A/N: The first Potions lesson rolls around with a thud reminiscent of Darth Vader's footsteps. We've seen Antares deal with the bullying Draco and the weird Sorting Hat, but what about one Severus Snape's take on events? You are about to find out .

As it has previously come to my attention that some of you may be rather disinclined to read of our Sev's various – er – sexual escapades (not that they're actually that varied), I will henceforth endeavour to try and warn y'all if any particularly lurid spots (not that there will be many, or even any concerning him) coming up.

So, we have Warnings and things. Skip if you don't care:

Please to be informed that Severus a) talks about doing it and b) thinks about doing it in this chapter. Erm, like, probably every chapter. Gah, my A/Ns are losing their touch! Just read it, dammit.


Chapter 10: The Lesson From Hell

Severus closed his eyes and counted from one to fifty as he rolled stiffly out of bed, mouth sour with sleep, hair feeling greasier than normal. He glared blearily at his pillow, which was also greasy, and wondered angrily if everything would conspire against him this day.

He made his way to the shower, ignoring the feel of the cool air of the room against his stretched, sensitive skin, and the lurid thoughts that waltzed through his head from the sensation. It galled him that it actually took him a minute to decide to spell the water cold, and frankly frightened him that he'd already been stepping, quite eagerly, under the warm spray before he remembered his original intentions.

Shower, no touching, right

Despite the aching embarrassment it infused him with, Severus determinedly spent more than ten minutes paying attention to his hair. His bleak mood was worsened by an unhelpful comment from the cowed (or rather, not so cowed) mirror in his bathroom, so much so that he refrained from cursing it this one time.

That was partially because he was already half an hour late for breakfast, of course. When he returned to Hogwarts later that weekend, he'd make sure to give the blasted thing a proper seeing-to. Unfortunately, plotting the torture of the only mirror within his chambers led him to another, worse train of thought: whether Bella would let him stay the night, or not.

Yet another lurid, writhing picture assaulted his senses at precisely the wrong moment as he entered the Great Hall. Consequently, he noticed all too well that young Draco was languidly pelting a furious-looking Antares with scrambled egg, and felt it his duty to walk on – no, that wasn't – stop and sort it out, you idiot

"Regressing to babyhood, Draco?" he said softly, settling a heavy hand on the startled boy's shoulder. Unrepentant grey eyes flew up to meet his in vain, for Severus only had eyes for the angry flush on the cheeks of Antares, sitting across from Draco. His cutlery was quivering oddly as he determinedly wiped his face free of sticky egg, inciting more wretched pity within the heart of the Potions Master, whose hand gave a firm, disapproving squeeze to Draco Malfoy's whining shoulder.

"But, Professor, he started it – "

"Five points from Slytherin for absolutely disgraceful behaviour, Draco," Snape said evenly, averting his eyes from the angry hazel pair he could now feel boring into his chest. "You would do well to keep whatever daft little grievance to yourself until you can vent them without disgracing the House, as I advised all of you at the beginning of this week." He straightened, looking piercingly round at the silent first years staring at the confrontation. "I do not wish to see such a nonsensical display again, is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor Snape." Draco's tone was mutinous, as was the look on the familiar features of his face, but extracting the apology would serve, for now.

Or, at least, Severus hoped so. He gave Antares a quick look-over before he swept on to the head table, and was heartened to see that the flush had receded somewhat from his thin face, and he was listening to one of the other first years on his right – the Davis girl, if Severus remembered correctly. Well – out of my hands, now – He made his way over to the head table, ignoring the slightly nervous greeting of Quirrel beside him, and availing himself of bacon, toast and the bitterest coffee he could make before even thinking of the first class he would have that morning.

Potions, Gryffindor/Slytherin, all morning long.

Severus shuddered despite his usual iron composure. He knew exactly why the Headmaster regularly oversaw the timetable of the first years, had known for five years now, and the yearly understanding of the old man's firm interference was as apt to evade him as not. In the first year with Pucey, Warrington and those abominable Weasley twins, not one class was shared by the new Gryffindors and Slytherins. A smart choice in Severus' opinion – those four in the same room for more than an hour did not bear thinking about.

Severus picked up his overtly ornate coffee mug, swirling the hot liquid within it with no real purpose as he continued to think. The next year, of course, with that pompous Smith child and no future troublemaker in sight in any of the Houses, they had all shared classes. This year, however, the Potions Master had been appalled to discover that the Gryffindors and Slytherins would meet in his classroom at the same time, and, furthermore (as if making sure the twenty foolish children did not put an end to themselves and him did not suffice), would meet outside on the Quidditch pitch, for Flying lessons.

