Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the characters but I have made them dance this time. No money made, no gratuities accepted except the reviews of my peers, for which I thank you.

I always answer my reviewers if they leave a name and I am always happy to chat with them over PM. Huge thanks and a great deal of gratitude as you are the reason I managed to get out of the mud and get going again.

If you have a flame to send, I suggest you do a spell check, the last couple look like they were written by a drunken kindergartener, sorry.

Another huge thanks to my BEsT betas Zarathustra46 and the Wicked Bunjhny who make this lot legible and grammatically sane.

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Chapter 17 – Learning To Interact

Snape was marking when a strange owl flew in and stood on his desk, impatiently shaking its leg. The bulky envelope was covered in standard postal security seals, spells, and protection charms. Gingerly, Snape freed the package and passed the owl a treat in a bid to gain time. Perhaps he was not prepared to open the bundle, especially when the publishing company's logo was right there beside the name of a prominent law firm. After a moment, Severus sighed and pulled a new sheet of parchment toward him and wrote quickly, addressing it to his own Family Law Firm before dismissing the publisher's owl with a wave of his hand. If there was anything in the envelope that might cause him problems, then his personal lawyers could find and deal with it.

He continued grading the year sevens' theses on multi-stage potions until a discrete knock at the door drew his attention. Sighing even more deeply, he waved a hand and allowed the heavy black oak door to creak open slowly to admit Janus Rothschild, whose thesis proposal he had just finished reading.

"The House is ready for inspection, sir," the young man said deferentially, his head bowing with genuine respect for his Head of House.

"Very well, Rothschild." Severus rose and pulled his robes straight as he signalled the prefect to walk with him. Severus had been putting off the visit for months now yet it had to be done. No more procrastinating. After all, as Head of House, he did have a duty of care to his charges. "Who organised this year's placements, Vector?"

Janus coughed discretely into his hand. "Er, no Sir, that would be Malfoy. He came back and made sure everything went smoothly. Unfortunately, Professor Vector was not exactly helpful and, if one is truthful, quite obstructionist to our particular organisation."

"How so?"

"She said something on the lines of 'fagging is the province of Muggle upper class boarding schools*, not magical establishments and we will not tolerate such a barbaric and archaic system in this place of learning.'"

"Ah... and did anyone try to correct her perceptions?" Snape asked as they approached the common room door.

Again, the boy moved uncomfortably. "There was some discussion, sir, but as she remained unconvinced, we allowed her to retain her illusions."

Severus hid a smile at that very Slytherin declaration as the door opened upon the crowd of children inside hurriedly forming up into their years before the fireplace. A large, wing-backed chair had been placed before the group. Standing beside the chair, back to the fire, Snape surveyed the assembly who all straightened proudly under his eyes. "Are we all present?" he asked softly seating himself. He did not like the connotations of his taking such a position, but he was dealing with Slytherins; pureblood scions and the children of ex-Death Eaters. This setting was one they could readily identify with and perhaps even learn to... outgrow... maybe.

"We are, sir," Andromeda Freebain, Janus' opposite number, replied quietly.

"You may all be seated. So, introduce me to our newest members," Severus instructed as his House got comfortable around the low-ceilinged common room.

The fourth years rose and came forward, tapping certain first years as they moved. Because of Slytherin's reputation and his own past experience, Severus had re-instituted the mentoring system his House used a year after his personal experiences in Slytherin. It was not a fagging system as Vector had mistakenly thought but a way to painlessly integrate half-bloods and muggleborns. Each new firsty was assigned a fourth year guardian who was charged with looking after the younger child, making sure the child bathed change regularly without the help and prompting of their family house-elves, that they were well fed and protected. If the firsty was a Muggle-born or Half-blood, then there was additional training in Wizarding culture and manners, and handling a quill appropriately. To assist the fourth years with their new duties as guardians, their own mentors, then in seventh year, would be available to offer advice and help as needed. As each child progressed through the system, the balance of mentor and mentee changed when the fourth years, besides having their own charges, assisted their seventh year mentors in passing their NEWTs by taking care of the mundane and everyday chores, thus freeing their mentors for study. It was a system that worked and gave cohesion to the Snake House.

Of his twelve new first years, five were Muggle-born, a record number. Already Severus could see the Wizarding culture classes were affecting the children, teaching them to fit in with the Pure Bloods and giving them a polish that was missing from most new recruits. Sionaia O'Connell, a vividly Red Irish witch from County Cork grinned, her arms around two little girls who obviously already adored her.

