"Hell has no rage like love turned to hatred, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned." –William Congreve
Chapter 14
After having had to argue with some prowling Aurors that yes I was a student, and yes I did have a pass, I made my way into Hogsmeade.
Being the first entirely magical community I'd ever seen, I took my time looking around. The town itself was odd, reminding me of a much shabbier Diagon Alley. I could see actual houses settled between a few of the buildings, though the majority were located farther away from what I'm sure was considered 'down town'.
I took note of the kiddy attractions like the gigantic candy store, a bright, colorful shop called Honeydukes Sweetshop. There was an old boarded up joke shop formerly called Zonko's and according to a sign out front it was currently under construction.
I spotted the Three Broomsticks easily and briefly wondered if I shouldn't just head over to the post office and check out their bulletin board.
Deciding to just go in, I walked over and opened the creaky pub door.
The interior was warm and comfortable. There were several scuffed and highly polished booths and tables around the room, many of them empty. A long rectangular mirror hung over the bar, which undoubtedly had a very expensive Revelation Charm cast over it that was connected directly with the local Ministry sub-division to make sure known criminals, or those hidden behind spells, charms, and whatever else, did not enter the establishment. No doubt a new development.
The establishment's only customers were seated at a nearby table having a late lunch. An admittedly well-dressed couple, they only spared me a glance before returning to their conversation.
"Hello there, can I get you anything?" An older, busty woman asked me as I approached the bar.
"Actually I'm looking for work. I was told that you had a position available." I said slowly taking a seat on one of the stools.
"That we do. I'll have to have you fill out an application and send an owl to the Ministry." She warned, looking me steadily in the eyes as she poured me a glass of water.
"Of course."
"Right then. I'm Madam Rosmerta so you'll be answering to me if everything goes aright." She said, handing me the glass.
"Thanks. I'm Astrid." I said, taking the drink.
"Nice to meet you, Astrid. Now just let me nip around back before we start."
It only took her a moment to leave through a staff door and come back, a short scroll of parchment in hand.
"Here we are. Go ahead and fill this out while I see to that lot over there." She said, referring to a small group of older looking wizards who had just come through the door.
I nodded and took the offered quill she handed me.
The application was your standard wizard application. Have I ever had the green spots? Did I have any major magical allergies? Could I tell the difference between a glass that was half-full and half-empty? Have I ever been involved in any illegal activity?
Except for a few changes in my personal information, such as my name and address, I had little difficulty filling it out.
"Finished?"
"Yes." I said, handing it to her as she mixed the men a few drinks.
She ran her eyes across it and then seemed to blink, as if she'd misread something.
"You're a Sweetblood?" She asked suddenly, looking over at me with a newfound intensity.
Her reaction to my name spoke volumes about what sort of people my relatives had been. I'd have to ask Zabini about them later.
"Sorta. I just moved here recently from America to visit some distant relations of mine. My father just died recently so I was brought here to stay with my godparents, the Weasleys. They were very patient with me when I stayed with them over the summer." I said, stretching the truth a little.
"Oh so you're a Yank. I knew you were from somewhere. Well I'm sorry for your loss. I hope it all works out for you." She said losing a bit of her interest.
"Thanks. So–yeah. I changed my name to Sweetblood yesterday when I inherited a home from my mother. I never knew her. And I was told that her family had passed away sometime after she met my father." I explained, shifting in my seat a little.
"If you look under aliases I put down my former surname, Vanderhorn. I will answer to either." I said trying to change the direction of the interview.
"Okay." She read on, her eyebrows rising as she went over my qualifications and work experience.
"It says here you have nearly five years of waiting tables, at least two of those years spent working the bar at a place called, the Broken Wand." She said, her tone inflecting stern skepticism.
"Yes, Ma'am, that's correct." I admitted, nodding.
Her face took on the look of someone who knows their being duped and she arched an eyebrow at me as she wiped down the counter, the other hand gesturing with the application.
"Now I'm not too keen on muggle regulations, but even here you have to be at least seventeen before you are allowed to handle any drinks stronger than butterbeer."
"I understand. No, you see this was an informal business transaction. A friend's friend hired me and as long as I looked and acted responsibly they didn't care how old I was. The bartender quit one night in the summer of my third year and I had to take over until a replacement showed up. After that," I shrugged, "I guess they thought I was better at mixing drinks and working the register than walking the tables."
She seemed to consider me for a moment, running a critical eye over me.
"I can see why." She said bluntly, making my face warm a little to my utmost shame. Her lips quirked up in a smile as she noted my reaction and mercifully changed the subject.
"What were you're duties there exactly?" She asked, refilling one of her customer's mugs.
"At first I took orders and brought drinks to paying customers then I ultimately began handling the money and mixing the drinks. I know I'm young, but I do have experience. More experience probably than someone who's worked here for as long as I worked at the Broken Wand. It was a very–" I took a breath, "adult environment. There were times when I found myself responsible for settling down the customers or diffusing heated arguments. Because of my experience you'll find me to be a very capable, dependable person. I am extremely confident in my ability to provide competent, and quality service for any being that walks in here." I finished firmly.
I had been watching her carefully while I tried to sell myself and relaxed inwardly with a gusty sigh of relief. Despite any misgivings she'd had, Madam Rosemerta was nevertheless impressed by my presentation.
I so nailed it.
"Well—hold on a moment." She left to clear the couple's table and see to the gentlemen. More people were starting enter the pub and she quickly took their orders. When she came back she was still presenting me an uncertain face.