Severus almost choked on his coffee, remembering how his first Flying lesson had gone. He continued sipping the hot beverage slowly, almost dispassionately reviewing the mortifying events in his head as he gazed absently at Antares, who was now animatedly arguing with Draco once more. Bucking broom – frightened first year – it had almost been too easy for an accident to happen. His teeth gritted of their own accord, but were forcibly drawn apart so he could continue drinking.

And, Severus thought mutinously, dark gaze edging down the Gryffindor table now, as if such a class isn't enough, I have to have Lupin's brat in the same class as well

That thought overwhelmed him, forcing him to set down the cup before he threw it in a rather unwise direction and rise from the table, ignoring the Headmaster's gentle inquiry far over to his left. He really did not know what on earth Dumbledore could have been thinking, saddling him with such a responsibility. Watching Antares Black could certainly be done just as well in a class with Hufflepuff, for goodness' –

Oh, right. Wrong way.

Severus whipped round to the left, plunging determinedly down a staircase that would lead him to the dungeons, though well away from his intended destination. If he just prepared for the class and didn't think about it, he could survive the fifteen minutes to go, he really could.


It was a pity, Severus vengefully thought, that circumstances seemed to actively conspire to prove him wrong. From the moment he'd entered the class and begun his speech, he could already feel the thick tension that hovered in the air. Lupin – Neville Lupin and Draco were glaring at each other from opposite sides of the classroom, most of the Slytherin and Gryffindor students grouped around also glaring at each other. Well, apart from Antares – he was looking rather uncomfortable as he shakily inspected the cluttered desks of everyone else.

Severus caught his eye almost by mistake, and nearly recoiled – the seething anger behind that nervous, slightly blank expression was far more than he'd ever expected the boy to display, and –

Ahem. The roll call, bloody hell –

"Black, Antares." The boy nodded jerkily at him, going stiff with obedience. "You may take your seat – no point trying further to forestall the stupidity of your classmates just this moment….Brown, Lavender…"

"Present, sir – "

And the list of names went on, until – "Lupin, Neville…"

"Present, sir." Severus could not help it, could not contain his almost involuntary reflex of looking up. Perhaps he thought there would somehow be that pale, weak-looking face there, smiling at him, accompanied by three others, three uncomfortably familiar faces. Perhaps that was what made him cruel.

Then again, the very way the Lupin boy fidgeted in his seat was inherently annoying, so –

"I almost forgot," Snape said venomously. "Our new…celebrity…" The expression on that face was almost too pathetic for words – as if frowning foolishly would make one braver – "I am quite curious, Lupin, as to how much of your fame is completely deserved. Shall we have a little test?" Snickering met his ears from the Slytherin side, but Severus was hardly doing this for them. He was doing this so the stupid little brat would owl home and ask his damned werewolf bastard of a father why on earth Professor Snape was so mean to him, and maybe –

"Where can a bezoar be found, Lupin?"

"Erm – I'm – " Neville stammered, but already the hand of a little girl by his side that Severus had not quite noticed before had shot up disgustingly high, enough that the idiot boy actually gave her a disconcerted look before trying again. "I think it's from a – a cow, sir?"

Severus smiled, as nastily as possible. So useless, already, at remembering even the commonest remedy that any wise witch would tell her child – almost too easy, this.

"What is the difference, Lupin, between aconite and monkshood?"

Lupin sweated satisfactorily, the obscenely agitated Gryffindor girl vibrated in her seat, hand held high, and no one else raised – their hand. Severus sighed, as if almost relieved.

"Yes, Mr. Black?"

"A bezoar can be found in the stomach of a goat, sir. And aconite and monkshood are the same thing, I think – "

"Really, Mr. Black? You think?" Some of the Gryffindors tittered in concert with the Slytherins, but the boy simply lowered his eyes to his desk, almost absently, a sort of odd half-smile creeping over his face.

"At any rate, that's what my mum told me – aconite, monkshood, and something else."

"Professor Snape, could you please tell the apprentice to spare us any more stories of his mum?" cut in Draco in a snide, over-eager tone. "Honestly, he's told us about her at least fifty times now – "

"Just like you've told us about your all-powerful Father, thank you very much – " Antares retorted suddenly, colour flooding his cheeks.

