Chapter 18 - The Better Part of Valour

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Despite the fact Raven had made an extra effort to make the resurfacing process as smooth as possible, Ron still toppled to his hands and knees, wretching on the ground. The hooded empath turned her head in embarrassment. The teleportation itself had only lasted at most three seconds, but to the inexperienced passenger, it can seem much longer. As for the other Hogwarts students, they hadn't moved a muscle since rematerializing. At last the sound of vomiting dissapated, which only left the group in silence, with Ron still on the ground.

The silence was finally broken by Harry. "Whoa," he stated softly.

"That was totally wicked!" Ginny exploded in an excited squeal.

Raven merely shrugged and started her journey to the castle. It took a moment before the others shook themselves from their stupor and jogged to catch up with her. "Hey wait up!" Hermione called out as she helped Ron to his feet.

Harry reached the retreating form first and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Wait a second," he panted, "you're...that was...I mean... You just..."

"What I think he's trying to say is," the bushy-haired brunnette interjected on his behalf, "Hogwarts security wards don't allow apparation, and you were able to bring Kreature back from his method of apparation. Basically, you can override Wizarding magic. And what I'd like to know is...what else can you do?"

The shadowed eyes moved between the four Gryffindors calculatingly. "I'm not sure if I can override all of it. I'm very unfamiliar with all the different spells and abilities, and I'm certain that for every ability that I have, there is a Magical counterpart. I just possess a different brand of it, which I'm sure your version can adapt to eventually."

"But You-Know-Who doesn't know that!" Hermione countered. "What all can you do?"

Harry nodded. "If he doesn't know how to override your magic, we could easily defeat him. Show us what you can do."

She sighed. "I don't want to draw attention to myself...I think it's best if that knowledge is kept between Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Snape, and myself."

"Wait, wait, wait," Ginny broke in, her eyes narrowing. "Snape knows about your abilities?"

Raven frowned, but was cut off by Ron, who began insisting she give a demostration for each of her abilities. It was a good distraction. Rolling her eyes, the demoness stretched her hand out to the insistant red-head, enclosing his entire body in her dark energy. She wasn't entirely sure if she was doing this to satisfy his request, or to shut him up. At once the begging ceased and the high-pitched shrieks began as the foreign, immaterial, yet tangible energy covered him entirely. A slight elevation of her hand, and Ron's thrashing form levitated off the ground. The other students watched in amazement, completely ignoring Ron's distress. Once back on earth, his composure scraped together, the Weasley boy let out a breath. "Wow! What a rush!"

"Most impressive," Hermione remarked, "So far, you can teleport, delve into other people's minds, and create and manipulate dark energy. Anything else?" she asked with a hint of sarcasm and an icy smile.

"You still haven't answered Ginny's question about Snape," Harry added. "I'm not so sure he's the best person to trust with that kind of information. I know you're powerful and all, but he can be devilishly sneaky. He's not Head of Slytherin House for nothing, you know."

"And as much as you dislike Mad-Eye Moody," Ginny continued, "He's right about Snape. He used to be a Death Eater. There are just some things that never change. Not to mention he's done some things that are rather suspicious for someone who's supposedly completely converted to the Light."

Raven felt a small stab of irritation in her chest. And I haven't? she grumbled to herself. "Thank you for the concern...I know you mean well, and I'll take your suggestions under consideration." She felt her mind and soul empty to rid themselves of any lingering emotion.

Hermione sniffed. "We're not questioning your judgement, but we happen to have spent the past six years in his classes...I imagine that classifies as more experience with him than you've had." The bushy-haired Prefect gave her a meaningful look before trudging past her up to the castle, barely brushing shoulders. The sorceress hated reading the minds of those around her...she still viewed it as an abuse and violation of her powers...but it was extremely difficult to entirely block out the general thoughts and feelings when someone was that close. She knew that Hermione disliked her, and she tried to convince herself that it didn't matter. She didn't need friends. What had they done for her in the past? Kicked her out when they realized what she's truly capable of. Taken advantage of her. Used her. Took all of what she gave and returned little to nothing. Judged her. Found her guilty, and condemned her to exile. And a little part of her reminded herself that it was nothing more than she deserved.