But you're going to hire me anyway, I thought smugly.
"Alright. I just don't fancy the thought of someone so young working behind the bar. I'd rather have you wait tables with the others, but..." She sighed heavily, considering my application again.
But she needed the help. It can be down right ugly when only one person it trying to work the register and mix the drinks.
"Others?" I asked politely, noticing that her eyes kept going back to my name.
What's bothering her? Were they Death Eaters or something?
"Yes, some other students came in yesterday looking for work too." She revealed absently.
"Oh." I forced myself to be patient while she 'made up her mind'.
Taking a drink from my glass to pass the time, I looked over the room. It was clean, warm, and welcoming. By the way the place was filling up I could assume they got a fair amount of business, especially after hours. But if that was the case where was everybody else? There should be at least three people working both the tables and the bar.
"You'll have to do. When are you available?" The question brought my attention back to Madam Rosmerta and I set down my glass.
"I'll be available at any time after four. Except on weekends. On weekends I can come in around one. And then of course there's curfew but I'm not exactly sure when that is."
"I believe I was told working students have to be back inside the castle gates by ten-thirty. I have all the help I need for the weekends, so if you can work during the week from five to ten that would be perfect. I'd be willing to pay you a little more than the others seeing as you have experience. What do you say to nine Sickles an hour?"
Hell yes I'll take that. That's about twel—no, thirteen Galleons a week!
I checked myself and thought it over. The cost of living here could be higher than it was in the States, but even then she said she was going to pay me more than the other students...
What the hell.
Besides, this could be the only job I can get if the Sweetbloods were Voldemort supporters.
"Sounds fine. When can I start?" I asked, standing up.
"Tomorrow. When you get here I'll go over my policy rules with you."
"Perfect. Thank you, Madam Rosemerta." I said respectfully, handing her back my glass as I rose.
"Of course. See you tomorrow Astrid."
"Bye." I almost felt sorry for her as she hurriedly turned away to deal with her ever increasing customers.
She's probably used to it by now.
I left the tavern and strolled down the street a ways, looking for the post office. A small knot of relief loosened in my chest.
Now I just have to find something to do on the weekends.
I spotted the post office and walked in. About three hundred owls greeted me, all of which were perched on color-coded shelves, the vibrancy and color depending on how fast you wanted your letter to travel.
Wandering over to the memo board, a wall alight with wiggling posted messages vying for attention, I began sorting through the wanted ads. I'd only been standing there for a couple minutes when a particular ad caught my eye. It'd been posted sometime this morning.
HELP WANTED!
Job pays 5G/hr.
Saturday-Sunday from 3pm-10pm
For more information contact:
Mr. and Mrs. Sappington
S.E. Underwood Lane
I'd do quite a few things for five Galleons an hour. I looked around for the letter materials and scribbled out the address on a crumpled up piece of parchment lying on the floor. I didn't have any money so I'd have to send it when I got back to school.
I left the post office quickly, wanting to get to school and send the owl as soon as possible. As I walked I did some mental calculations and smiled, scaring a couple of the owls. Working at the Three Broomsticks I'd be making roughly fifty-three Galleons a month. If I landed this job, whatever it was, I'd be making a total of nearly two hundred and eighty Galleons a month!
Granted, a large percentage would be taken away for tax purposes, but still that was damn good money.
When I arrived back at Hogwarts I asked for directions to the owlery and quickly wrote out a letter of interest for the ad on a new piece of parchment. As I copied the address off the back of the crumpled scrap I'd picked up off the floor of the post office, I noticed indentations on the back. I flipped it over but no words were visible.
Deciding to puzzle it over later I pocketed it again and gave the finished letter to a cranky barn owl. After I'd done that I headed for the library, fully intending to continue researching that Rabble Shield.
Of course if I'd known what was waiting for me near the library I would have ran directly to my common room and warded my door.
As I turned down the corridor that led to the library I heard someone's muffled scream come from behind a door I'd just passed.
Frowning I stopped and slowly approached the door, wondering what the hell was going on in there. I waited for a moment outside the door but no other sounds reached my ears. I debated with myself for a moment before drawing my wand.
"Absitde Foris." I muttered, pointing it at the door. The entire door turned red for a moment and then just as quickly green. I shrugged off my bag and dropped it beside me, kicking it out of the way.
Taking hold of doorknob, I twisted the handle and pushed. It opened easily and the sounds of a fierce struggle reached my ears. Carefully stepping inside the classroom, I saw two older students engaged in what appeared to be an extracurricular activity I had a feeling was not allowed on school grounds. Or rather they were trying to, the girl still had her clothes on.
I recognized the boy as Joseph Throckmorten. It took me a second to realize he was actually wrestling with his apparently unwilling partner, who was fairly strong. She seemed determined to kill him or die trying if her expression was anything to go by.
Somehow he'd managed to secure her right arm to the floor with a poorly altered version of a Binding Charm. Even with both hands he was having serious difficulty pinning her to the ground.
Disgusted I lowered my wand, clearing my throat loudly to let him know I was in the room. When that didn't work I held my wand out in front of me and had it emit a short-lived blaring squeal reminiscent of a muggle firework known as the Roman Candle.
Throckmorten swore vehemently, covering his ears as he fell back off the furious pale haired girl I recognized from Charms this morning.
"Bloody hell Sweetblood! Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Really. I hadn't noticed." I drawled, leaning against the doorframe. "If you were any stupider, Throckmorten, you'd have to be watered twice a week. Put your dick back in your pants and get the hell away from her. And here I was thinking Ron was the village idiot." I said making a tsking sound.