"I was only asking the Professor – "

"And I don't care if he's got enough galleons shoved up his arse to buy up all of magical England – if you can talk about him, I can talk about my mum – "

"Desist this instant," Professor Snape snapped, unnerved by the way the tension in the class had suddenly ratcheted up a notch despite the low titters of the disaffected members. "I don't dare to suppose you know the answer, Mr. Malfoy?" Draco stared up at him sullenly, grinding out the answer.

"It's aconite, monkshood and wolfsbane, sir," he said, eyes flicking to the significantly paling Lupin as he suddenly seemed to realise the implications of the fact that Neville did not know the plant. He opened his mouth for a moment, as if to push the point, but was silenced by a pointed look from Severus, who had rapidly decided to make sure things did not get out of hand.

He glared round at them all, regaining his seat as his desk so he could finish the roll call, and by the time he'd come to, "Zabini, Blaise," the class was silent and focused solely on him once more. Snape slammed the register shut, revelling viciously in the way a few of the Gryffindors jumped, then began to bark out orders as he chivvied a horrified-looking Mary – Mary Manders? – into a seat beside a scowling Millicent Bulstrode. The rest of them were already in pairs anyway –

"Class, open your books to page fifty-seven. Begin the boil-curing potion you find there, with your neighbour as your partner – and do not presume to talk. Though a simple potion, you are almost certain to spoil it. Direct all questions to me, if you please, and not to your neighbour, who will undoubtedly lead you wrong." The students complied, most of them darting Severus resentful looks that troubled him not at all. He stalked over to the pale, angry-looking Neville's cauldron, having spotted the shaky hands and inept cutting that presaged an imminent potions disaster.

"Some instinct, Mr. Lupin," he began cruelly, "demands that I place you in the hands of someone more likely to correct you," he sneered down at the carrot top of the Weasley beside Neville, "than hinder you in any manner. Mr. Weasley, kindly exchange places with Mr. Black."

"But sir – "

"Immediately, Mr. Weasley. Not one word." Shaking with pathetic, childish fury, the red-faced, red-haired Weasley gathered his materials and huffily gave way to a wary-looking Antares, who quietly set down his tattered book and notes, making faces at Ronald Weasley's mess of ingredients. Snape nodded and stalked off to harangue a wild-looking Lavender Brown, who looked like adding a pinch too many of ground snail shell. Moments later, the agitated whisper of Antares reached his ears.

"No, no, no, don't add that yet – "

"Add what?" came the upset-sounding whisper of Neville Lupin as a disquietingly loud splash sounded behind Severus.

"The quills – get back, get back – "

Severus was halfway through his uneasy turn when it happened. Loud hissing filled the dungeon to the counterpart of a thick, bubbling sound – an omen that foretold nothing but –

"Get back – everyone – "

It ashamed Severus somewhat that the voice of reason was Antares', and not his own, but there was no time for that – the sight of Antares' cauldron collapsing into a twisted blob of angry metal as the murky white potion seeped across the stone floor was mesmerising, as were the shouts and screams of the students, most of whom were hopping frantically onto their stools, their own bubbling cauldrons forgotten. It took a minute or two to register the sight of a moaning Neville Lupin, angry red boils springing up all over his limbs, as well as to spot a horrified-looking Antares. He was staring, as if in a trance, at his cauldron, and Severus could not find it in himself to squash the tide of pity and – yes, and guilt that swept over him now.

"Idiot boy!" Snape noted absently that his snarl was louder and angrier than normal, and fought to change his tone as he spelled away the spilt potion. "What on earth – "

"It was the porcupine quills," Antares said tightly, still staring at the remnants of his cauldron as Neville tried to grit his teeth as more boils popped up all over his hands. Severus headed decisively for the pair, hoping to head off the episode he could see unfolding before him now, in the high colour of Antares' cheeks, in the twitching of his boil-covered hands. "You – you idiot – "

"You, Weasley," Snape snapped, tugging the gaping boy away from his partner, the bushy-browed girl that he'd seen talking tentatively to Antares at breakfast, "take him up to the hospital wing, immediately. Davis, you can take the apprentice. And Lupin, that's five points you've just lost for Gryffindor for failing to listen to instruction. Well? Get out!" And, though it took the Davis girl a little more effort to get the shell-shocked Antares away from his cauldron, out they got, and the rest of the lesson was as eminently boring as he'd prayed for, earlier.

