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Here is the next chapter - I hope you enjoy it :)
Lauren awoke after a blissful night of no haunting nightmares plaguing her dreams. Though, this would be the last night of peace for her as Snape had made it crystal clear that he would not be giving her any more of the Dreamless Sleep potion.
Lauren rubbed at her face and glanced around, noting that the other girls were still asleep. She lay there for a few minutes, an unnatural calmness enveloping her. Deciding to get up, Lauren made her way to the bathroom and washed her face. She grimaced when she caught sight of her pale, pinched features reflecting back at her in the mirror.
You've reached a turning point now, Lauren. Time to buck up and show some of that backbone you're famous for, she mentally lectured herself. She drew in a deep breath and straightened, feeling her renewed resolve settle deep within her, fusing to her very core.
Teeth and hair brushed, Lauren padded back into the bedroom and dressed methodically for the day. Glancing at the clock on her bedside table, she sighed when she realized that she still had an hour yet until the others rose for the day.
Lauren made her way to one of the windows and leaned her shoulder against the pane, her resting her forehead against the cool glass as she stared into the green tinged waters sloshing gently against the glass.
I am now a witch. This is my world. For good or bad, I must now embrace it.
Lauren glanced over her shoulder at her sleeping roommates, feeling a tinge of envy at their untainted and blissful slumber.
They are not aware of the horrors lurking in the world. They have been protected and shielded, basking in the joyful ignorance of youth. But that will all change in a few years…
Her thoughts drifted to the Sorting Hats and the words it had spoken to her.
She had been brought here to help Severus. Maybe not right now, but most assuredly in the coming future.
But how do I do that without drastically changing things? she pondered. If I change but one single event, it could have a rippling effect and alter the outcome of the War to come. And probably for the worse.
Dumbledore had forewarned her about revealing details of future events and Lauren understood why. But she also recognized that she didn't have the wisdom, nor the savvy, to get through the next seven years without royally fucking something up. She was going to need help, this much she knew.
But who could help her? It would be unwise to place this knowledge in Snape's hands, even though she trusted him unequivocally. If Voldemort, when he returned to power, managed to extract this information from him, either through torture or Legilimency, then it was literally game over.
That left Dumbledore.
Lauren worried at her bottom lip. Dumbledore was the logical one to go to. But it didn't mean he would be agreeable with her dumping this fountain of knowledge on him. But she had to at least try.
Lauren decided she would seek him out later on that week. He did, after all, have some important news to share with her, or so he claimed. She now had the perfect excuse now to pay him a visit.
The girls began to stir, shuffling out of bed all bleary-eyed and rumpled-haired. There was a momentary pause when they registered that Lauren was back, and she could not ignore the uncomfortable silence that descended upon the room as they cautiously prepared for the school day. Surreptitious glances were being cast in her direction, nearly bordering on mistrust.
"If you've got something to say, spit it out already!" Lauren finally snapped as she retrieved her school robes from the interior of her wardrobe.
All movement ceased and she turned to face them, a defiant glare plastered on her face as she eyed each of them, challenging them.
Not surprisingly, it was Pansy who spoke up first. "What exactly happened to you the other day?" Her brown eyes were almost slitted with simmering suspicion.
"A nightmare," Lauren supplied, the words flowing easily from her tongue.
"A nightmare?" Daphne asked disbelievingly. "It sounded like you were being killed."
If only you realized how close to the truth you really are…
"What can I say – I have an overactive imagination." A small tight-lipped smile curled her lips, but there was zero humor to be glimpsed in the action.
All four girls stared at her with equal degrees of doubtful frowns etched on their brows.
It was Millicent who spoke up next. "Okay. So where were you yesterday?"
"I decided to bag a day. You know, play hooky." Lauren shrugged on her robes, flipping her hair free from the confines of her collar. She turned sharply, her demeanor all brusque, and plucked up her bag from the floor. "So, if you don't mind, I really don't feel like recounting gory dreams to you lot. If we are quite done with this interrogation, I would like to go and grab some breakfast. You coming, Tracey?"
Tracey's head snapped up at having been addressed, startlement plain as day on her heart shaped face. Surprisingly, she gave a hasty nod of assent before following Lauren out of the room, leaving behind three very confused looking girls.