While I was baiting Throckmorten, the girl had freed herself. Taking advantage of the distraction she'd lunged beneath a nearby desk for her wand, which had been lost in the scuffle.
I now, with much satisfaction, watched her grimly approach her attacker as he proceeded to threaten me.
"…jumped-up halfblood. Why don't you bugger off before I decide to tell Malfoy what I overheard in the common room last night, eh? Wha— Merlin's balls woman!"
I laughed quietly as the girl hauled off and bloodied his nose and split open his eye for good measure. My laughter ended abruptly as I watched him leap forward and slam her into the wall.
Using his body weight, he backhanded her across the face so hard it bruised instantly. She cried out and my face darkened with remembered pain.
As he went for her again I abruptly pushed off from the doorframe and motioned angrily with my wand.
"Morsus!" The hex slammed into his side mid-strike, knocking him off his feet and to the floor, splintering a desk.
"Get up." I said mercilessly, jerking my wand towards the door.
He glared up at me from the floor, shaking all over as he held his side. Throckmorten made as if to draw his wand and I snarled incoherently, surprising him just enough so he hesitated.
I strode over to him and grabbed a hold of his shirt collar, wrenching him to his feet. I shoved him roughly out the door, my eyes hard and unforgiving. He stumbled and I helped him to the floor with a swift kick to his rear.
"Ahrg!"
He stared up at me from the flat of his back, his teeth bared in an angry mask of hatred as he clutched his side.
"You'll regret this Sweetblood! Filthy halfblooded Yank—KAAHHH!" I rammed one booted foot into his injured ribs and he just about sobbed out a plea.
Serves you right you heavy-handed asshole!
The hand I had thought to be clutching his side suddenly appeared from within the folds of his robes gripping his wand.
"ICTUS!" My eyes widened at the familiar dark curse and I jerked back, twisting out of the way. It hit the wall with a crack, fracturing the stone inlay.
I dodged behind a statue as he gritted his teeth and crawled over to the wall, using it as leverage to lift himself up.
Breathing heavily through my nose I swung around from behind the statue and stabbed my wand at him.
"Caccus!"
"Ah! I can't see!"
Throckmorten began firing spells wildly in his defense, hitting paintings and tapestries as he tried to guess my position. Ducking down behind the statue, I was only dimly aware of the shouts of surprise and alarm that rose up around us.
Taking advantage of his condition I stepped quickly from behind the statue and gestured with my wand.
"Immob-Ah!" Reacting quicker than I anticipated he sent a spell zinging towards my voice and managed to graze my shoulder.
"Sonofabitch!" It felt as if he'd gouged my arm with a red-hot poker. I felt if begin to blister and clenched my jaw, rolling to the side to avoid another spell.
"Hah! Balbutio!" He cried triumphantly, having regained his sight.
The Speech Impediment Jinx nearly hit me as someone shoved me forward. Stumbling, I lost my footing and yelled through gritted teeth as I caught myself with my injured arm.
"Caligo!" Someone from behind me cried, nailing me in the back. My head swam as the Gyrate Jinx set in, making everything wobble, roll, twist, and spin. The sickening sensation made my stomach churn. I lowered myself to my knees, hands splayed across the cold flagstones of the floor to assure myself I was on solid ground.
"Finite Incantatem!" Someone shouted. The jinx lifted instantly and I closed my eyes for a moment in relief.
My face deathly pale, I looked around the hall and noticed that the Ravenclaw girl with the pale hair was standing in front of me, wand a blur with the speed she was throwing her spells. I swallowed back bile, my throat burning as I tried to regain my equilibrium.
Ugh. Who–? Ah. Maureen. Bitch.
She was standing next to a severely battered Throckmorten, who had summoned up some kind of copious orange fog, using it as a barrier between him and the Ravenclaw's spells. They weren't powerful enough to penetrate it, ricocheting off when they came into contact with the fog.
"Stand back." I rasped, getting to my feet.
Still green with nausea, I locked my eyes on the couple's bodies, shrewdly evaluating their proficiency. They weren't even half as skilled as the damn crash test dummy.
Disgusted that I'd let down my guard and allowed myself be bested by armatures, I started across the hall.
It was easy enough to avoid their curses and I rapidly covered the ground between us.
I could see the sweat beading on their brows as they began to panic, throwing everything they could at me as I disdainfully sidestepped, twisted, ducked, and spun away from their half-assed attacks.
I shouldn't have vocalized. I guess practice always wins out. I'll have to work on that.
When I was close enough to touch the outside of the orange fog I lunged forward.
Maureen's eyes were the size of Galleons as I seized the front of her robes and thrust her towards Throckmorten. They both tumbled to the ground with surprised yells as I coolly pointed a finger at them.
Abruptly both were jerked violently off the ground by invisible hands. Maureen dropped her wand, screaming. Throckmorten was more tenacious and wrestled to free himself. I frowned, shaking him harder.
"MISS VANDERHORN!" An appalled voice tore through the corridor and disrupted my thoughts, breaking my concentration. Angry I spun around only to see a horror-stricken Professor McGonagall racing towards us.
Shouts and thuds brought my attention back to Maureen and Throckmorten. The Ravenclaw girl was already there, calmly nudging the groaning pair with her toe as she took possession of their wands.
"Enough! Stop that this instant! Miss Morgan what are you doing? Give me those! Both of you go—I said that was enough, Mr. Throckmorten! What—fine, go to the hospital wing, and take Miss McVeigh with you. As for you—Headmaster's office!"