Well, boring in principle. Severus' mind was already whirling with how to address the cauldron situation without making him appear suspiciously in league with the furious little boy that had left his classroom – what, half an hour ago? – and without making it appear as if he did not care –

The bell rang, and Severus spat out an assignment before he allowed the mostly frightened-looking first years to leave. Then he sealed the room swiftly, making sure to cover the most common eavesdropping-prevention spells (he never bothered shielding against more advanced ones, as he scoured his quarters and teaching rooms almost daily with detection charms of all kinds) then strode into his slightly disordered office, lighting the fire with a sharp wand movement and going to it.

Then, realising that he'd just made his classroom literally impregnable to the most enterprising student eavesdropper while meaning to actually Floo out of it, he cursed.

That's what you get, his brain told him maliciously, when you think too much about a certain someone's cleavage and not the matter at hand – Severus rolled his eyes at himself, fighting to quell the sudden, almost overpowering urge to Floo Bella first. He could make it look like a mistake, as if he'd forgotten – something –

He shook his head, ignoring the fresh smell of the hair that whipped round it – he had to pull himself together this instant. How he could not seem to wait less than four or five hours to return to Spinner's End was beyond him, and it was just – infuriating the way his mind seemed to betray him at every –

The. Cauldron. Matter. Get on with it.

Floo powder in – Severus fussed unconsciously with his hair in the split second before he stepped carefully into the hearth and called out, "Dumbledore's office!"

Spinning overtook him for a few moments, and then –

"Severus? Is there – "

"Sorry, Headmaster," Snape cut the surprised statement off quickly, wanting to get this done and just – "I need clarification on school policy concerning the apprentices, Albus, and I – "

"Pucey can't have gotten into trouble this early in the term, Severus, can he?" Albus' weary-sounding question sounded right, of course, but the slight set to the old man's kind face was almost mockingly false to someone like Severus, who knew this man, and knew how to spot changes and discrepancies like that. "Really, that boy – "

"Stop it," Severus found himself saying sharply as he strode for the desk his mentor and erstwhile master was ensconced behind. "I am not in the mood for your games, Albus. You know, or at least have guessed for whose sake I am asking – do not insult me by forcing me to tell you." Blue eyes met black, the momentary twinkle in them dimming somewhat as Severus halted smartly before the large desk. "The school pays for the replacement of damaged equipment of the apprentice if the damage is legitimately incurred during lesson hours, does it not?" The brisk nod took care of that question, and so – "Good. You understand I will be absent this weekend, Headmaster, do you not…?"

"Absent – oh yes, I believe you mentioned it this morning." Albus Dumble-bloody-dore for 'where are you going, and why'

"As I just said," Severus put forth coldly, turning back to the fireplace, "I am not in the mood for your games this afternoon, Albus. If you are so concerned with my whereabouts this weekend, you may cast a tracking charm – "

"Which, of course, you would remove," the infuriating old man said, quite merrily. "Pay no attention to me, Severus – I am simply a worried old man. A worried old friend, if I may." Those innocuous white eyebrows lifted up questioningly, making the professor wish, all at once, to strangle Albus Dumbledore and shake his head at him in quiet mirth.

"I am merely visiting an old acquaintance, you old meddler," was the sharp retort. "I, as we discussed this morning, I will return an hour or two before lunch on Sunday, and – oh, for goodness' sake, I am not going to tell you." Severus gritted his teeth, careful to stay facing the elaborate hearth before him.

"I was simply wondering how many old acquaintances you had to visit, nowadays," Albus said quietly. "No, Severus, I was not asking whom. I simply request that you, at all times, attend to your safety, as usual." Severus snorted, chancing a glance in the direction of the Headmaster, who had now returned to writing something with the bogus quill in his hands. "Have a good weekend, if you will."

"The same to you, Albus," the Potions Master found himself replying as he cast more Floo powder into the hearth. "Professor Snape's office!"

A minute and a half later, the lunch bell rang, and Severus was brushing soot off his robes as he hustled out of his office, feeling unaccountably as if the Headmaster knew exactly whom he was leaving Hogwarts to see, and why.


