and nudging her hand for a pet. "Bloody hell," she sighed. She had once told Neville not to keep any secrets from her, and now she'd have to walk around with this, her own horrific indiscretion.

Nothing happened, a little voice in the back of her head reminded. And nothing was going to happen, he'd only been messing with you.

Yes, that was true. But it didn't make her feel any less guilty. Because the awful truth was that she hadn't told him to back off or slapped him or had any other normal response to him approaching her that way. In fact, she'd have been perfectly willing to let it continue, to let him kiss her... to let him hold her up against that wall and do whatever he might have wanted. Good Christ, it was as though she'd been Imperiused - totally compliant, submissive...

...But also wanting.

I am not attracted to Severus Snape! I am not attracted to Severus Snape! I am not attracted to Severus Snape!

"UGH!" She threw herself face-down onto the bed, holding the pillow over her head as if to hide from her own shame.

A while later, somebody entered the room. She didn't even look up to acknowledge them, but it was Daphne, who called out, "Snape's asking for you."

Callie waved her arm dismissively as she said, "Tell him to shove off."

"I most certainly won't," the pompous pureblood replied. "But I'd love to see you try that."

She seriously considered blowing him off, but she was going to have to face him sometime, and better now, in private, than during the next Defense lesson. Plus, she was curious. With a sigh, she forced herself up off the bed.

However, she couldn't quite meet his eye as she entered his office. "Miss Warbeck," he greeted, and she just knew, without even looking, that he had a smug little smirk on his face.

"Professor Snape," she replied coolly, refusing to look at him.

After a beat, he said, "I thought it was 'Severus' now."

"Professor Snape," she repeated, very deliberately.

"Hmph. Not quite as... friendly as you were last night."

She could feel her cheeks redden, and her heart sped up a bit. You came on to me, she thought. But she couldn't argue that, because it had all just been a big game for him, while she - knowing he was in her mind - had practically been begging.

"Sir," she said, her eyes still averted, "I would really... really like it if you and I never spoke of last night again."

"Oh, we're going to speak of it," he said. "In fact, I was just now wondering if you might be in the mood for a romp."

She turned to gape at him. Bloody hell, he did not just say that!

"Got you to look at me," he said with a shit-eating grin. "Figured that oughta do the trick."

She simply scowled at him a moment, before she said, "I hate you. I have always hated you, and now I've reached the Everest of hating you."

He stood up, still smirking, and came to stand before her. "And here I was beginning to enjoy our time together," he said.

He stared down at her, and she turned her face away again. "Don't you look at me."

"I don't have to. I saw everything I needed to see last night."

Damn you, she thought bitterly, remembering how embarrassed she had been to have Lupin find out she had a crush on him. But he had handled the situation with tact and delicacy. Snape, in contrast, was having fun torturing her.

"I have to admit," he said, taking another step towards her, "I was rather curious myself."

Her eyes widened, and again, she gaped at him.

"About just how suggestible you could be," he concluded.

She blinked up at him. "Wh- What?"

"You are easily influenced," he said. "I really had you thinking that you were... enchanted with me."

She had no idea what he was saying, and simply stared at him with a confused expression on her face.

"It was Legilimency," he explained. "A mind game. I was projecting."

She stood frozen in place and still rather puzzled. "Projecting?" she echoed.

"I put those ideas in your head, Warbeck, I was influencing you. For Christ's sake, if you'd been in your right mind, you wouldn't have let me come within five feet of you." He paused for a moment as she took that all in. Then, with that smug little smirk, he said, "You're quite fun to mess with yourself."

Her jaw hung open as it all sunk in. Influencing her, mind games, putting ideas in her head. Leaving her to fret about it all night, and all this afternoon. Letting her believe that she really was a tramp, that she was low enough to consider cheating on Neville. Manipulating her to make her believe that she wanted him. Humiliating her.

"You son... of a BITCH!"

His smirk only widened as he said, in a perfectly calm tone, "You're beautiful when you're angry."

God... DAMN you! She raised her hand to give him a slap, but he caught her by the wrist. He was completely unfazed, composed as always.

"I did have a purpose behind it," he explained. "As I said, I wanted to find out how prone to suggestion you are."

Sneering at him, she growled, "I am going to kill you!"

"Before you do," he said, returning to his desk, "you ought to have a look at this." He grabbed up what looked like a journal of some sort and held it out to her. She snatched it out of his hand and quickly flipped through the pages, finding them covered with his handwriting.

"What the hell is this?" she asked, not bothering to stifle her anger at him.

"Do you remember when I told you that the Dark Lord had been planting images in Potter's mind all last year?"

"Yes," she replied, curious in spite of herself.

"Dumbledore had thought it would be beneficial for the boy to learn how to block out such influences. He asked me to teach him Occlumency, which is-"

"I know what it is," she cut in.

"Do you know how to practice it?" he asked, sure of the fact that she did not.

"No," she confirmed.

"Rather a useful ability to have tucked away in one's arsenal. It can protect not only against Legilimency, but also the Imperius Curse, Dementors... any kind of magic that manipulates the mind." She looked down at the journal, and he explained, "These are my personal notes on the subject. Everything I tried to teach Potter, though I'm hoping you'll take to my instruction much better than he did."

Again, she stared down at the journal, opening it up to a random page and studying his handwriting. Almost unconsciously, she ran her hand over his words as she thought about everything that had occurred from the previous night until now, and something just didn't sit right. But she kept it to herself.

"I'm not going to thank you for this," she said, keeping her head bowed. "On principle. You don't deserve it."

"Oh, I'm hurt," he replied sarcastically, turning his back on her. "Read it through. I hadn't been bluffing when I told you I never wanted to see inside your head again."

Shaking her head in annoyance, she repeated, "I really do hate you."

"I know," he replied, unaffected. "And I find that extremely amusing."

She rolled her eyes and made her way out, pulling the door shut and leaning against it. "Bloody hell," she breathed, still with that nagging feeling that something was off about his explanation for the previous night. It was mental manipulation. He'd put those... unholy thoughts in her head, he had said so himself.

If you'd been in your right mind, you wouldn't have let me come within five feet of you.

But... hadn't there been several times when her thoughts had been her own, and just for a second she'd gotten a cheap little thrill regarding the man? Like when he'd swept her up in his arms after she shattered her ribs - had her heart not fluttered just a bit? Or when he had joked about falling in love with her? Or any time he touched her, like when he'd brushed away a tear from her cheek? Or just now when he had, albeit mockingly, called her beautiful? He hadn't been 'influencing her' all of those times.

Cheap thrills, she told herself. Just like with Healer Winslow and the vampire and every other male she flirted with. It meant nothing.

I am not attracted to Severus Snape, I am not attracted to Severus Snape, I am not attracted to Severus Snape...

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Author's note: I'm very curious to know what people thought of this chapter. Please review.