I ignored her, too busy taking in the mess I'd made. Somehow in the last few minutes since I'd came down the corridor I had mutilated several paintings, blasted apart three statues, torn new holes in my robes, and jammed my finger.
Not to mention that I'd broken a few school rules, beat the shit out of a classmate, and completely lost my temper.
And it's not even four o'clock yet. Huh.
"Fifty points from Slytherin!" Spluttered McGonagall, as I continued to admire my handy work. The whole thing felt a bit surreal. I took note of the students gathered in the library doorway, a few of them having unmistakably been caught in the crossfire.
I felt someone gently touch me on the arm and I looked over to see the Ravenclaw watching McGonagall worriedly. The professor had turned a dangerous shade of puce, her lips nearly non-existent so tight was her mouth. Storming towards us she grabbed each of us forcibly by the arm.
"NOW, Miss Vanderhorn! With any luck expulsion will be your only punishment! Never, in all my years of teaching…" She pushed us ahead of her, letting the Ravenclaw girl lead the way to Dumbldore's office.
"Rum rocks." McGonagall said to a large gargoyle when we arrived. The statue sprang to life, jumping aside to reveal a set of stairs that lead up to what I assumed was the Headmaster's office.
"Go. I must see to the other students and that they are properly cared for." She said, exhaling heavily through her nose so her nostrils flared. She gave us one last blistering glare before heading back to the library.
I watched her go resentfully, gingerly rotating my shoulder.
Grouchy old bat.
"Coming?" My eyes flickered over to the girl and then beyond her to the staircase.
"Yeah."
We silently climbed up the steps, blinking when they began to move upwards on their own.
At the top of the stairs was an open door leading to an impressive study. It was a large, circular room with windows in which I could make out the snowy peaks of distant mountain tops. Dumbledore looked up from some papers on his desk as we reached the door, his face kindly inquiring.
"Good afternoon ladies. You may have a seat if you wish." He said, indicating two high-backed chairs facing his enormous and highly polished desk.
I took a couple steps into the room before the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I froze instantly, not moving, barely even breathing as I caught sight of what was unmistakably a phoenix, albeit a sickly one, on a golden perch.
The once handsome bird was now a bent over, ugly lump of dull red feathers and skin. It flapped its wings warningly, flinging gray-tinged feathers everywhere and exposing numerous bare patches of skin where it had already begun to molt. What feathers it had left were ruffled aggressively. It made a strange growling noise in its throat as it cocked its head, peering at me sideways with one large distrustful eye.
I actually felt the blood drain from my head. My mouth became drier than the Gobi Desert as my eyes darted from its deadly hooked talons, the vicious beak, and back again to the large talons. They were undoubtedly sharper than hippogriff talons and powerful enough to sever my arm from my shoulder.
Without warning it suddenly burst into flames before my very eyes. I started with a shocked gasp, my heart leaping into my throat.
Dumbledore chuckled, apologizing for the bird's behavior.
"He's been looking like that for days now. I was wondering when he would keel over. Ah, yes. There he is." Dumbledore said fondly, watching as a small, skinny baby phoenix was reborn from the ashes of the old one.
Pale, and a little shaken I slumped into one of the chairs, covering my face with a hand as I collected myself.
At least I came on a burning day. Ooh I hate animals.
"Care for a lemon drop?"
"I'd rather not." My partner declined, taking the seat next to me.
"Astrid?" Dumbledore asked, holding out the dish to me.
"No, thanks." I said, leaning back in my chair. I ran a hand through my hair and pointedly avoided their eyes as I stared up at the increasingly narrow ceiling. It was covered with portraits of several old witches and wizards, all of which were supposedly sleeping.
"Would you care to explain why Professor McGonagall brought you here?" He asked after a moment, politely curious.
Like these damnable paintings haven't already told you.
I glared at the paintings accusingly, some of which had cracked open one of their eyes to watch the conversation. They hastily closed them again as they saw me watching, pretending to snore.
I snorted and looked over at the girl to see if she was going to answer that one. She studiously ignored me, tracing the grooves in the armchair's fabric.
Guess not.
"Sure." I said with a noisy sigh, pushing myself into a sitting position. I rested my elbows on the armrests, lacing my fingers together.
"I was on my way to the library when I heard sounds coming from behind one of the doors. I went over to investigate and found Miss Morgan here," I nodded towards the Ravenclaw, "struggling beneath that piece of sh—ahem," I changed the colorful description into a cough, "beneath Mr. Throckmorten. I made my presence known after realizing that the physical activity was not consensual. After that, I advised him to leave her alone. He refused and told me to 'bugger off'. When I didn't he threatened me."
"Ah. Miss Morgan do you mind me asking how you came to be alone with Mr. Throckmorten?" Dumbledore asked gently, his eyes sad.
"Yes. I do."
He nodded his head slowly, shoulders rising silently in a heavy sigh.
"Very well. Continue please, Astrid."
"Somewhere in there Miss Morgan freed herself and physically attacked that bas-ahem, Mr. Throckmorten." I heard a disapproving sniff and frowned. My eyes alighted on a rather frumpy witch in frilly robes above Dumbledore's head.
"…Such foul language, it's shameful!" Her curly white hair bounced as she leaned over into a neighboring frame of another witch, both shaking their heads. I glared at the two women, my jaw taking on a stubborn cast.
At least I'd been making the effort!
"So," I said pointedly, staring straight at the two witches, "the bastard turned around and backhanded her right across the face."