Lunch was a dull affair up until the moment that the shouting match started between two irritatingly familiar late arrivals: a peaky-looking Lupin and a positively pasty Antares. Severus had been glaring absent-mindedly at Quirrel nearby and only just participating in the conversation Sylvie Sinistra had begun about that convention of hers, and suddenly he could hear young voices rising louder and louder merely metres from where he sat, and was already sighing and rising from his seat, because he just knew –

"And here I am, giving you a bloody hint," Antares was hissing angrily, "So you don't break the record for cauldrons melted in a Potions class in one bloody week with other people's cauldrons, you stupid lump of – "

"If it's about your furry little cauldron, Black, all you have to do is ask me to replace it – "

"Well that's out of the question, because I don't take sodding charity from stuck-up Gryffindor twerps – "

"But you'll take it from the school, won't you?" shouted the Weasley boy, who was not flanking a seething Antares along with the fiercely scowling Neville Lupin. "You make me sick, all you Slytherins – I bet your mum can afford it, and you're just taking it because you don't feel like paying – "

It really is ridiculous, Snape thought to himself, horrified, how some children will simply say the daftest, cruellest things

Antares went a peculiar mix of white and red that reminded him oddly of Bella, and the dishes and goblets on the table within the radius of the three small boys began to rattle insistently. He'd whipped out his sparking wand just as Severus reached them, and was just about to speak, when –

"If you would kindly explain what on earth you three little fools are doing, disrupting lunch, I would be highly gratified," Snape said softly, voice as menacing as he could make it. Lupin and Weasley jumped slightly – good, just as unobservant as I thought – but Antares only gripped his wand tighter, the rattling of the plates around them intensifying. "Black! Explain yourself – why are you here, causing trouble at the Gryffindor table?" Antares turned on him then – a move that Severus idly supposed might be menacing in five years' time, when the boy might actually be tall enough to really carry it off – and, after a sharp breath, began to speak in a low, shaky tone that boded ill for the abused cutlery around them.

"I just wanted to speak to Lupin, sir, about the incident in class today, which might not have happened," he shot a venomous look in the podgy little idiot's direction, "if he'd been paying more attention to what I was trying to get into his thick head – "

"There is no need for such recrimination, Mr. Black," Severus said firmly, his voice cold and firm. "I, as his professor, saw fit to take points from his idiot house and let him suffer the other consequences as punishment for his imbecilic actions, and I as his professor pronounce that punishment more than enough. It is not your duty, Mr. Black, to reprimand him or any student in any way that a professor has not, unless you are given the authority within the course of a class – is that clear?" Antares nodded stiffly, still giving the pair of hostile first years an even, equally hostile look. "Be gone, Mr. Black – and remember I will not deign to inform you of your duty as an apprentice again."

The boy closed his eyes for one moment, then headed off, angry energy radiating from his quick stride as he left the hall, ignoring sneers from the rest of the Gryffindors as he passed them by. Severus watched him leave the Hall followed closely by a worried-looking Blaise Zabini, keeping an eye out for any sort of outpouring of the tension that was thick in the air at the moment. As the doors to the Great Hall slammed after the boy and his following housemate, Snape turned his attention back to the now nervously fidgeting Neville and Weasley.

"Now, as for you…" he mused, glaring down at both of them. "Do not let me hear you sullying the ancient, honourable tradition of the Hogwarts Apprentice with your ignorance again. Every Apprentice," Severus continued, increasing the level of his voice so all the avidly listening students would hear, once and for all, "is chosen for ability, as you all should know, and if Mr. Black was chosen over you, it simply means – as you, Lupin, should already know – that he has more in his head than the two of you despicable children share between your own." Some of the students nearby tittered lowly as the two boys reddened with embarrassment. "If I ever hear talk of this sort again, it will be punishable by points and detention, am I understood?" He didn't wait for their apathetic 'yes, sir', simply returned to his place at the High Table and rapidly finished his meagre lunch, hoping that that blasted Antares was not off somewhere destroying furniture just because two little idiots implied some sort of nonsense about his status in life.


It took far longer than he expected to finally come across the boy in the library.

Severus sighed irritably, putting away his wand as he headed stealthily for Antares, who was sitting a little way apart from the rest of the Slytherin first years, determinedly scratching out something onto a messily cut letter-sized piece of parchment. He'd searched the dungeons thoroughly for half an hour before wondering why on earth he wasn't thinking – a simple Four-Point spell later, he was heading quickly for the library and trying to drown out the lurid thoughts that had been distracting him during the entire search.

Now, then.

"Mr. Black, a word. Immediately." Antares jumped a little, but had hastily grabbed quill, letter and appeared before Severus within minutes. The slightly startled Potions Master inclined his head a little to the right, and, ignoring the inquisitive stares of the youngsters the boy had been sharing the table with, led the way to a slightly secluded spot among the busy stacks. "Muffliato. What on earth were you thinking during that entire performance at lunchtime? Do the words discreet and unassuming mean nothing to you?"

