Prompt: Children (#316)

January 1992

It was double Potions class; Gryffindor and Slytherin first years. Possibly the class that caused him the worst headaches for several reasons.

The first being, as was usually the case between Gryffindor and Slytherin, the incessant fighting; never conducive to good Potion brewing, but at least he was always capable of keeping this to a minimum.

The second being that damn Longbottom boy. He'd never met anyone worse at Potions, and he had half a mind to forever ban the boy from his class. However, Dumbledore would never allow it, so he simply had to make due and be extra vigilant for disaster whilst counting down to the moment where he could refuse the boy if he dared apply for his NEWTs class.

The third, being having to stare at the blasted Potter boy, who was the spitting image of his father with his unruly hair and large glasses. Unfortunately the boy had his mother's green eyes that had once, and only once, managed to catch him off guard. And as much as he burned to abuse the boy, to somehow put him in his place, he simply couldn't because of the Girl.

The Potter's first born was possibly his greatest problem.

The Potter girl, was so very nearly identical to her brother, that she could easily be mistaken for a boy. However, where the Boy's face was a bit more square, the Girl's was marginally longer and softer. And while the Girl's hair was equally messy, it was slightly longer, which coincidentally made it look shaggier. What was worst, her emerald-green, almond-shaped eyes were not hidden behind hideous glasses, and when set on him, had an undiluted effect on his person.

Severus wasn't quite sure what to make of the Girl.

From the very first night in the castle, she was a proverbial sphinx. Severus wasn't quite sure when any single student's sorting had been such a hot topic of discussion amongst the staff, and no one was more surprised than Severus by the Girl's sorting into Slytherin. Especially after her twin had just continued the long Potter tradition of being sorted into Gryffindor.

In her first Potions class, she showed herself to be a force to be reckoned with, or at the very least that her temper was.

Unfortunately, while she seemed to have inherited her mother's fiery personality and eyes, she had inherited none of her talent for Potions. She was almost as atrocious at Potions as Longbottom, where as the Boy, much to his chagrin, proved himself adequate enough in the practical aspect of the class. Though Severus wasn't wholly convinced the boy wasn't getting by without some help from Granger.

Though Severus tried to ignore the Girl, it was slightly difficult when she happened to be in his House. For the most part, he was successful. However, there were things she did that he simply could not ignore. Like hitting Malfoy with her brass telescope. Though, he still didn't quite understand what that had been about only that the Potter boy had somehow been involved.

It would seem that the Girl felt fiercely protective of her twin. Though why she felt so strongly about protecting her brother was a mystery to him. Perhaps the girl knew she was the elder sibling. Or there was some innate feeling that came with being the first born, where the younger siblings were concerned.

However, the girl was a mystery. From what little he saw of her, he gathered she was mostly an aloof child. Then came the bloody Holidays and he'd seen two things that had befuddled him. The first being, seeing the Girl shower actual affection on that buffoon Hagrid, affection that he had not seen her show to anyone excepting her twin during that first Quidditch match.

Then had been the worst, seeing those stunning, emerald eyes of her's swollen with tears.

He'd had very little choice but to give her his silken handkerchief (a Christmas gift from Narcissa some years ago), at a complete loss as he was at what to do to comfort a sniveling child; a sniveling child with her eyes.

Though why he'd allowed her to keep his handkerchief was beyond him. After all, the thing was charmed so it never became sullied.

Glaring at yet another poorly written essay, Severus swept his gaze around the dungeon classroom, wondering why he was ruminating so much on the Potter children... the Girl specifically. Sure... he'd promised to protect them... for Lily, but the reality was they weren't any different than any other child in his life, even if they were significantly smaller than the other first years (to the point that he was actually quite concerned that their growth was stunted or they were malnourished).

And children really, were the bane of his existence. Often, Severus wondered at the fact that he'd ever been one himself.

Scowling out at the many little faces hovering over their brewing cauldrons, his eyes drifted unconsciously over to the Girl, in the hopes that she was at very least managing with the assignment for today. He wasn't sure he could deal with a Potter or Longbottom catastrophe today.

He was somewhat startled when his eyes were instead met by the girl's gaze. Her eyes immediately lowered, and a faint trace of pink alit her cheeks as her unruly hair fell to shade her face.

Frowning, he wondered what that was about as he tore his gaze away to take in the rest of the class. Not once had the Girl struck him as shy, or bashful. In fact, he was increasingly growing to think of her as rather shameless.

Was she embarrassed he'd seen her crying, he wondered before shaking his head telling himself firmly that he didn't care and if he wondered, it was simply because she was Lily's daughter, and she was in his House making her his direct responsibility, as all Slytherins were.

XxX

Violet sat awake in the Slytherin common room. It was something close to two in the morning, so the room was empty of anyone else.

Though she could feel the darkness of the room pressing in around her as the green lanterns that hung overheard on chairs were doused, she found that she wasn't disturbed by the darkness.

Huddled on the end of the couch, her school cloak wrapped tightly around her, she hugged her knees to the chest and in her hands, she absently rubbed the silken piece of cloth she held.

Absently, her gazed stared at the roaring fire in the hearth before her.

They'd had astronomy that night, and Violet wasn't sure why, but she hadn't been able to sleep since they'd gotten back.

She hadn't spoken to Harry since the night before the mirror. She'd avoided him, as much as he'd avoided her after the incident. But... she still felt bad about the things she said to him, even if what she said was just the truth.

But she didn't want Harry to hurt. And much less, she didn't want him to hate her.

They were all each other had... before. Though she supposed now, he had Ron and Hermione. Perhaps, he didn't really need her. Perhaps Ron and Hermione, didn't tell him the things that he didn't want to hear.

Harry... he liked to avoid the ugly things in life, as much as it was possible at least. Or... he was much more passive about things. He went more easily with their lot in life, accepted it better than she'd ever had. And somehow, he was able to let it go, and still look at the good in life.

Violet didn't know how to do that anymore, she wasn't even sure if she ever really had. She didn't see the good. Whatever appeared good, she looked at with suspicion. She watched it, dissected in, and when she found the bad, she focused on it and ignored the good, if it was ever there to begin with.

For the most part, she'd stopped sharing her observations with Harry, many years ago. She knew they upset him, and usually lead to arguments between them, and Violet didn't want to fight with her brother.

But that night... it had hurt and her temper had flared and she'd said things to Harry, that she knew he wouldn't want to accept.

Chewing on her lip, she regretted her anger. It always made her say or do stupid things. Things that she wouldn't do if she were calm.

Being angry never really solved anything. People didn't react favorably to anger and usually she tried to keep it hidden from everyone, even if she wasn't always successful.

Pretending... that's what people liked. When she smiled at them sweetly. When she looked at them with her eyes wide, through her lashes. When she spoke pretty, polite words, or giggled at something that wasn't terribly clever or amusing. When she behaved like a happy child and gave them her rapt attention like they were gods.

It wasn't that Violet was miserable. Most of the time, she could ignore the fact that her parents were dead, that she was raised by awful relatives, and that she and Harry had to share an uncomfortably tight space for the first eleven years of their life.

But sometimes... sometimes her chest felt like it would cave in under the pressure of absolutely everything that her life entailed.

TBC...