Chapter 1: How did we get here?
Well, I certainly didn't imagine the start of my sixth year in Hogwarts like this.
"Detention, Miss. Tonight, after dinner. And consider another 10 points taken from your house." he hisses the words, with an incredibly annoyed face. I look around, to see my classmates glare at me, everyone in their respective seat eyeing my blackened face caused by my exploded potion. I only intended to make it change color, and bubble out of the cauldron by mixing up the order of the ingredients, but alas, here I stand with black, slimy face, sighing in defeat. I wasn't expecting this, my prank went too far.
Ever since I can remember, I've always been a rebel. I never let my parents tell me what to do, or lay rules out for me, I strongly believed in absolute freedom my whole life. Fortunately, I was blessed with super understanding parents, so I didn't have much problem living my days a bit out of control. One day, when I was eight, my mother sat down with me, telling me about our family's unique healing power, called the Soul Strings. I was surprised, to say the least, but my heart got excited at the thought of having something no one else had. She showed me how they work once my dad was attacked by a death eater. Dad was laying on his back on the floor, huffing in pain, his body covered in cuts and bruises, his scalp bleeding slightly. Mom squatted next to his head, reaching out her hand, just a few inches from dad's hair. Faint, white strings came out from her fingertips, making their way under dad's head, disappearing at his nape. I observed as his body healed in mere seconds, pulling the cuts together, making the bruises vanish in a heartbeat. Mom told me that we use these strings to connect with the injured person's brain, taking over, as long as the healing goes on. With dad, she sped up the body's regenerative system, giving orders to the body in the name of the brain. Any kind of healing a person needs, we were able to provide it, as long as the victim still has his head intact.
So, from the frail age of eight, my mom taught me everything she knew about healing. Soon I discovered, that with a scalpel, one can save lives but kill also. I could use my power anytime to cause pain, fail organs, and do irreversible damage in one's body, but I always refrained from doing so, since I chose to stay in the light, so to say. I was so happy when I got to heal my mom's finger after she cut it during cooking, and I was only nine years old. The years passed, and my rebellion simmered down thanks to my overwhelming fascination with healing and my strings, always reading about it, always practicing on the kids in the neighborhood. My best friend, as strange as that seemed to my parents, was a boy down my street, Drax Donovan. He was quite the tomboy, always ending up with minor injuries, and me, always being there for him, healing scar after scar. We were the same age, closest to each other among children, and when we both got our letter from Hogwarts, we couldn't be happier. And the fact that we got sorted in the same house quadrupled the joy in our heart. Two twelve-year-old children, curious about the secrets of the wizarding world.
The first two years we floated through the school terms, fascinated by every single class, always discovering something new, always experiencing something jaw-dropping. The only bitter taste was brought by our potions professor, Severus Snape, who seemed to wake up every day with a broomstick up his ass, making his daily mission to transform the student's experience into a miserable nightmare. We adored every other class, we lived for charms with Flitwick, jumped with joy for transfiguration with McGonagall, had butterflies in our stomachs at DADA with Lupin, and giggled our way through Herbology with Sprout. Sinistra made my eyes sparkle, each time she illustrated the constellations or planets for us, and we were practically prophets with Drax in Trelawney's class. We were at the top, every teacher adored us. Every teacher, except one. Snape was convinced, we were just a bunch of arrogant snotheads, who showed off their talents at every opportunity we could get. And he made sure to humble us in his class with snide remarks and soft insults. Whatever we did, it was never enough for Snape, it was like he constantly searched for an error in our work, so he could have an excuse to take points from our house. Seeing this, I got mad like never before, and I started putting extra effort in my potion studies, just so I can shove his insults back in his face. I was obsessed with potions, fueled by my own rage, I studied like no other student before me. In second year, whatever the bat asked me, I knew the perfect answer, no exceptions. Third year however, brought a big change.