Antares stared back at him, a little open-mouthed, anger starting to collect behind his hazel eyes. "I was thinking," he replied, through gritted teeth, "about how in the hell I would get a new cauldron of that grade within a week – "

"And you did not think to come to me first as your head of house?" Silence met Severus' curt demand. "Foolish boy – did you listen at all to what Professor McGonagall told you? It is school policy – "

"McGonagall handed me off to Adrian and Charles, so forgive me if I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Antares snapped back, folding his arms across his tiny chest with a stubborn look.

" – to replace school equipment for apprentices as needed – what? You were not briefed by – "

"No." The stubborn look intensified, the very construction of it tugging oddly at Severus' memory. It must be the Black in him, that look – "Shouldn't you be taking me up for my language?"

"Your language?" Severus found himself repeating, almost stupidly. "I am simply – oh, for goodness' sake, your stupid little cauldron will be replaced, as many times as Lupin destroys it. You are dismissed – "

"As many what? I'm not pairing with him again – "

"You will pair with whomever I tell you to, Black – my classroom, my rules. Do I make myself clear?" The boy's eyes flashed as he opened his mouth as if about to say something, and that was when Severus struck. "I asked you a question, Black," he said, very coolly, hoping that the idiot would finally take the hint and just obey – "I require an answer. Now."

"Yes, sir, you make yourself clear." The words came out a little jerkily through gritted teeth, but it would suffice for now.

"Is that a letter in your hands…?" Severus whisked it from him in an instant, not even pretending to see the look of confused shock on Antares' face as he grimaced at the poor penmanship and even poorer grammar. "For your mother, I suppose…?" Once more, the boy began to retort something, and only just caught himself in time.

"Yes. Sir." The words were a bit strangled, again, but would do. Severus nodded slowly – perhaps Antares was not quite as thick as he'd shown at lunch. Perhaps.

"You have good timing," he said now, straight-faced in the face of Antares' fascinated horror as he tucked away the letter in his robes. "I am, in fact, dropping in at Spinner's End sometime during my absence from Hogwarts this weekend, and will deliver this for you." Severus found himself struggling with a nasty smile as Antares' mouth worked in speechless – anger? Horror? Surprise? It was not easy to tell from the boy's face, and he'd lowered those hazel eyes confusedly just a moment ago –

"Thank you, sir," Antares said slowly, almost normally. Severus did smile then, briefly – it was just too funny –

"You must rein in your temper, understand?" he said easily, half-turning from the confused young boy. "It is sinfully easy to vex you, and your enemies will only choose the worst and most public times to do so, especially if you go on rattling every object in the vicinity. Revenge," he said, over his shoulder, just on the boundary of the privacy spell, "is best served on a dish that is not shaking."

Severus sighed as he left the library, hoping that the angry, yet thoughtful look on Antares' face might actually mean that he'd listened to half of the drivel he'd spouted his way. The journey to his classroom, which would undoubtedly be filled prematurely with frightened third years, was uneventful, and so the last thing he did before slamming open the heavy door with a muttered spell was to check the time, hoping the little talk had not taken as much time as he'd thought.

"Tempus – ah. I will be just in time, after this class – "

And with that, Severus Snape swept into his afternoon class, scowling fiercely. The first lesson of the term was always absurdly difficult in terms of re-establishing obedience from his unruly students, and a little veneer of…disagreeability…never went amiss.

It certainly wouldn't now. Severus barked a page number and sneered down his nose at a bored-looking Charles Warrington, hoping all would go well, so that he could leave on time. To see her.

Bella.

Severus nearly groaned – when had he gotten so – so – soppy? Hopefully, it would not carry over to that evening.

Hopefully.


A/N: You like? If so, do tell! I answer reviews! With candy…just kidding.

Next chapter is going to be named something innocuous and boring, because I'm totally out of insignificant chapter names! Not that it's not an important chapter, oh no. It'll be from Bella's point of view, and is already sort of half-written. Well, I've done two scenes, really.

Yeah. This is a boring author's note, eh? I agree. So let's spice it – er – up! What was your fave moment/line in this chapter? Mine was the revenge line, as you may be able to tell. But my fave scene to write was the Albus-Severus scene, because I love writing Crafty!Dumbledore.

Oh yeah – please! Canon compliance-ing! If you notice any weird little departures or stuff that I can easily fix and haven't, do tell. And any other errors in general as well, as I seem to miss the weirdest little things. Thanks!