They walked in silence, passing through the Common Room where small clusters of students glanced up at Lauren's entrance. Judging by the wary looks on their faces, it hadn't taken long for the gossip of her episode to spread throughout the serpentine House.
Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were seated on the moss green leather couches that were station in front of the low burning fire in the hearth. Draco glanced up a Lauren swept past them, his ice blue eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"What happened to you, Ward?" he sneered.
Lauren halted in her tracks, causing Tracey to nearly bump into her back.
Time to nip this in the bud before he tries to cause serious trouble with me later on…
"That, Malfoy, is none of your business," Lauren replied with an equal degree of frostiness to her voice.
Though Draco usually reserved his hostility for the Gryffindors - Harry in particular - she still not trust him (nor particularly like him), even though he was usually civil towards his fellow Slytherins.
This was something Lauren had noticed about the Slytherins: they protected their own. She knew that her little incident would be kept a well-guarded secret amongst them as they wouldn't particularly want that circulating around the school.
But that did not mean they were above being suspicious to those of their own ilk. And, right now, it would seem that Draco was rightly suspicious of her.
Draco rose to his feet, his proud bearing noticeable as he regarded her with the haughtiness that only came with noble breeding.
"You're not turning into a freak are you, Ward?" he drawled cruelly.
A snarky smirk, one to even rival that of the Potion Master's, curled on Lauren's own lips. "Yup, and you're welcome to join the club, Blondie."
"What did you call me?"
"Blondie. B.L.O.N.D.I.E." Lauren huffed out impatiently. "Honestly, I don't have time to teach you how to spell, Malfoy."
Draco's eyes glinted dangerously, and he reached into his robes. Lauren knew exactly what he was going for.
In a flash, she had her own wand whipped out and uttered the first incantation that came to mind: Expelliarmus.
It was absolutely surreal the feeling that overcame her in that moment. A warm, tingly rush surged through her body as her magic thrummed through her blood, infusing with her very being. Lauren embraced the euphoric sensation and willed the rush of magic to her wand.
The outcome was better than she could have ever expected. For well over a month she had been struggling to perform even the simplest spell, and now she was not only embracing magic, but channeling it quite effectively too. And powerfully by the looks of it. It was almost as though her magic had been lying dormant within her this whole time, waiting for this exact moment to rise up.
Draco's wand was whipped violently from his hand, flying in a high arc in the air before landing on the hard, stone floor with a resounding clatter.
He glanced over at his wand and then turned his attention back to Lauren, disbelief showing plainly on his pointed face. Lauren couldn't much blame him. Her reputation for casting spells hadn't exactly been exemplary, so this must have been a real shocker for him.
Gemma Farley, the Slytherin Prefect, chose that exact moment to enter the Common Room. A look of complete and utter dismay shadowed her features at the sight of Lauren pointing her wand at Draco with a cold expression plastered on her face.
"What's going on here?" Gemma asked, snapping out of her shock. She strode briskly towards them, and Lauren noted that Crabbe and Goyle took a hasty step back.
"She attacked me!" Draco whined, pointing his finger in Lauren's direction.
Lauren rolled her eyes. "You drew your wand first, you prat."
"What did you call me?"
"Prat. P.R.A.T," she spelled out impatiently.
Draco spluttered in offense. "Wait until my father hears about this!"
"What's he going to do? Beat me with his pimp stick?" Lauren shot back sarcastically.
There was a sound of a cough that sounded suspiciously like a covered-up chuckle. And, by the sounds of it, it was coming from Tracey.
"His…what?" Draco looked completely confused, and Lauren had to restrain from laughing out loud at his expression.
"That's enough, you two. Now head down to breakfast before I start docking points," Gemma ordered firmly, drawing herself up to her full height, which was neither tall nor impressive.
Lauren flashed Draco a cheeky grin and flounced off.
"Lauren!" Tracey called after her, causing Lauren to pause mid stride. She had completely forgotten about her constant shadow and experienced a brief pang of guilt.
Tracey caught up to her, slightly breathless from having to run.
"I can't believe you said that to Draco!" she exclaimed with a delighted grin gracing her usually serious façade.