"I have these two darlin's, Grace Makin and Cassiopia Black, who are in the way of becomin' very settled now," the girl said cheerfully, the two little girls making their curtsies with shy smiles. Having two charges was unusual but O'Connell was a Molly Weasley in the making!

"Miss Makin, Miss Black. Are you keeping up with the academic program and do you have adequate resources for tutoring in those subjects you need help with?"

Miss Makin, a muggleborn, bit her lip just a little, surprised when Snape leaned forward and unhooked the badly gnawed lip it from her teeth with a slight shake of his head. The youngster glanced up at Sionaia who grinned assurance before the little one looked back to her head of house. "Yes, sir, but I'm not very good with the quill, I make splatters a lot."

"Aye, true, but she is gettin' much better, Sir. Willie has been helpin' her with that," Sionaia hurried to add.

Severus patiently listened to all the reports, making sure he memorised names and faces, quite pleased with the matches his Godson had arranged. Matching the personalities of the children was not an easy task but a necessary one if the system was to succeed. It wasn't until third year that there was a house problem and it was a stupid one. Sixth year Lawrence McCromie brought his charge Lewis Petersham forward with a grim look.

"He's been at it again, stealing shiny things," Laurie charged with a deep sigh.

Severus cocked an eyebrow at Petersham. "Well?"

The boy pulled a pained face and ground his toes into the ground. "Couldn't help it, Sir, it was there and it was shiny and I just... then it was in my hand and..."

"We have spoken at length about your stealing, have we not?" Snape reminded the boy who grimaced and nodded once. "And what was decided?"

"Not to touch other people's shinies, mustn't steal pretty objects," Petersham murmured miserably. "But sir, Professor Morton took my fetish, and, and I had nothing to, to hold onto," the boy burst out in agonised tones. "I tried, I really did, but he wouldn't give it back and then..."

Scrubbing a hand down his face, Snape took a deep breath. That was the trouble with old Pure Blood families, they had unexpected throwbacks to some very odd creatures. It looked more and more like the Petersham line had a few ravens or jackdaws in the distant past. Poor young Lewis could not pass a shiny object without trying to own it. "And could you not come back to the dormitories and pick up a new fetish, or at least keep a spare in your pocket?"

"He took them all," Petersham whispered, staring at his boots. "He made me turn my pockets out and took the spares, as well as my marbles and everything."

"Really? I would suggest you give your classmates a few extra shinies to keep safe for you from now on so that if it happens again, you can be relieved after class. In the meantime, I will have a... word... with Professor Morton..."

The elder years smirked while the younger years shivered at the promise in the softly forbidding tone. "Very well, return the goods Mr Petersham stole and we will say no more of it, this time. If there was no valid reason for the theft, then you know the penalty, but I believe there are extenuating circumstances in this case." There was a collective sigh of relief and Severus realised his House had been missing his guidance, justice and protection after all.

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The staffroom was not usually a place he entered voluntarily but today Severus had prey in his sights, two jackasses. He ghosted into the large, cosily-furnished room and sidled up to take a large, wing-backed chair near the fire. Although it was not obvious, he had thoroughly cased the joint in one encompassing glance before taking his seat.

Minerva studied her colleague out of the corner of her eye and then smirked, knowing the expression around his eyes of old. Oh, many said Severus had nothing but sneers and snarls in his facial repertoire but knowing him since he was eleven, she had long ago learned to decipher the small twitches of muscle that did him for smiles, laughter, and malicious grins – mainly out of self-defence! The man had a very specific target in his sights this time, and she would put galleons on the fact that he could name the position of each staff member in the room, what they were wearing and doing at that instant even though he hadn't seemed to take a blind bit of notice of anyone at all. In fact, she had won money on his skill before, usually from the naive or new members of staff who didn't quite believe Severus' formidable reputation could possibly be true.

She didn't see the wand move but suddenly Professor Morton, newly employed History of Magic teacher, let out a cry of horror, his hands scrabbling frantically though his robes. He kept up a moaning, keening cry of loss and panic and then dropped to his hands and knees to search the floor under the table he had been writing at. His distress drew attention from the four at the card table who turned curiously to watch his rapidly widening search area, their grins growing as they watched him scrabble about on the floor.

Rolanda, the most outspoken of the group called out but Morton was too engrossed in his search of the flagstones until he spotted the Potions Master's black robes. Crawling on all fours, he hurried across and sat back on his heels like a penitent begging his benefactor. "You have to let me have it back! You have to..."

"You should not have had it in the first place, now turn out your pockets! All of them!"