But it still hurt. Just a little.

"Well I don't know about you guys," Ron piped up, "but I'm starving! How about supper?"

The group made their way to the Dining Hall, still serving the last stragglers dinner. They all sat on the Gryffindor benches and helped themselves. Raven cleared her throat. "Do you, per chance," she drew out with exaggerated diction, "happen to have any herbal tea?"

To her great surprise and relief, a note popped into existance that read "Please state which flavor."

She smiled with contentment. "Chamomile, please."

The note disappeared, only to be replaced with a steaming teacup. Eyes closed in bliss, she inhaled the heavenly aroma...

...but something about the smell was just a tad off.

She cracked an eyelid.

"THE HELL IS THIS?!" The sorceress grimaced and leaned away from the offending mug, only to lean back into someone standing directly behind her.

"Such language, Miss Roth. It's a pity you have no house as yet to take points from."

Raven twisted around to find Professor Snape, in all his intimidating glory, looming over her with a nasty sneer that would send even the bravest Gryffindor into pants-wetting hysterics. She raised an eyebrow.

"What is this swill?" she asked as though he'd appeared simply to address her concern. "What'd they do to it?"

The Gryffindors looked among themselves, wanting to stay out of the line of fire.

Snape cocked his head to the side, though his sneer only deepened. "As traumatic as your introduction to British tea may be, I have more important things to do than console you on your failure to specify to the kitchens your beverage preferences."

"Such as?" From anyone else, it would have sounded disrespectful, but in her monotone, she merely sounded curious. Nonetheless, the Potions master squinted his eyes into something Ron would describe as 'death rays.'

The Slytherin then tossed a piece of parchment onto the table as if it were nothing more than some lint off his immaculate clothes. "I pre-sume you'll have less difficulty identifying a class schedule than you do with identifying your tea." He watched through narrow slits as she picked up and scanned the timetables. "I expect you to be in my office at exactly half past seven. Punctuality shouldn't be too cumbersome for someone with your...talents," he scoffed through his teeth. He didn't bother to wait for a response, and instead swirled around, making his black teaching robes billow with an unnatural grace, and stalked away.

Pushing the tea out of her way, Raven examined her school schedule with the two Gryffindor boys leaning in, trying to catch a glimpse of her classes.

Monday: Advanced Potions, VII 9:00am - 12:00pm / Potion Theory 7:30pm - 9:00pm

The empath frowned. Two potions classes in a day? That was odd. Unless of course, she suspected, this 'Potion Theory' class was merely a ruse.

Tuesday: Divination, VII 9:00am - 12:00 pm / Advanced Arithmacy, VII 1:00pm - 4:00pm / Potion Theory 7:30pm - 9:00pm

Raven stiffened just a little at Divination. As if she hadn't had her fill of prophecies. Arithmacy? What was that? It sounded like some sort of math. She could handle math. It was all logic and applying formulas. No problems there. Then there's that dubious 'Potion Theory' again...she was sure it was the private lessons Dumbledore had been talking about.

Wednesday: Ancient Runes, VII 9:00am - 12:00pm / Care of Magical Creatures, VII 1:00 - 4:00 / Potion Theory 7:30pm - 9:00pm

She swallowed hard at Ancient Runes. Well, it wasn't as if she wasn't familiar with runes...she was a walking example of them. Care of Magical Creatures, whatever the hell. Again with the Potion Theory. The sorceress felt secure in the knowledge that she would be very well prepared to meet Voldemort by the time she was done in that class.

Thursday: Muggle Studies, VII 1:00pm - 4:00pm / Herbology, VII 5:00pm - 6:00pm

A snort escaped her. Oh please, like she was interested in either of those topics. What a waste of time.

Friday: History of Magic, VII 9:00am - 12:00pm / Astronomy, VII 7:30pm - 10:30pm

Now there's a class that's useful! History of Magic...she needed to learn about the new world she was living in. Try to assimilate herself as much as possible. Astronomy, bah. Too similar to Divination, in her book.