"Astrid." Dumbledore said, a light reproof in his voice as he gazed at me over his spectacles. My mouth tightened. Not acknowledging the warning I continued.
"You can still see the beau he left on her face. Honestly, I'm surprised she can still open that eye." She turned towards me with her brows furrowed.
"By this time tomorrow you'll be lucky if you can eat for the pain." I told her neutrally, meeting her eyes for a moment before looking away as old memories rose to the forefront of my mind.
"Did Kevin do this?" Bridget demanded, having caught sight of the ugly purple welt covering the left side of my face.
"No. A kid threw a brick at me for scaring his dog at the playground yesterday." A much younger me lied convincingly.
Shoving the past away, I cleared my throat and went on with the story.
"At that point it became personal and I—I lost my temper. He managed to graze my shoulder, distracting me while Maureen," I spat out the name, "surprised me from behind. I wasn't thinking too clearly after that. I knew I had to disarm them so I caught them up in a spell that shook them until they dropped their wands. Around that time McGonagall showed up and tossed us in here while she sent the other two the hospital wing where I'm sure they're telling a very different story."
There were light footsteps behind me and Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in greeting.
"Ah, Severus."
I twisted around in my seat to see a sour faced Professor Snape gazing steadily back at me, holding two rather battered schoolbags in one hand which he promptly released so they fell to the floor with dull thuds.
"Miss Sweetblood," he bagan, "Mr. Throckmorten has informed me that out of jealousy you attacked both him and Miss Morgan, hitting him in the side with a curse that dislocated two of his ribs, bruising a third when you kicked him in the side when he fell. Miss McVeigh claims to have a minor concussion and a sprained ankle from the fall she took. Any thoughts as to how you should be punished?" He asked coolly.
Hundreds.
"Out of jealousy? Please spare me, Professor. I believe I made my lack of interest painfully clear to him this morning during breakfast at the table. He's clearly still feeling the sting of my rejection." I said, satisfaction coloring my voice.
"Maureen on the other hand is guilty of the crime Throckmorten is pushing on me. She's just bitter because her crush likes me and not her." I said in a patronizing tone that showed my contempt for her juvenile behavior.
"I see." He looked up at the Headmaster for a moment.
"However they promise that their families will be pressing charges unless Miss Sweetblood is dealt with appropriately. Preferably expulsion."
Dumbledore tapped his steepled fingers together as he took this in.
I tensed in my chair, watching him think. If they were going to expel me for merely dislocating that boy's ribs–! I would at least have made the punishment fit the crime and broken both his arms and chopped off his little friend.
If anyone should be expelled it should be the rapist in training. Not the damn rescuer!
"And me, sir?" The Ravenclaw asked quietly.
"You acted only under the influence of a Confundus Charm." Professor Snape said tersely.
Right. Confundus Charm. They can't possibly believe that bullshit.
I looked over at Dumbledore. I knew he thought I hadn't handled the situation properly. He no doubt would have preferred that I'd gone to get help or reported the situation to a teacher rather than handle the problem myself.
Not a chance.
He needed to be punished, and damn it, the teacher were more likely to slap his wrist.
"I fail to see the justice in punishing only Miss Sweetblood when all four students share part of the blame." Dumbledore said after a moment.
"I agree, Headmaster. I suggest the loss of all Hogsmead privileges and a weeks worth of detention for Mr. Throckmorten. Miss McVeigh and Miss Morgan can join him in detention. As for Miss Sweetblood, I think something else would be more appropriate." Professor Snape said silkily, turning his head to look at me.
I groaned slightly. Please don't make me stock potions.
A sly smirk spread across my Head of House's face as he turned to Dumbledore.
"According to her school file, Miss Sweetblood has shown herself to be an exceptional potions assistant."
Damn it all!
"Her previous instructor took it upon herself to contact me personally to discuss Miss Sweetblood's talent for potions."
I felt as though I'd just been hit over the head with a two-by-four. Professor Varner had contacted my Head of House and said good things about me?
"Excellent idea, Severus. Starting next week Miss Sweetblood will be responsible for holding a remedial potions class for your younger students. We have more new first years coming from muggle families than ever before. If I remember correctly it was mentioned that they could hardly be expected to set up a cauldron correctly."
No, no, no, no, no, no, no. No. Can't even set up—I'm going to die!
"Remedial potions with first years? If those ham-fisted, deadheads can't even set up a cauldron imagine—they could seriously hurt someone. How many snot-nosed brats are we talking about here?" I asked, my voice slightly panicked.
"A full class." Professor Snape said, looking over at Dumbledore, who raised his eyebrows as if understanding something for the first time.
"Yes. That sounds highly appropriate. This will give you a chance to include words more suitable for a young lady in your vocabulary." He said, giving me a stern look over the tops of his half-moon spectacles.
I lifted my eyebrows in disbelief and ran a hand over my face before sighing in painful resignation. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at me in delight.
"Excellent. Then for the rest of the year you will take over all of Professor Snape's first-years every Wednesday and Friday." That made my head snap up.
"Wha-what! How did we go from remedial to actual class? And what do you mean for the rest of the year? I still have classes of my own." I spluttered.
"According to your schedual the only class you'll have conflicts with is history. Therefore you will have to discuss your problem with Professor Binns. I highly doubt he will even notice your absence." Professor Snape said, looking to the Headmaster for approval.
"But the whole year?" I asked, mouth open in disbelief.
"It is either that or expulsion." He said unmercifully, black eyes narrowing.