Lauren couldn't help but smirk. "I think 'pimp stick' was completely lost on him, though."
A girlish giggle escaped Tracey's lips and Lauren had to wonder how an eleven-year-old could possibly know what that phrase meant. Though, Tracey was uncannily smart for her age and being half-blood, she would have knowledge of both worlds.
Not for the first time, Lauren wondered why Tracey was friends with her of all people? Tracey could be best described as serious and Wednesday Adam like. Lauren was hotheaded, whereas Tracey was contained with her emotions. They were fire and ice and, by normal standards, they shouldn't even be friends. But, somehow, they were.
"Why are you friends with me, Tracey? I'm not a very nice person," Lauren pointed out, her curiosity getting the better of her.
"True," Tracey agreed in all seriousness now, "but I like you."
Tracey's constant and unwavering loyalty was puzzling, to say the least.
Lauren rolled her eyes at the naivety of youth but decided to drop it as they headed to the Great Hall, unwilling to admit even to herself that she had grown fond of the girl.
"So what really happened to you?" Tracey enquired as they strode along the dimly lit passageway.
Lauren sighed, knowing that the girl was referring to her breakdown the other day. "I told you – a nightmare."
She could feel Tracey's penetrating gaze trained on her, but true to her nature, Tracey didn't push for an answer.
"If you ever need to talk, you know I'm here for you," her companion spoke up softly from beside her.
"I'll keep that in mind," Lauren replied, feeling vaguely uncomfortable. Yearning to veer off the unwanted topic, she grabbed Tracey's arm and all but dragged her to the Great Hall. "Come on. I'm starving."
Entering the Great Hall, the two made their way to the Slytherin table.
Lauren wasted no time and dug into her breakfast with gusto. But halfway through her eggs, toast and sausages, she had to admit defeat. She could eat no more. Her stomach had shrunk quite noticeably over the past month of just picking at her food, and now she couldn't even finish what was left on her plate.
Blowing out a loud breath, Lauren let her fork drop with a clatter onto her plate. "I can't eat anymore. I'm going to bust."
Tracey, who was sipping orange juice from her glass, glanced over at Lauren's plate. "Honestly, I'm surprised you ate that much, though you were eating like someone possessed."
Tracey wasn't far from the truth. Lauren was on a mission, but first she needed to build up her strength. And that meant eating.
"Let's just say I have a new agenda," Lauren mumbled, turning her attention to the staff table. Her eyes locked with the dark and unreadable eyes of Severus Snape, who had obviously been watching her eat.
And that agenda would be Severus Snape.
~oOo~
A week saw a marked improvement in Lauren's spell casting. Even her potion brewing had vastly improved.
Snape would stroll past her station and peer into her cauldron. He made no remark or even acknowledged her, but Lauren thought she had glimpsed a small, please smile on his lips during one of their lessons before he turned away.
Lauren, to her surprise, was discovering that she was fast developing a love for the subject. There was a certain art form to brewing a potion, following the steps and waiting with anticipation for that subtle change in the softly bubbling cauldron that indicated that the brewing process had been successful. It filled her with a sense of elation, even gratification, whenever she succeeded in a particularly critical stage of the process, and now it was with a sense of pride when, at the end of the lesson, she would file along with the rest of the class and hand in her potion to Snape.
Of course, her Potions essays were always returned with blood red ink slashed across the parchment, scathing remarks scrawled in the margins in Snape's familiar spidery handwriting.
Outwardly, these remarks would appear malicious and cruel, but Lauren knew that Snape did not do things without reason. Hidden within the harsh critiques were invaluable pointers. All she had to do was look beyond the obvious and soak up the knowledge he was imparting.
The situation between her and Snape was infinitely better. Gone was the animosity and in its place was now respect and understanding. Well, for Lauren anyway. Snape still acted like a dark and foreboding figure of authority, but she understood that he was maintaining the professional boundary of Professor and student. He had not sought her out this past week, but Lauren knew without a doubt that she could go to him any time and Snape would do whatever he could to help her. He had proven as much when he had comforted her in that lonely room, revealing a side to him that very, very few had ever witnessed. She had felt protected in his arms, and she knew that she would always be safe with him.