A wheeze from somewhere next to her brought Raven out of her concentration. "Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed after choking on his pumpkin juice. "Your schedule's just as full as Hermione's! And this is your first year here! What is Dumbledore thinking?!"

Harry snatched the timetable out of the new girl's hands and studied it. After a moment, he shook his head in confusion. "This is weird." The Boy Who Lived passed it over to Hermione.

The brunnette scowled. "Not only that, but he's placed you in all advanced classes! Advanced Potions, level seven? Advanced Arithmacy?! What on earth! How does he expect you to catch up so far! And what is this "Potion Theory" class you have three times a week? This is insanity! How does Professor Dumbledore expect you to keep up with all this, let alone have any free time?"

Purple eyes flickered in recognition. Of course, it dawned on her...

He doesn't.


The fire in the hearth crackled and popped as the flames danced with abandon, creating a drastic comparison between its light and energy and the dark form slumped in the armchair before it. His heavy robes were rumpled in the same pile he'd left them since tossing them on the floor when he'd entered his chambers no more than half an hour before. Between the time he'd sunk into his chair and present, he'd procured a hot cup of tea and even managed to sniff it a few times.

On the endtable next to him was a crumpled note that had been Flooed to his room that afternoon right after the Order meeting. If one squinted, the neat, slanted script of the headmaster could still be identified on the letter. It had lain there for an hour or more, by now. It had been accompanied by a school class schedule, though that had already been delivered, and now it lay where it had been thrown.

Severus' trademark scowl was more pronounced than usual, and his glare had only intensified since going over the letter in his mind. Without any warning, the Head of Slytherin rose from his chair and hurled his teacup into the fire, relishing the small explosion it made as the china shattered and the tepid liquid sizzled in the flames. He didn't even skip a beat as he replaced his lost tea with a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewiskey. His glittering eyes suddenly caught sight of the creamy, screwed up parchment on the table, and it soon followed his tea. The crumpled ball hit the back of the fireplace with considerable force, exploded into flames, and burned brightly for a few moments before fading to ashes. He breathed deeply for a moment, trying to calm his sudden, uncharacteristic display of anger...he was, above all else, a Slytherin. Expressing emotion put one at a disadvantave. Made you vulnerable and week. He stood very still, his face stoic, and his eyes burning with something that could have been anger or alarm. At last, he moved to throw himself back into his armchair, uncorking his firewhiskey.

Snape sighed. The note he had received, and indeed destroyed, detailed the Headmaster's instructions regarding what were to be his private espionage lessons with Raven. They left little room for questions when it came to what Albus expected him to do, when to do it, and how to conduct himself while doing it. Being forcefully reminded of his place not two hours ago by his other master had left a bitter taste in his mouth, much like the alcohol he was currently consuming. He was not a man prone to self-pity, but anger he knew well. A few sips into his bottle calmed his nerves a little.

As he slowly began to unwind, due partly to the liquor, Snape began thinking over the meeting that afternoon. He recalled the look she had given him before she refused Dumbledore. There was no need to specify who 'she' was, he thought with some irritation. Snape had not been fully alert at the time, but now as he remembered, there had been something about her eyes that should have told him something. As he thought, his own eyes developed a distant quality about them. That glimpse into her line of thinking had brought him to the conclusion that she respected him enough to trust his instincts...without the benefit of actually knowing them. Could she see what he saw in Albus? She had been quick enough on her feet, granted, but was there a part of her that defied the Headmaster because of his protest?

He ruthlessly shut down on that train of thought. Nonsense. She was gifted and intelligent and intuitive, no more, and she had made her choice based on her own perceptions of Dumbledore. Dwelling on fantasies was a sterile and useless exercise. Better to concentrate on how he was going to cope with having her invading his office in the evenings. Wait... Fantasies? He rubbed a hand over his eyes, the whiskey clearly taking its toll already. Snape was under no illusions that Raven Roth was a particularly perceptive and outstandingly intelligent young woman. She had been so in the Headmaster's office, and yet again at the meeting that afternoon. His mind still refused to acknowledge most of the events that took place the previous night, but even so, he couldn't deny she possessed a lot of resolve and strength. At the moment, she was slightly disoriented and struggling from culture shock...this would inevitably wear off - tomorrow morning at the latest, he thought wryly. Then, her formidable talents and intellect would engage, and she would, most likely, give both Albus and the Dark Lord a run for their money. Severus smirked.