I clenched my jaw and looked away, unwilling to admit that I'd rather teach first years than leave Hogwarts. It was all I had going for me.
I suppose with any luck it'll look good on my Auror transcript, I thought, caving in.
"Fine. I'll do it." I said sourly, crossing my arms and legs as I slumped down in my chair to pout.
"It's settled then. Professor Snape will give you the lesson plans for his first years tonight so you may go over them in preparation for tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? I thought you said next week!" I exclaimed.
"Did I? How embarrassing. I'm afraid my memory is not quite what it used to be." Dumbledore said confidingly, his eyes twinkling.
I snorted, getting to my feet.
Yeah, uh-huh sure.
"Right. Is that everything?"
"Yes, you may go. Severus, please make sure these young ladies find their way to the hospital wing." Hearing the dismissal I snatched up my bag and quickly lead the way down the stairs.
There was little conversation on the way to the hospital wing. I spent most of my time cursing Throckmorten and resenting Professor Snape. The punishment was almost a compliment, saying that he had confidence in my ability to teach his first years.
Almost.
Just the thought of having to teach whinny, scabby little first years how to brew a potion had me cringing.
We quickly reached the third floor and I blinked at the number of students that were waiting around the double doors to the hospital wing. There were only a couple handfuls of them and they all turned to stare at us as we came down the corridor. Professor Snape ignored them and impatiently led us through the doors and into the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was patching up students and handing them cups of nasty yellow goop before shooing them out the door.
"You again!" She fumed, seeing me for the first time as I took a seat on one of the beds.
"Professor Dumbledore insisted that they come. Miss Sweetblood, I will see you later tonight to discuss your situation. Professor Binns's classroom is just down the hall from here if you should decide to see him. And fifty points for taking on the task." He said smirking.
"Thank you Professor." I nodded my thanks and he swept out the door, taking five points from a young Hufflepuff girl as he did.
I saw the Ravenclaw girl shake her head.
"What?" I asked, carefully peeling off my robe as Madam Pomfrey shooed the rest of the kids out.
"I just wish Professor Flitwick favored us as Snape does his Slytherins." She said, taking a seat across from me on a slightly rumpled bed.
My lips quirked and I shrugged with one shoulder.
"This is ridiculous! I knew you were accident prone, but this is just ridiculous!" Madam Pomfrey repeated as she bustled over.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just fix it and give me something for my scars." I said, shifting on the bed so she could get a better look at my shoulder. My lips drew tight as the air smarted against my skin.
"Good heavens! Minerva mentioned something about a duel but this…" She suddenly glared at me as if it was my fault the skin on my shoulder was charred black.
"I sent the other two out just before you got here. The girl was fine and the boy had a broken nose, two cracked ribs and a dislocation. I suppose he did this to you?" She said, lips pursed as she pulled back my shirt.
"The difference is that he deserved it. Cracked ribs you say? Huh." I shared a look with the girl, who only smiled wryly.
"Yes."
"Well that makes me feel much better. Hey that hurts!" I exclaimed, trying not to jerk away from her as she jabbed her wand into my shoulder.
"Oh, it does not. Now just sit there for a minute—sit! If you don't sit I won't give you anything for your back, understand?"
Reluctantly I sat, glowering at her while she turned to see to the Ravenclaw chit. It only took her a moment to mend the purpling welt and she went to get the potion.
"Here. That's all I have so you better use it appropriately. Now, I don't want to see you in here again, Miss Vanderhorn." She said, shooing us out the door.
"Oh but you will." I said.With a humph, she slammed the door closed behind us.
"And we were getting along so well." I said sarcastically.
"I could tell." My companion said dryly, running a hand over her cheek. She opened and closed her jaw experimentally.
"Which one is Binns's classroom?" I asked as we headed down the corridor.
"That one." I stopped and peered into the room she had pointed at.
A ghost was sitting at rather dusty desk reading out of a tomb to twenty empty seats, apparently haven't yet noticed that class had ended.
"Hello, professor? Professor?" The ghost stopped, blinking as if surprised by the interruption.
"Yes?" He asked in a dull monotonous voice. I winced. Yeah, I defiantly wouldn't be missing this class.
"Starting tomorrow I will be taking over Professor Snape's first year classes so I won't be able to make it to class for the rest of the year."
Just thought you should know.
"Oh." He said. I waited for him to say more but nothing came.
"Okay then. Uh, could you just give me a sheet with the dates of when the tests will be so I can come in sometime during the day and take them?" He blinked a few more times before nodding.
"Alright then." I left him there and continued on down the hall towards the main marble staircase.
"Is it true? What you said about Allman?" The girl asked suddenly.
"What? About him liking me? Eh, yeah. But the interest is not shared, you can trust that."
"Didn't think so. You don't seem like the kind of person to fall for a twat like that. He is quite a looker though isn't he?" She asked with a wink.
I snorted and chose not to state the obvious but provide an explanation for my hostile feelings.
"His family has an interest in real-estate and I happen to have a rather large amount of it." I said as we went down the stairs, several eyes and whispers following me.
"Doesn't surprise me. His parents are greedier than goblins and are about as intelligent as flubberworms."
"Friends of the family?" I asked smirking slightly.
"I wish." She said, heaving a sigh.
"Relatives then?" I stated more than asked.
"Yes. By the way, I believe this—is yours." She said, pulling out a short, fine-grained mahogany wand from her robe pocket.
I locked eyes with her as I took back my wand.
"Thanks." I said slowly, eyes cautious.