The centre of knowing attention, Morton made a small noise of distress but reluctantly began to empty his robes pockets, odd brick-a-brak piling up at Snape's feet. Quills, including two Everlasts, tops, yo-yos, a pair of tortoiseshell and mother-of-pearl inlayed combs, marbles, jacks, some crumpled bags of sweets, a couple of balls, and three bunches of mixed shiny objects held together on a piece of golden chain. Snape's mouth pursed slightly but all he said was, 'and the rest, Morton'.

Mewling slightly, Morton scrabbled through his trouser pockets and produced his personal belongings, his wand, a Gringotts money bag, handkerchief, glasses, a couple of Knuts, a bag of Drooble's best blowing gum, and two folded notes. "That's everything,' he whined piteously as Snape surveyed the collection with a curled lip.

"Severus, what are you up to now?" Rolanda asked with a grin and a nod.

"Our Mr Morton here thinks confiscating a pureblood's fetish and making him give up every single one of them is funny. I, however, do not. It also seems Mr Morton is fond of taking expensive trifles off the other students as well. Gold, ruby, pearl, emerald and diamond fetishes; engraved Everlast quills belonging to the Ravenclaws Lasseter and Bainbridge, I believe. The combs are Tiffany Morisset's birthday present from her Grandmother. And an assorted selection of small treasures that children usually carry."

"And you never punish children who do not pay attention in your class?" Morton demanded, the spell that held him loosening its grip a little.

"There are certain lines one does not cross. Taking personal treasures is one of them," Snape said grimly. "Petersham cannot function without his gewgaws and his family believe in only the best. While most people see that collection of pearls, emeralds and rubies by the net worth, a few thousand galleons, he sees them as a vital adjutant to life. This property will be returned to their rightful owners and you will refrain from confiscating personal property ever again. There are better ways to torture children, believe me." The words were backed by compulsion even greater than the envy and dislike that fuelled Morton's wish to punish students who were richer than he.

As soon as the spell was lifted, the man scooped up his trouser pocket contents and glared at the staring and slightly condemning ring of gazes. "They were not paying attention," he protested whiningly.

"Severus states the school policy perfectly; you will not remove personal property from the children for longer than the end of the period. Sweets, dangerous objects, forbidden items, yes, but personal items, no."

Morton shivered under the cut glass tones of Minerva McGonagall's edict, no trace of her soft Scottish burr in evidence as she laid down the law. Rising swiftly, Morton fled the room, wishing Snape had never been born, or had never returned to the school after his breakdown. In the far corner, Robert Pellowicz shivered and agreed with the sentiment, glad someone else was under the whip of Snape's acid tongue for once.

"Idiot man," Rolanda remarked with a shrug, going back to her place at the card table. Gambling was always more interesting than the skirmishes between staff members. "So, Gary, this Texas Hold Them, finish explaining the rules, will you?"

Gary Franklin, the new Muggle Studies teacher, grinned at the fierce gaze of the flying instructor. She was much more like the professors at the Salem College in America he was used to than the rest of his new, oh so British colleagues.

Snape watched as the card game progressed, ignoring Minerva's knowing eye even when Levil popped into the staffroom, dropped a pot of tea, a bottle of fine Firewhiskey, and a potions bottle on the occasional table at the side of Snape's chair. The small house elf then bowed to his Lord, gathered up the treasures the obnoxious History Of Magic teacher had left behind, and popped away again.

"What?" Snape demanded, knowing his high-handed treatment of Morton might generate questions. With a gesture he offered the other Heads of House a dram of Firewhiskey.

Minerva nodded her thanks as did Filius who occupied the third chair around the hearthrug. "Lasseter and Bainbridge are fourth-year Ravenclaws, I believe, and Tiffany Morisset is a first-year Hufflepuff," Minerva stated as she sipped the expensive whiskey appreciatively.

"And?"

"And you return the children's property, despite their houses, as well as your Slytherin's fetishes. Not very terrifying, don't you think?"

Severus blinked, then smiled a real smile. "Keeps them off guard, 'don't you think?' Besides, I would hate that a nasty little microbe like Morton would do such a thing to any child. Giving detention and being strict is very different to stealing personal property."

"Humiliating fellow professors is not exactly an endearing trait, Severus," Septima Vector put in cheekily from behind Filius' chair as she leaned on the back of it.

"No, indeed, but then, a product of the fagging system is never very polite or endearing, is he?"

"Fagging system?" Minerva inquired alertly.

"Oh yes, didn't you know? Slytherin works on a fagging principal. The older years are assigned younger children to run after them and do their personal chores." There was a feral light in Severus' eyes as he met and matched Minerva's gaze, catching Vector's slight flush in his peripheral vision.