The sorceress glared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Hermione had insisted she dress the part, even if she didn't feel the part, if only to blend in and avoid unwanted attention. The logic was sound, but Raven couldn't bring herself to agree. The school uniform she wore was scratchy and uncomfortable. The lack of her hooded cape made her feel exposed and vulnerable. Naked and unsafe, somehow. And the skirt...her left eye developed a small tic...was entirely too swishy. And plaid. And why the hell did she have to wear knee-high socks? The sweater was uncomfortably thick and cumbersome, and the Hogwarts crest looked...dishonest somehow. The starchy Oxford shirt underneath had no tie to compliment it like her peers had because she belonged to no house. Hermione had offered a spare Gryffindor tie, but it was entirely too...red...and gold...for her liking. Bright colors gave Raven a headache.

At half past noon, she met the Golden Trio for lunch after her morning Divination class in the uppermost turret in the castle. She had gotten directions from Hermione on her way to Charms class, and only had to ask for further directions once more on her way. She hadn't known what to expect from the class, but she was determined to learn all she could about wizarding society. Her only fear had been that her own destiney should be discovered. She even considered that was why Dumbledore had placed her in that particular class...but she couldn't imagine he would stoop so low. Then again... Uneasiness had pervaded her mind as she stepped into the darkened classroom and selected a seat in the uppermost row in the darkest corner. What had followed could only be described as a laughable farce of fortune telling that had lifted the anxiety off her shoulders and allowed her to breathe easily once more. Professor Trelawney had gushed over her newest student with her predictable predictions of death and doom, propegating only a few gasps from Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, but mostly rolled eyes from the rest of the pupils. The rest of the class had mostly consisted of an introductory speech about what the students could expect in class that year, and an assignment on dream journals. A subdued snort from Raven went unnoticed by her peers and teacher, failing to inform them that she had no intention of actually documenting the substance of what passed for her dreams.

"...and we were wondering if you'd like to come?" Harry's voice brought her back to the lunch coversation.

"I'm sorry?" she queried, turning her head to him.

"Ron and I were wondering if you'd like to play a game of Quidditch with us and the team this afternoon. It's only a practice game, and it's a perfect opportunity to introduce the sport to you. I'm sure you'll love it."

"It's awesome. I promise!" Ginny added from the other side of Harry at the far end.

The doubtful look she gave them only spurred them on, relentlessly trying to persuade her. The empath eventually gave in, in part to cease their pestering, and partly because she sort of wanted to. It'd been so long since she'd tried anything new, and this was the perfect opportunity to start her life anew...within reason, of course.

Ron and Harry excitedly began jabbering away at the rules of the game, and assured her they'd introduce her to the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. They set the time for 4:30, since both she and Hermione got out of Advanced Arithmacy at 4, and relied on their bushy-haired friend to escort her to the Quidditch pitch. Raven didn't bother to remind them that it was plainly visible from an entire side of the castle and she could simply teleport, since she surmised a walk with Hermione might be in order.

Soon, she and Hermione were on their way to Professor Vector's classroom. Her grumbling companion kept muttering about how a girl was expected to keep up in such an advanced class with no prior experience. The demoness allowed herself a private smile...her disasterous relationship with Malchior had been short-lived and painful, but there had been a few perks. For instance, she never forgot the Absorbtion Spell he taught her. It came quite in handy, and could be accredited for Raven's seemingly limitless knowledge. Some concentration, a few incantations, and all the information a book contained would be absorbed into her long-term memory. Quite a handy little spell.