Each night when she lay in bed, her thoughts inadvertently drifted to the mysterious wizard, and each night she was left puzzling over how she was possibly supposed to help him.
You are strong, Miss Ward. Stronger than you give yourself credit for.
His words echoed back to her. If Snape had confidence in her, then she would rise to the challenge and fight. She would fight for him. Because no one else would.
With that thought in mind, Lauren made her way to the gargoyle at the end of the week. She had spotted Quirrell conversing with Flitwick, the two meandering towards another part of the castle, and knew now was the perfect opportunity to seek out the Headmaster.
Upon seeing her, the gargoyle immediately leapt aside to reveal the winding staircase beyond. Lauren drew in a deep breath and, after a final glance over her shoulder, made her way up to Dumbledore's office.
Raising her hand, Lauren knocked firmly on the wooden door and waited. The door swung open smoothly and Lauren blinked in surprise when she saw that it was Snape who had opened the door. He, on the other hand, didn't seem shocked to see her standing on the other side. Instead he regarded her with a shrewd, indecipherable gaze.
"Ah, Miss Ward," Dumbledore greeted cheerfully from behind the dark Potion Master. "What a pleasant surprise. Please do come in."
Snape silently stepped aside to allow her entrance and Lauren entered the office, feeling his gaze boring into her. She had to resist the urge to shiver as her magic seemed to flare when she brushed past him. It could almost be described as an unconscious pull, almost as though her magic were trying to reach out to his.
She glanced back confusedly at Snape, but he gave no indication that he had noticed anything amiss. Lauren had to surmise that she had imagined it.
Dumbledore was seated behind his large claw footed desk, peering at her over his half-moon spectacles.
"Headmaster," she greeted.
"Miss Ward," he greeted back. "I take it you are here to resume our last discussion?"
Lauren gave a nod.
Dumbledore gave her a reassuring, closed-lipped smile and indicated for her to be seated in one of the chairs on the other side of his desk.
As Lauren was settling into the chair, Dumbledore turned his attention to Severus.
"Was there anything else, Severus?"
"For now, no."
Dumbledore nodded serenely.
"But I shall remain until Miss Ward is done here and escort her back to her room."
Dumbledore regarded Severus, his expression unreadable. If he was taken aback by the other wizard's odd behavior, he did not show it.
"Are you in agreement, Miss Ward?" Dumbledore asked, addressing Lauren.
Lauren shrugged. "I trust Professor Snape."
There was a stillness that permeated the room.
"Very well, then," Dumbledore murmured in his gravelly voice, his aged hands clasped in front of him on the desk. "Now, before we begin, I have heard from the rest of the teachers that you have improved markedly in your lessons."
Lauren speculated whether this was what he and Snape had been discussing before she had arrived.
"My magic is coming easier to me, now that I have accepted my…fate." She said the last word with a mixture of resignation and distaste.
"That's good to hear, my dear I must say I am very pleased, especially after the shock you suffered."
That's putting it mildly, Dumbles, she thought sarcastically.
"How are you coping?"
"As well as to be expected," Lauren answered vaguely.
Dumbledore smiled congenially at her and leaned back in his chair, deciding to change the subject. "When I made some discreet inquiries at the Ministry regarding you personally, your name popped up in the Records section."
Lauren frowned, not comprehending where he was going with this.
Snape swept past her and she shivered once more when her magic reacted. He settled in the chair next to hers and Lauren had to really work to stay focused on what Dumbledore was saying and ignore this strange phenomenon that was occurring.
"It would seem that you had a magical relative who passed away many, many years ago."
Lauren's frown deepened. "How is that even possible when I'm not even from this world?"
"Ah, that's where the lines get a bit blurred, I'm afraid."
"I don't follow," she stated.
"You do exist in this world, Miss Ward."
"Excuse me?" Lauren exclaimed incredulously. She glanced over at Snape, who was frowning just as deeply as her.
"I happened to come across a Muggle record of you. I understand that you are using the story that you grew up in a Muggle orphanage."
Lauren nodded.
"Well, the record I unearthed is, coincidently, that for a Muggle orphanage. In a written record, it was stated that at a few hours old you were abandoned on the doorsteps with nothing but a note stating your name and date of birth. And, I'm afraid, that is where your trail ends. There are no other records of you at that orphanage, or even in this world, except that original note."