"Fagging?" Filius asked indignantly. "It was you who introduced the mentoring program, not a fagging system. Why, I used the model myself in Ravenclaw and have never looked back. Bloody brilliant idea, to have the older ones looking out for the younger years and get them tutoring help if they needed it. It really relieved the pressure on my Seventh years too, to have the help of the fourth years, cut the number of nervous breakdowns by half. Who called it a fagging program? One should get the facts straight and be careful of slandering a good idea before speaking about it."

Severus didn't say anything but took a sip of his Ogdens to hide a self-satisfied smile. Septima Vector grimaced and carefully slunk away, Minerva watching her silent departure with a knowing grin. "You are an evil man," she remarked to her colleague, lifting her glass in a toast to the winner of the subtle confrontation.

Severus bowed his head in acknowledgement as Filius laughed and toasted the victor too. They continued to chat, missing Pomona's jolly lightness, the fourth chair at the fire still empty. Although Severus would not mention it, he missed the Herbology professor who had been such a generous donor of ingredients to his potions lab. Her death at the Greenhouses had been a sad loss as well as a needless sacrifice. "Who is heading Hufflepuff now?" he asked with mild curiosity.

"Hard to say, really," Minerva replied thoughtfully. "Albus has been looking after the basic tasks and Filius and I have split the rest of the duties but it's not a successful arrangement. They need a real Head of House, not three part-timers. Are you volunteering?"

"Me look after a herd of Puffs? Hah! I would be off to Azkaban again in a matter of days, no doubt. There is something inherently irritating about Hufflepuffs."

Minerva was about to take him to task when she was boisterously interrupted by Rolanda once again.

"Hey, Snape, have you seen this article that Gary's Muggle sister sent him? Seems the Muggles have a bit of a mystery on their hands."

Minerva frowned and Severus rolled his eyes as a colourful glossy photo was thrust under his nose. 'Bermuda Triangle Mystery!' the headlines screamed. 'Yesterday, the police released this picture of two children found floating in a wooden box in the middle of the ocean, many miles from land. The children were discovered when their box hit the side of the fishing boat 'Ropehaven' and were hauled aboard by astounded deckhands. 'We normally catch swords out there, not kids already boxed,' deckhand first class Albie North, age 28, told our reporter last night in an exclusive interview...' The article continued to speculate on the harrowing experience of the children who, it turned out, were found nowhere near the Bermuda Triangle after all.

The stillness of the muggle picture was a little distracting but Severus was more taken with the two children, pictured with the 'wooden box' they had been found in. "What is the mystery, unless it has to do with Muggle failure to grasp geography?" Severus asked dismissively.

"The authorities don't know where they came from and are asking for anyone who recognises them or has any information to come forward," Gary Franklin reminded him in his soft southern American accent.

"The Muggles have no idea who they are or how they got there," Rolanda put in expectantly. "What can you tell then, Snape?"

"They are witches. The wooden box is a trunk, probably from Luggage For The Discerning Wizard on Diagon Alley, if the etched brass corners are to be believed. The clothes are from Malkin's junior department. Look at the stitching on the girl's collar and around the baby's bonnet, almost a Malkin's trademark pattern. They are from a rather well-to-do, pureblood family and shouldn't be too hard to trace."

"What? How can you guess at that?" Even Minerva was pressed to ask.

"The shoes are by Gerald Alonnet who makes hand-crafted shoes for pureblood families with unusual feet. Many of the old families have extra toes, or not enough toes, and his shoes are crafted to fit them." Severus pointed to the very wide feet on the little girl. "Extra toes, I should think," he added thoughtfully. "The face reminds me of someone I know, especially across the eyes and chin, can't think of who at the moment."

"Well, there you go," Aurora Sinistra nodded happily. "If Severus says it's so, then you can store it in Gringotts. What? Severus is trained to know things like that. He's usually right, isn't he?"

Minerva grinned and nodded, amused when her younger colleague blushed bright red. "True, Severus' powers of observation and critical thinking are unmatched. You might want to pass those observations on to your Muggle contact, Gary, they may be interested. In the mean time I will pass them on to the Ministry Aurors and they can decide what to do with the information."

Severus took refuge in his glass, not meeting anyone's eyes. He was not used to such easy acceptance and it both embarrassed and warmed him but he was damned if he would show any emotional reaction to the staff's words.

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(AN:* 'fagging'. Originally running errands and cleaning up after the older boys at boarding schools was done by the younger boys who were treated like slaves sometimes. If you are still curious, read 'Tom Brown's School Days' by Thomas Hughes, 1857, for a clearer idea. Just FYI.)

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