And once submersed in the class, it would be a life-saving spell. Raven considered herself fairly apt at mathematics and logic, but this advanced science based on predictability was nothing like Muggle statistics and probability. For one, she couldn't construct proper equations, since she had no wand and wasn't a witch, which set her back considerably. Writing the equations on paper limited her ability to edit them and see the altered results, and she lacked different colors for each line in the web. Thankfully, the class wasn't required to do much on the first day, and she was sent out with no homework, other than to absorb the first seven textbooks of Arithmacy so she could get a better handle on the subject.

Once her second class of the day was finished, the pair made their way through the mobs in the hallways. Both girls trekked to their dormitory and changed out of their school uniforms, Hermione favoring a Muggle outfit of jeans and a jumper, and Raven immediately, if unsurprisingly, selected her normal cloaked attire. Hermione hadn't spoken to her since lunch, but she didn't seem put out. Raven was surprised, therefore, when she broke the silence between them as they exited Hogwarts castle. "Would you like a tutor?" she asked hopefully.

The empath twisted her lips in an unreadable expression. "It would undoubtedly be useful."

"I received an 'O' on the Arithmacy OWL, as well as in History of Magic, Runes, and Potions. I haven't taken Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures, or Herbology since fifth year, but I'm sure I'm more than capable of getting you up to speed."

"I've no doubt about upon that point."

The Gryffindor pressed doggedly onward. "I'm not entirely sure what Professor Snape has in mind for his private lessons, but I would like to assist in any way I can. If it's Legillimacy he's after, I have a few books I can loan you on the subject."

"Thank you. I may take you up on that offer; however, I have every confidence that Severus Snape will provide hands-on practice for whatever he sees fit to instruct."

Hermione shot Raven a look she couldn't quite read, and they proceeded on in silence.

At the Quidditch pitch, the sorceress regretted her agreement almost instantly. Her eyes were assaulted by crimson and gold uniforms, and many more people than she'd expected. There were...what, fourteen, fifteen students? She was under the impression, after having listened to Harry and Ron about the rules and game discription, that there weren't this many people on a team.

"Hey girls!" Ron called. He introduced Raven to many of the teammembers, including Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Dean Thomas, among newer recruits. Many of them were reserve players, and they arrived for practices to keep from getting rusty and to provide an equal amount of players to divide into two teams. Ginny played the opposing team's Seeker, with the others taking up their traditional roles. Cormac McLaggen was absent, after having quit the team in a fit of indignation. That left Ron as the only Keeper. It didn't take long before it was unanimously agreed by the team that Raven should fill that position, since it was a simple role to fill.

"You do know how to ride a broomstick, right?" Ron asked suddenly.

After several failed attempts to successfully manage a broom, and after having displayed all the grace of a pregnant cow doing so, Raven threw up her hands - figuratively - and announced she would simply watch. The team would have none of it, however, and demanded she continue trying. If she hadn't secretly wanted to play this exciting game, she never would have persisted.

Ten minutes later, and failed flying lessons by the entire team later, the sorceress gave into temptation. She didn't know why she did it, really, and in retrospect it may have been an imprudent decision made rashly by her longing for fun. Raven would kick herself later for exposing her power of flight...not because it was a mistake, but because she made the decision out of emotion.

In any case, the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team watched in amazement as the blue-hooded girl levitated in the air without the aid of a broomstick to match their elevation. Hermione had a tight-lipped smile as she hollered up at her. "We'll add flying to your list of talents, shall we?"

Raven shrugged.

Once their momentary shock had worn off, the team had grown considerably excited with her natural advantage. The game started, and Raven took her position as Keeper for Ginny's team. Her eyes watched the Quaffle as it was passed back and forth between players with perfectly executed speed. The opposing team had yet to make a run for the goal, as the Chasers were quite adept at intercepting one another's tosses. Meanwhile, she had to keep aware of the Bludgers making the rounds, and more than once she had to duck as she sensed the black balls in her peripheral vision. Ginny and Harry were hovering far above their heads, keeping a sharp lookout for the golden Snitch, and more than likely making conversation her.