At the start of third year, Drax dragged me in an alcove in our dorm, telling me his biggest, newly discovered secret: he was attracted to boys. I was so happy for him, but saddened at the same time, knowing that his sexuality will be met with so much judgment, and possibly bullying if anyone ever found out. The thought that he was doomed to solitude until we graduated broke my heart in tiny pieces. He was such a gorgeous boy too, short, wavy black hair, sea blue eyes, pointy nose, and plump lips with a killer body, lean muscles, slightly wide chest, and a narrow waist with long athletic legs. If I wasn't his best friend, and he wasn't attracted to boys, I would have gone on a date with him long ago. I wasn't attracted to him per se, I just always found him gorgeous among boys. My type was a bit different. I couldn't quite put my finger on it yet, but my taste definitely had more… depth to it. With this change, Drax became more retracted, still supporting me, but definitely stepping out from the spotlight. People didn't make much of it, the teachers said he's probably maturing, and his childish enthusiasm is simmering down. I felt relieved the students weren't suspicious of him, this way he could support me from the shadows, and receive my full support at the same time.
I however, had enough of Mr. Grumpy's way of life, and decided, that starting third year, I will give him a run for his money, if he wanted to pick a fight with the wrong person. This was definitely the wrong neighborhood, Professor. Snape's way of treating children started to irk me in ways I couldn't explain, it was like a nasty itch in a place I just wasn't able to reach. His overall style and the absolute arrogance he carried himself with rubbed me the wrong way, and I chose to take matters in my own hands. My plan was divided in two parts: stay at the top of my class, always be prepared, always know the answer for anything, but occasionally do a major slip-up that would cause him a huge inconvenience, and blaming it on something silly like not paying attention, sleepiness, slip of hand, etc. And secondly, giving him hell verbally, anytime I get the opportunity. Have a clever comeback at all times, maybe humiliating him a bit, not so much to get into the headmaster's office, but just enough so I can see his face contort in annoyance and anger. And I did just that. I was prepared for endless detention from the bat, which he gave me abundantly, after I blew up something in the classroom, endangered my classmates, or just played a prank on him. One time I was scrubbing cauldrons for a week, because I told him in front of the whole class, he should follow my example in washing my hair, after he insulted my locks smelling of 'too much perfume'. I was ruthless with him. And as time went by, I could see his patience wearing thinner by the day. We got to a point, where he sent me to detention just for not stepping out of his way fast enough on the corridor when we passed each other. His glare was a constant on his face when I was in the classroom, and students started calling me Snape's nemesis, since whatever he did, however many detentions and punishments he gave me, he just couldn't overcome me. I was his best and worst student, all in one. Drax asked me how on earth I wasn't mortified by the sheer volume of fury the dungeon bat was projecting on me, but I just told him, that he deserves it, after being such a stuck-up with us. So, three years passed this way, constantly pulling his nerves but doing a flawless job so he didn't have a hold on me.
Last year, however, just one week before the summer vacation begun, I got a little surprised when I accidentally spilled ink on my desk as I stood up to leave the classroom. I was the last to leave, and the spill was truly an accident this time. The terror-professor stood up from his desk and approached me, stopping mere inches before my body. Only then I realized he was taller than me by a head. He had a deep frown on his face, looking down on me, and I was prepared for a scolding, like I'm the clumsiest bubblehead in the world or something, but to my utter shock, he just yanked out his wand dramatically from his robe, and cleaned up the mess. I was so flabbergasted; I could only ask:
"What? No detention?" my voice sounded insurgent.
His features changed from frowning into a somewhat proud expression.
"You are dismissed." he drawled quietly in the empty classroom, making the hairs on my arms stand on end at his voice. The feeling it provoked in me was unexpected and absolutely forbidden. Since when was his voice so sensual?... I ran off into my summer vacation with Drax, trying to push this weird encounter in the back of my head.
So now, here I am, the beginning of my sixth year at Hogwarts, managing getting detention on the first week by Snape. I lift my hand and knock on the hardwood door of the potions classroom. Said door flies open before me, granting entrance, and I step inside with the biggest poker face I can muster, deep down having just a dot of fear, since the potioner's punishments have gotten much worse over time. The man of the hour is sitting at his desk, nonchalantly grading parchment, only he was known to be so cruel as to give tests on the first week of school.
"I have come to serve detention, professor." I say in a mocking tone, smiling, like a slave speaking to her landlord, my tone cuts the air between us. He looks up from his paper, irritation already dancing on his face, then he leans back in his chair, folding his hands together.