Lauren blinked at him. "I don't follow. Surely if I existed in this world, even the Muggle one, there would be someone who would remember me, or I would remember growing up here…"
"A record of your birth was implanted here. It doesn't necessarily mean that you did, indeed, exist in this world," Snape remarked.
"Exactly," Dumbledore agreed.
"But…but…" Lauren was at a loss for words, her confusion befuddling her senses. Finally she let out an exasperated breath. "Why implant my…my…" she floundered for the right word, her hand waving aimlessly about as she tried to express herself.
"Your origins? The dawn of your existence?" Snape supplied with his usual barbed tone.
"My origins," Lauren said, grabbing at the first term he had offered. "Why implant my origins but add no other background. Why even do it at all?"
"I would assume that the same ancient magic used to bring you here was used to create your fake…origins," Dumbledore stated with a twinkle in his eye as he used the word they had finally settled on. "Why, I do not know."
Lauren was getting a splitting headache from all her scowling. Somebody went through a great deal of effort to not only bring her to the freaking world of Harry Potter, but to also create a fake identity for her in the process. It just didn't make sense.
"Doesn't it seem rather suspicious to you?" she asked.
"I conceded that it does," Dumbledore agreed.
A thought struck Lauren.
"So…what does that mean? Will I have to go to this orphanage at the end of each school year and hope nobody there realizes that they have never seen me before?"
A benign smile crossed Dumbledore's face. "That's where the next part of my discovery comes into play. Does the name Bethany Anne Ward ring a bell?"
Lauren slowly shook her head from side to side. "No. Should it?"
"She, as it turns out, is your great grand-aunt. The relative I just told you about."
Lauren blinked stupidly at him.
Dumbledore continued as though he didn't notice her abject confusion. "She died without any successors and, at the time of her death, she was the last of her family with any magical blood. Every one of her relatives, even distant ones, turned out to be Muggles and consequently produced Muggle children. It seemed that the magical line died out with her. Until now."
Dumbledore paused, gauging if she was following. Lauren was sure she was going cross-eyed at how hard she was frowning.
"In her will, Miss Bethany Ward stipulated that should a time arise that a magical relative of hers, no matter how distant, surfaced then that relative was to inherit everything. That would be you, Miss Ward."
It felt as if all the air had left her lungs in one swoop, and Lauren was finding it very hard to breath, let alone believe what she was hearing. Finally she drew in a shuddering breath.
"That's all very well, but don't you think it's a bit farfetched that I happen to be her long lost relative?"
"A simple test will be done at the Ministry to prove whether you're a blood relative or not, Miss Ward. I plan to take you there during the Christmas holidays for the required test. Once it has been confirmed that you are a descendant of Bethany Ward's, you will have access to the trust fund she left you. Incidentally, you have also inherited the family manor."
Lauren's eyes bulged. "What? I inherited a house?" she spluttered.
"That is correct."
Lauren shook her head, clutching tightly at the armrests of her chair.
What the blazing fuck?! First, I die and then I'm a bloody supposed orphan, and now I'm the long lost…heiress? of a witch I may not even be related to. What?...How?...How do I even process something like this?
The silence stretched as the two wizards waited for her to say something. Lauren opened her mouth and snapped it shut several times. Finally she leaned forward and clutched her head in her hands, mulling it all over.
Finally, she lifted her gaze. "Doesn't this sound suspicious? All too convenient? It really doesn't add up."
"I agree with you, Miss Ward," Dumbledore rumbled. "That is why there will be a thorough investigation to ensure there is nothing nefarious or sinister behind all of this, though this will take months to ensure everything is safe. But I am confident, if all goes well, that you will be ready to move in by the time the Summer holidays roll around."
Lauren nodded numbly and settled back in her chair. She hadn't really thought about where she would go during the Summer holidays, but this at least solved that problem for her.
Then her eyes widened as a though occurred to her. "Wait! Do my parents exist here?"
Dumbledore gave her a curious look. "There has been no evidence of them. Not even names."