At last, Katie Bell broke through the defense and charged the goals, Quaffle tucked under her arm like an American football, and Raven readied herself to block the attempt. The Chaser made a beeline for the center hoop, but Raven smelled a feint. Instead of remaining where she was, the empath swooped to her right, just as Katie dived left and hurled the ball with all her strength. The Quaffle zoomed straight for the Azthranian's head, and it was through pure, reflexive instinct that Raven shot her hand up, her pupils dissolving into white. The red ball was engulfed in black energy and stopped dead still in the middle of its flight path.

The entire field was silent and motionless. Until...

"She's joining the team, right?" Ron shouted from his end of the pitch. With that, everybody regained their voices, some exclaiming the coolness, others demanding she be permanently assigned the position of Keeper for Gryffindor. The sorceress was quiet throughout the whole excitement...there was a small part of her, which she would never admit to, that swelled with happiness as she was treated with acceptence and enthusiasm. Sure it was only temporary, she reasoned, but this moment felt...good.

Harry had rejoined the group on the ground by this time. "As much as I'd love for you to join the team, Raven, there are rules about having to use broomsticks, and not using magical means to aid your game playing." He looked at her apologetically.

The cloaked girl nodded without any apparent disappointment. "I understand," she replied. "I'm not much of a team player, anyway. But this was fun, and thank you for making me do it." And it was the truth. She wouldn't have wanted to actually join a team...just this little bit was perfect, and she didn't want to overdo it.

For the rest of the game, she sat in the stands with Hermione and watched.

"You may not be able to join the team," Harry told her later after practice. He had pulled her aside for a private conversation on the way back to the castle. "But there's another team I'd like you to join."

Raven tilted her head in curiosity, encouraging him to continue.

"I run a sort of...club...that's kept secret from most of the student body and faculty. We named it 'Dumbledore's Army'. Long story, but it's basically a student-run organization that learns defence against the Dark Arts. And...sometimes...when the situation calls for it..."

"You put it into practice," Raven finished for him.

Harry blushed. "Yeah, basically. You're already assisting the Order of the Phoenix, and you'd make a great addition to the DA. The other members would respect you and want you to be there, I promise. We're all good folk and take safety very carefully."

She managed a half-smile. "Why not."

Harry beamed at her. "Absolutely super! Here, take this," he handed her a gold coin. "When it heats up, it means the date and time of the next meeting has been updated. We meet in the Room of Requirement, which any of us members can show you. You're safe to talk to me, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny about it in confidence. There are plenty others involved, but you'll meet them there."

"Swell."

"I can't wait," the Gryffindor said brightly.


At exactly 7:25, Raven appeared in the dungeon hallway in front of the Potions classroom and knocked on the heavy wooden door. A harsh voice from inside snapped "Enter!" and she pushed it open, grimacing as it creaked noisily on its hinges. The classroom was dark and smelled of many ingredients, none of which the empath could identify. There was the unrelenting dank scent of mildew and stagnated water, though she could hear no drips or see any mold. Dungeons were meant to smell like this, she supposed. It was cold and moist, oppressive and dark...much like the gaunt figure sitting behind the enormous desk.

Snape didn't bother looking up from his marking as she walked in with some hesitation. Nor did he pause in his marking when she closed the door behind her and strode up to his desk to stand before it expectently.

Raven considered breaking the silence, but thought better of it. He was in the middle of grading essays, and even though she was on time, he may be running a bit behind schedule. She took this time to look about the classroom. Rows of wooden tables and benches filled most of the room. A podium was standing in front off to one side of the desk, and two wooden doors stood opposite one another on each side of the room. They were separate from the door to the classroom, and she briefly wondered where they lead.

Five minutes passed before Snape set his quill down and looked up at her over his hooked nose. "You were early. I instructed you to be here at 7:30. Since you cannot seem to follow even the simplest of instructions, I have few expectations our meetings shall be in the least bit productive."

"Better three hours too soon than one minute too late, Professor."

"Quoting Shakespeare will not elevate my opinion of you, nor does it excuse your failure to comply with my directions, Miss Roth."

The sorceress fought a heavy sigh. "I'm sure your opinion of me can do nothing other than improve, I'll not argue with your ill sense of punctuality, and I've already requested you call me by my first name. Shall we move on to the subject of this meeting, or shall we continue to banter?"