"I see you came back with your tongue sharp as ever. Well, let's see if you will be in the mood for smart comments after you finish today's task. You will extract the mucus of the Flobberworms I prepared for you on that workstation in the corner. Without using your wand." he points towards the metal desk with a built-in sink.
"How am I supposed to extract their mucus without using my wand?" I ask outraged, throwing my hands in the air, frowning at him.
"By massaging them, of course. I thought you knew this much." he said feigning innocence "You massage their body, bringing the mucus to the surface, and then you squeeze it in the bowl." he says with an evil sneer, and for the first time in my life I wish I could hit a teacher. My anger starts to boil inside me, as I trample over to the workstation with five huge Flabberworms in front of me. I look around for the necessary protective gloves, but find none. I turn to him, irked by his calm mocking attitude.
"Where are the protective gloves?" I bite the words at him.
"Oh, you will not be in need of those." he states, not even looking up from the paper.
"What? Are you insane? Their mucus will burn my skin if they come in contact!" I say with horror in my voice, the last thing I need now is going back to my dorm with burned hands.
"Watch your language, Miss." he drawled in a threatening tone, his voice piercing through my chest. Well, I was not one to back up so easily, mister.
"Or what? You're going to endanger your student's health just because I ruined a potion? How childish can you be?" I retort, secretly hoping he will get angry enough to let me back to my dorm. I couldn't be more wrong.
"For that piece of insult, you will stay here an extra hour, and five points will be taken from your house. Now, do you still have the drive to spar me verbally, or can we proceed with our tasks?" he raises an eyebrow, condescending gaze running all over me. I huff in frustration, and turn to the poor worms. Well, time to get nasty.
My stomach turns upside down as I'm squeezing the last Flabberworm into the big bowl. The greenish mucus dribbles into the designated dish, and I get a bit lightheaded. As I set down the now dry worm, I lean my back to the wall next to me, the dungeon bat fully in my vision. I glance at the clock, it's ten past. I sigh out the accumulated tension in my body, the noise gaining Snape's attention. He looks at me with a softer look now, since I worked in complete silence, struggling to keep myself from vomiting the whole time. But I squeezed them dry for you, you bastard! As I calm down a bit, I start to feel the stinging pain on both of my hands, the first layer of skin definitely gone, burned away by the acidity of the mucus. Great, now I can go to sleep with a throbbing pair of hands. Thanks a lot, oh, mighty dungeon bat! Seeing my distress, Snape gets up, and disappears into the storage next door. I hear some rustling and clattering, and a few seconds later, the dark professor returns with a black jar the size of his hand. He approaches me quickly, and I don't even have time to react, he opens the container, sets it on the desk, then grabs my wrist a little too forcefully for my liking. I see a beige color as he removes the lid. He gathers a copious amount of ointment on his finger, and carefully starts to apply it on my burned area, leaving me surprised there with my back to the wall, and his body too close. He works the ointment in my skin with skill, drawing circles in my palm, softly caressing my fingers, and after he finishes, he does the same for my other hand. He has a stern expression the whole time, the same he always wears in the classroom, but in his movements, there is something caring, something warm. My thoughts are running a thousand miles an hour, I watch his hands as he works with precision, and somehow, I find his ministrations soothing, not just because of the balm he was applying, but the whole gesture was unexpected and caring. Like he wanted to dull the sharpness of his punishment somehow.
After he finished, he looked in my eyes, keeping the emotionless face.
"I do hope, this was enough punishment for you to think twice before doing something reckless again. But knowing you, I think I'll see you in my classroom soon enough. You have a weird obsession with dancing on my nerves, the only question is, why. I have yet to figure out why my best student is enthralled by seeing me irate, but I assure you, I can make your life a living hell here in Hogwarts, should you not cease playing games with me. Now get out of my sight, and I don't want to see you here again, or you will regret ever challenging me, young Miss." Snape threatened me in his low voice and that strange feeling from last year showed up in me again. What was this feeling? And why did it come out only when Snape spoke to me in this low tone?
I quickly gathered my stuff and ran out the door into the cold air of the dungeons. The atmosphere soothed my heated skin, as I took quick steps down the corridor and then up the stairs, trying desperately to figure out what the tingling sensation in my lower abdomen meant…