"Thank goodness," Lauren muttered. By the way Severus' head whipped in her direction and the way he was eyeing her speculatively, he must have heard her utterance. Even Dumbledore was frowning. Lauren gave a noncommittal shrug. "They weren't very…nice."
"I can see where you inherited that particular trait from, then," Severus muttered. It was Lauren's turn to whip her head in his direction and glare at him. The corner of his mouth twitched as he returned her gaze.
"Very well," Dumbledore intoned, choosing to ignore Snape's taunt. "But kindly write down their names before you leave, and I'll look further into it."
"If I must. Just don't force me to meet up with them if they do happen to exist in this world," Lauren warned, turning her attention once more to the Headmaster. "And no, I'm not discussing them tonight, or any other night for that matter."
"Of course," Dumbledore agreed. "Now, I'm afraid that's all the news I have. Did you have any further questions?"
Lauren shook her head. Even if she asked about some things that were still confusing her, she doubted Dumbledore would be able to clarify much more; at least not until he unearthed more information.
Her thoughts turned to the reason why she had originally wanted to seek out Dumbledore in the first place but seeing as the subject of her concerns was sitting right next to her, she knew that discussion would have to wait for another time.
Instead, she decided to enquire about something else that had been grating on her nerves for quite some time now.
"As a matter of fact, I would like you to remove whatever spell you placed on me."
"Ah," Dumbledore hummed amusedly. "I'm afraid I cannot."
Lauren mentally counted to ten. It didn't work. "As an adult speaking to another adult, I am requesting that you stop treating me like a child and remove the spell. Please," she ground out, trying very hard not to blow up at the Headmaster.
"Once you have learned to control your temper and outbursts that fuel that colorful tongue of yours, then I shall gladly do so. Otherwise I'm afraid the young ears of my students would become rather tainted."
Lauren snorted. "Have you even heard some of the things the older students say?"
"Indeed, I have," Dumbledore said with an annoying smile. "And I have a feeling you would be the worst out of the whole lot."
"Fine. I'll figure it out on my own." In fact, a person who could help her sprang to mind.
"I wish you luck in your endeavor, Miss Ward," he replied politely.
Lauren rose to her feet. "There is something else I need to discuss with you."
Dumbledore eyed her and she could see the reluctance shining through those twinkling blue eyes as he suspected what she really wanted to talk to him about.
"Perhaps another time."
Lauren nodded stiffly and turned to leave.
"Miss Ward?"
Lauren glanced over her shoulder.
"I heard via the grapevine that you cast a well-executed Expelliarmus spell."
Lauren's gaze shifted to Snape, who had risen fluidly to his feet, his dark eyes boring into her.
Where is Dumbles going with this? she thought.
"Yes," she said, drawing the word out reluctantly.
"Impressive," was all the Headmaster said.
"Yes, it was," Snape drawled, his voice darkening with danger. "As, too, were the rather questionable utterances made."
"No offense, Professor Snape. I know Draco is your godson and all, but sometimes he can be a real prat."
His features darkened as though a shadowy, gauzy curtain had flitted over his face. Dumbledore merely chuckled.
"I'll see myself out," Lauren declared, suddenly eager to get as far away from Snape as possible.
"Not. So. Fast," he enunciated through clenched teeth, his voice deadly soft yet still commanding authority. "I said that I would escort you back to your room, did I not?"
"Um, no. That's okay. I can find my way back just fine."
"I insist," he replied silkily, a cruel sneer curling his lips.
Fuck! Lauren's mind screamed, imaging the various methods of torture he intended to use on her.
Lauren shot Dumbledore a pleading look, hoping for a savior in him, but the old bastard merely chuckled at her discomfort and motioned for her to go with Snape.
Snape strode past her and opened the door, motioning for her to precede him.
"Holy mother forking shirt ball," she muttered darkly under her breath as she passed him. "Can't I ever catch a break?"
"Not when you intentionally seek out trouble," Snape said, closing the door behind them before descending the spiraling stairs. As he brushed past her, Lauren shivered as the warm swirl of her magic rose to the surface once again.
"Did Draco happen to tell you that he drew his wand first. I merely defended myself," she ground out as she followed behind him.
"Miss Ward, I really do not care about petty squabbles," he drawled as he strode past the gargoyle.