Snape glared and rose from his chair to his full height. In two strides, he had rounded his desk and was towering over the younger woman with a horrible sneer on his face. "While you are in this castle, Miss Roth," he drew out nastily, "you are subject to its rules and regulations. The most important of those being respect for those in authority."

Raven's mouth flattened in irritation. She attributed his petty behavior to the distressing events last afternoon and lingering embarrassment of the night before last. He was a very guarded person, she had gathered, and part of his defense was a prickly offense. Biting words, condesention, stinging sarcasm, and pettiness all were used as protective barriers. Sound familiar? her inner voice reminded her. "My apologies. I would never wish to disrespect you."

The potions master whipped to one of the side doors without acknowledging her capitulation. "Wait here," he commanded as he disappeared through the doorway.

The cloaked sorceress sighed and shifted her weight. Her eyes swept over the many shelves lining the stone walls covered in jars and other novelties. She walked over to them and inspected the displayed items, staring in speculative analysis at the severed fingers floating in jars, ears, organs, and other various and sundry items adorning the shelves. She came across a dagger like instrument sheathed in a hilt. The hilt was made of some kind of material she couldn't quite place. It couldn't be leather. The monogram was quite elaborate, with snakes and a skull, and runes.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she tentatively reached out a hand to touch it.

"Don't!" Snape's voice was like a whipcrack, unexpected in the near perfect silence. Raven jumped and froze in mid-motion. He had apparently returned without her knowing it, which was quite an accomplishment, in her case.

"I'm sorry," she spoke mildly. "What's it made of?"

He regarded her assessingly.

"Skin," he said briefly.

Raven felt something spasm inside her. She wasn't going to ask from what creature. Snape, however, seemed to grin in... amusement ...consideration ...Raven couldn't quite tell. Snape wasn't about to bother detailing the account of the Dark Lord's resurrection and how that knife had been used. He was merely content with watching her react about the material of the hilt.

A moment later, he swept to the desk and set something down, then turned back to her. The demoness looked past him onto the table and saw a stone basin...and she immediately recognized what it was. "In order for you to better get a handle on what normal Death Eater meetings are like, it has been...decided...that the best method will be to show you. These are a few select memories of meetings that should be somewhat similar to what you can expect."

The empath frowned unpleasantly at the swirling contents of the Pensive.

Snape read the look on her face and softened just a bit. "It was not my choice that it should be this way." He suddenly sneered, as if to suppliment his remark, which could have been construed as almost compassionate. "Come now, you must undoubtedly be accustom to Dark masters and their followers."

Raven stiffined visibly, stung by his vicious attack. Then it suddenly struck her. Snape was lashing out to deflect attention from what otherwise might be considered a tender remark. Then she recalled what exactly he had been forced to do... Submitting his personal, painful memories must be very difficult for him. Losing his privacy to a relative stranger on someone else's orders is unthinkable. She couldn't even imagine how horrible and stripping that would be. And yet, he'd even tried to console her just a little bit...tried to ease her own discomfort.

On an impulse, Raven decided to respond to the action, rather than the hurtful words. "Thank you," she said softly. "I can't imagine how it must feel, having to do this for me."

Severus looked sharply at her for a moment with a piercing gaze, almost as if he thought she was mocking him, and opened his mouth to respond. Then he just looked away and centered the Pensive at the front of the desk, even though it didn't need adjusting.

Raven smirked suddenly. "Mind you, with my extensive background, if you could manage a simple hand-out next time, it'd be much easier."

Snape made a choking sound, and glared at her. He seemed to be struggling for words. "Miss Roth," he said in the end. "I had almost convinced myself that being stuck with you for evenings on end might be a bearable experience. I may need to reconsider." The words were harsh, but the tone lacked the whiplash bite. In fact, viewed from a certain angle, it could nearly be a compliment. She could swear that she caught a hint of amused appreciation in his eyes. To stop herself considering the implications of this, she moved towards him and positioned herself in front of the stone bowl. Without another moment's hesitation, she lowered her face into the contents.


A/N: "The better part of valour is discretion." King Henry IV, part I