I must have dropped it when the Bitch hit me. I wonder if she realizes I didn't use a wand for that. Not that it would be terrible if anyone found out, but it's an advantage if no one knows. I can take them by surprise.
She shrugged.
"I won't say anything if that's what's got your knickers in a twist." She said as we approached the main staircase leading down to the entrance hall.
Knickers in a twist? Nice.
"Thanks." I said dryly. She laughed, pausing at the top of the stairs.
"Right. Well I'll see you around."
"Later then, I'm off to the library." I said, raising a hand as she started off down the stairs.
"Cheers." She said in parting.
When she was gone I frowned, running my fingers over my wand thoughtfully. If I was her I wouldn't have made any sort of promises to keep it a secret.
Perhaps that's why I'm in Slytherin and she's not.
I nodded, smiling a bit at the thought, and navigated my way towards the library. I wasn't usually a big fan of homework and firmly believed that the only important days were test days.
But now everyday seems to be a test day.
It was difficult finding my way back. Nothing looked the same, not the paintings, the statues, or the stairs. Even the doors had shuffled themselves since I'd been in Dumbledore's office.
I asked for directions and eventually found my way there. The under fed vulture was too busy glowering at a small group of boys so I wove my way to the back of the library without being harangued.
As I went to settle down at a table near the Herbology section my backpack split open, dumping my books, quills, ink, and parchment on the floor. I swore as the inkbottle hit the corner of a book and shattered.
I should've Charmed it!
Grumbling, I began gathering up my things, quickly vanishing most of the ink covering my Charm's and Healer's books, though there would be some permanent damage. As I crouched down to collect the rest of my shit I heard a couple boys talking just on the other side of a bookcase behind me.
"Check out the talent! Wouldn't mind having a bit of How's Your Father with that one."
"The Yank?"
"No, the bint behind her. Yes the Yank, you idiot. Bloody hell."
Having spent the summer in a houseful of men and boys (Tonks, and the other two aside) I wasn't oblivious to what 'How's Your Father' consisted of. It was just one of those odd British terms for having sex. As to the 'Yank' reference they'd shot my way, I had a feeling that was going to be a permanent association.
But what the hell is a bint?
"I heard that posh git from Durmstrang fancies her."
"The prat walking towards her?"
As if on cue Allman crouched down beside me, handing me a couple quills I'd missed. I glared at him.
"Here, you dropped these."
No, really? I hadn't noticed.
"Thanks." I said tersely, pocketing the quills and putting the parchment in my books. I slung my empty bag over my shoulder and stood, stumbling somewhat as I tripped over the library book. Thankfully it hadn't gotten any ink on it.
Reacting as if I was about to fall flat on my face, Allman reached out to 'catch' me. A look of disgusted annoyance flashed across my face as one of his hands skated over my chest to grab my arm, the other resting on the small of my back.
Honestly.
"Careful. Reparo. Scourgify. Accio."
I caught the empty inkbottle as he pocketed his wand, sliding the hand on my back down till it wrapped around my waist as he did so.
"Um, no." I said, removing his hand.
"Astrid, c'mon. That bastard didn't know what bloody hell he was talking about. My father is a mean old codger and while he'd probably be very pleased to know I liked you, that doesn't mean anything. After all, I was interested in you even before Professor Crownheart announced that you are a Sweetblood." He said, voice low and earnest as he followed me to the table.
"Bullshit." I said, setting down my books.
"I didn't want to tell you because I thought you'd do this and I was right."
"Look you spineless, good for nothing, piece of British shit! The fact of the matter is that you lied. Period. End of story." I said whispered heatedly, taking out my quills.
I normally carried seven quills with me, having a strange habit of always displacing, or breaking at least four of them throughout the day. Today I'd only lost two.
"Only because I was afraid you'd castrate me."
"Don't tempt me. I'm not interested in you're excuses so get lost. I have to find a medical dictionary." I hissed, moving off down the nearest isle.
"Would you mind if I joined you?" Large, warm hands grasped my hips, pulling me backwards against a similarly large solid body. I tensed, my eyes flying open in horrified surprise.
"Malfoy's watching." He whispered near my neck, causing my skin to prickle uncomfortably as I tried to shove him off me.
"I don't give a flying—!" I began loudly, turning my head to glare at him only to be cut off by a bruising kiss.
Oh.
Shocked, I let him turn me around and pin me against the front of a bookcase. I felt my knees give and, surprised by my reaction, I clutched the front of his robes for support. I struggled with enjoying the moment, and at the same time, the urge to clock him while he continued to do…whatever it was he was doing with his hands.
What the hell. I blame stress, I said to myself. What the kiss was doing to my hormones was too tempting to resist.
"Just an acquaintance, Astrid?" A voice asked slyly from somewhere nearby. I stiffened, my eyes snapping open as I realized that while this was fun, it probably wasn't the best place to be—socializing.
Especially with Allman.
Zabini, accompanied by Malfoy and some other Slyterin boys had just entered the library, coming up behind us.
"What else?" I said, pushing Allman away from me so I could step away from the bookcase.
He didn't move. My former interest in our extracurricular activity gone, I gave him a black look. His head was turned away from me as he stared at Malfoy, his jaw clenched.
I looked too and felt my raging pulse suddenly freeze. It wasn't Malfoy he was looking at but the man standing behind him.
Aw, shit.
"Do you want something Professor?" Allman asked silkily, laying a possessive hand around my waist.
Sarlow looked as if he wanted to Avada Allman right then and there if his threatening posture was anything to go by.