"You don't? Then why were you acting as though you were going to deliver my second death?" she enquired as she walked beside him, being careful to keep distance between them.
"Simply for the enjoyment of seeing you squirm," he stated with a sardonic smirk.
Lauren gaped at him before snapping her mouth shut and glaring at him instead. "You really are the penultimate Bumblebee." Lauren cringed. "Oh, fork this! Take this forking spell off me right now!"
Snape paused and pretended to consider it. "I really don't see the benefit of doing so, Miss Ward."
Lauren glared at him and said the only thing she was able to say. "You suck."
"Twenty points from Slytherin." His grin broadened. "And if you choose to carry on, believe me, I can be quite creative when it comes to detention."
Lauren had no doubts about his creativity, and wisely kept her mouth shut as they made their way back down to the dungeon.
~oOo~
Soon Halloween was upon them.
"Come on, Lauren," Tracey urged Lauren was seated by one of the tables in the Slytherin Common Room, writing out a ridiculously long essay for her Transfiguration homework. "We're going to be late for the Halloween Feast."
Lauren paused, her quill poised over her parchment as a memory floated to the surface of her brain.
The Halloween Feast? Isn't that when Quirrell causes a diversion and tries to get to the Stone? But Snape stops him, so it's all good…But what if Snape doesn't try because he had no prior warning?...
Lauren bolted out of her seat and started shoving her books and homework into her bag. "You go ahead, Tracey. I'm just going to put this back in our room, and I'll be right there."
Tracey shot her a quizzical look, noting the unease that was rolling off Lauren in waves, but gave a nod. That's what she liked about Tracey: she very rarely questioned Lauren.
As soon as Tracey had left the now deserted Common Room, Lauren dashed to her room and flung her bag onto her bed carelessly before racing out of the Slytherin Common Room. As she barreled through the dungeon, she prayed feverishly that Snape was still in his office and hadn't left for the Feast yet.
She rounded the corner and careened into something solid. Something solid and black. She fell to the ground, landing hard on her ass, and stared up dazedly at the Potions Master himself, who now wore a condescending scowl.
"Why am I not surprised?" he huffed. "Hasn't anyone ever told you watch where you are going?"
Lauren scrambled to her feet. "Lecture me another time. I need to warn you about something."
Snape studied her for a moment, his pale features sharpening as he took in the anxious look plastered on her face.
"About what?"
Lauren glanced up and down the empty corridor, ensuring that they were indeed alone. Turning her attention once more to Severus, she blurted out, "Tonight Quirrell is going to cause a diversion at the feast. He's going to try and get the Stone."
Snape paled. "Are you certain."
"Of course I am, otherwise I wouldn't be here right now, would I," she snapped.
He pressed his lips together to suppress from retorting with an equally scathing remark. Coming to a decision, he remarked, "Very well. I'll see what I can do."
Snape reached out, intent on guiding her to the Great Hall, but the moment his hand touched her shoulder, her magic flared hungrily as it tried desperately to reach out to him.
He instantly snatched his hand away as though burned. His brows knitted together as he stared at his hand, rubbing his thumb and index finger together.
He feels it too…
"What just happened?" Lauren asked.
Her voice seemed to snap him out of his contemplation. Dropping his hand to his side, Snape met her enquiring gaze, his eyes a shade darker than normal. "Nothing important. Now let's get to the feast before we're late."
Lauren reluctantly followed him, knowing full well that he was purposely omitting telling her what had just happened. He had no intentions of being forthcoming with her, this much was obvious.
When they reach the open doors of the Great Hall, Snape motioned with a long-fingered hand for her to precede him. Lauren noted that he was being extra cautious to ensure they didn't touch again.
Still feeling confused, she entered the Hall. Lauren stilled, stunned at the grandeur sight before her. Jack 'o lanterns floated above the sea of students seated at the tables, the enchanted ceiling reflecting a clear night sky sprinkled with glowing silvery stars. Hundreds of bats swooped overhead in a swirling cloud, their leathery wings flapping rhythmically and blending in with the voices of excitedly chatting students.
The tables were laden with a variety of mouth-watering dishes and Lauren hurriedly made her way to her House table, her stomach growling as the delicious scents wafted all around her.