"Yes, I want you all to conduct yourselves appropriately. Twenty points from Slytherin for inappropriate displays of affection."
I realized Allman must have noticed Sarlow staring at me during Crownheart's sorting.
But so what? Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't indulge myself once in a while.
Allman sneered at him and Sarlow's eyes narrowed.
"Do I need to inform Filch that you kindly volunteered to clean the chamber pots for the night?" Sarlow asked steadily.
Grumbling, Allman started for the door and tried to pull me along, but I held back.
"Come on." He said obviously not too keen on leaving me here alone.
I looked at him as if he'd just grown two heads.
"You must be joking." I said, turning around to continue searching the shelves.
"Astrid, c'mon. I'm serious." He muttered, not wanting anyone to overhear our argument.
"No. I'm not interested, Allman. While fun, I don't think this conversation is good for our continued health. Yours more specifically. I don't like you, I don't trust you, and I don't want to play anymore. Good day to you." I said pointedly, walking away.
If he thought I was a brainless ninny easily won over by a kiss he had another thing coming. Preferably two things, actually: a wand and a fist.
I mean shit, I'm not an idiot. He kissed me for a reason. As much as I hate to admit it, he's not a complete moron.
"Astrid—"
"I said good day!" I snapped over my shoulder. Frustrated, he made a face before reluctantly sulking away, glaring at Sarlow as he passed.
When I came back with a stack of five books, two floating behind me, Sarlow was waiting for me at my table. I groaned, noticing the odd looks he was getting from a few girls sitting nearby.
"What?" I asked tiredly, taking the chair across from him and propping open one of my books.
"I was wondering if you intended on telling me that my attentions were no longer welcome."
"I didn't realize you were so attached ." I commented, pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill to take notes on the anatomy of humans.
"Neither did I. Does it bother you?"
"Yes, as does Allman." I replied honestly.
"Well then, good day to you Miss Vanderhorn." He said maturely, getting to his feet.
My respect for him rose slightly. I hadn't expected him to take it as well as he did, most boys didn't.
But isn't a boy.
A strange urge to say something to him as he pushed in his chair and headed towards the doors overcame me.
"Professor?" I called after him.
"Yes?" He turned slightly.
"Would you consider assigning Allman detention anyway?"
He didn't smile but I saw the tension in his shoulders ease.
"Perhaps."
I allowed myself to give him a small, brief smile.
"Till Monday then Professor."
He nodded and I watched him walk away with an fluttering feeling in my chest. I rubbed the area, pinning it on that funny looking pear I'd eaten at lunch. I shook my head and set to concentrating on the book in front of me. I read the first few lines and leaned forward to uncork my inkbottle.
"Damn, I don't have any ink." I realized frowning. I looked over at the nearby Ravenclaw girls and pursed my lips thoughtfully.
A second later I rose to ask one of them for an inkbottle.
"Hey, do have any ink I can borrow?" I asked a girl with braided hair.
She shook her head and looked at her neighbor.
"Er, well I don't. Sandra?"
Sandra looked up from the book she'd buried her nose in. She had small wire-framed glasses that hid curious gray eyes. Glancing up at me she nodded.
"Sure, Mandy, hand me my book bag. Yes, we have Defense Training together. Professor Emry's partnered you with Mandy and I for this unit. So…" The girl shrugged, handing me the inkbottle.
I recognized the willowy girl, Mandy, as one of the particularly modest girls from the locker room. The others were only taking the dueling portion of the class.
"Okay, thanks. Uh, if you guys want to get together and practice sometime by yourselves that would be fine with me. I won't be able to do anything after class from now on unless you catch me in the morning." I said drawing my wand to spell the bottle.
"I've already Charmed it don't worry."
"Alright then, thanks."
"Uh-huh." She said, her nose already stuck in between whatever she was reading.
I went back to my table and referred to my Healer's book. During class I'd scribbled notes and such into the margins because I'd been too lazy to actually lean over and get parchment out of my bag. In all honesty I would probably end up drawing pictures as I read, not taking any notes at all.
But it's not like I really need to though. As long as I read the material I should be fine.
The girls at the Institute had hated me for my memory. Hated me, hated me, hated me. They would study for hours and days at a time to get the marks they did. Even the girls I'd never talked to had grumbled about my scores after exams. How could someone who slept through every class, and never turned in homework, ace the exams?
I'd had a few teachers out right flunked me for cheating. Of course no amount of flunking could deny the fact that my O.W.L scores were excellent. I smiled smugly at the thought.
"At least I won't have to worry about studying for history." I muttered to my textbook as I turned the page.
I avoided Allman and the others at dinner, deciding I was better off eating in the kitchens with the house elves. Their wobbly, high voices had me gritting my teeth but that was better than sitting near Allman, or worse, Maureen and Throckmorten. I might not have been able to contain myself in their presence.
Unable to take the bowing and scraping for too long though, I finished my plate quickly, taking some food with me back to the common room. Not too long after that I was spelling the curtains and pulling my blankets over my head. I'd need all the sleep I could get if I was going to teach first years tomorrow.
As that foggy thought filtered into my mind I felt my stomach clench. I'd forgotten all about the meeting with Snape.
(A/N)
Hey I just fixed a couple things here and there. I can't believe it's already April. Sorry for the lack of new chapters, check my profile for a full apology.
Tired as hell, the author.
PS: Thanks out to Lana, Sam, and wolves-eyes. I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas and has a Happy New Year.
Also, I now accept anonymous reviews for you lazy gits out there. I'd forgotten I had that feature disabled.
Thought you'd like that, the author