She settled next to Tracey and dished up jacket potatoes smothered in sour cream and chives, some hickory ribs, and a generous helping of corn and carrots.
She glanced up as she ate, noting that Snape was barely touching his food, but was rather analyzing his surroundings with a suspicious eye.
Just then Quirrell came sprinting into the Great Hall, his turban askew and terror writ all over his face.
"Troll!" he cried. "In the dungeon." Quirrell paused and added in a faint tone, "Thought you ought to know." With that he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
A heavy pause followed his news and then utter chaos erupted like a heavy rain cloud bursting. Students rose to their feet in a panic, their screams and shouts now reverberating throughout the room in a deafening din.
Dumbledore rose to his feet and shouted; his voice magically amplified as he commanded everyone's attention.
"Quiet!"
The room instantly stilled.
Dumbledore drew in a breath and continued more calmly. "Prefects, lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!"
The Prefects wasted no time in ushering each of their houses from the Great Hall.
Lauren followed the rest of her House, glancing back over her shoulder only to see that Snape was noticeably absent, having disappeared like a fleeting shadow.
Suddenly a cold hand curled around her wrist. Lauren glanced up and froze at the sight of Quirrell peering down at her.
"Miss Ward could y…y…you p…p…please come with me," he stuttered.
Oh shit! What does he want? Lauren's insides froze as realization hit her. He's not after the Stone…. He's after me! Fuck!
Lauren swallowed thickly and gave a single nod. A pleased smile graced his face and Quirrell released her wrist, turning his back on her.
He was so confident that she would follow him that he didn't even glance back. Lauren chose that moment to run in the other direction, ducking low so that she would get lost in the crowd of her fellow Slytherins, her heart hammering loudly in her chest.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! This was not supposed happen.
When the Slytherins reached the dungeons, Lauren hung back. Making a split-second decision, she dashed towards the Potion's classroom.
Yanking the door open, she entered, closing it firmly behind her with an audible click.
Lauren wasted no time and immediately made her way to Snape's office door, praying that it wasn't locked. She didn't know what she would do if it was.
As soon as her hand curled around the door handle, the warm and familiar sensation of Snape's magic washed over her. Then the door clicked open, much to Lauren's surprise. She hesitated but, coming to a decision, slunk inside, making doubly sure to shut the door behind her.
The low fire was burning in the hearth and the lamps were lit. Lauren took a steadying breath to calm her nerves and sank into one of the chairs as she waited for Severus to return, her mind reeling at what just happened.
Why hadn't Quirrell gone after the Stone like he was supposed to? Why did he choose to try and get me instead? And what does he want with me anyway?
These questions looped through her mind like a broken record and after an hour, she still had no answers.
Suddenly the door banged opened and Lauren yelped, jumping to her feet.
Snape stood tall and imposing in the doorway, staring at her with a dark scowl etched on his pale face.
"How did you get in my office?!" he snapped. "I had it warded."
Lauren fidgeted nervously. "I, uh, touched the door handle and it clicked open."
His frown deepened. "That's impossible."
"Maybe you forgot to ward it."
"I never forget to ward my doors, Miss Ward," he hissed.
"Well then, I have no other explanation. I touched the handle, I felt your magic, and then the door opened for me."
Snape froze instantly at her words, just as he had a few weeks prior.
Lauren's gaze dropped and she froze at the sight of his torn pants, blood dripping from the vicious looking bite.
"You're hurt!"
Snape snapped out of his stupor and glanced down at his leg before adjusting his cloak to hide the wound.
"It's nothing."
Lauren arched a brow. "A bite from Fluffy isn't what I would call nothing."
Snape snorted and shut the door behind him before limping over to his cabinet, pulling a bottle of Firewhisky from the shelf. "Who the hell names a beast like that Fluffy?" he muttered, more to himself than her.
"Hagrid."
"Indeed," he remarked dryly as he limped over to his desk and poured himself a glass.
Without offering her any (not that she expected him to), Snape slumped heavily into his chair and downed the golden liquid in one go.
"Shouldn't you have your leg looked at?" Lauren asked as she settled back in her chair.
He waved his hand dismissively. "I have dealt with far worse injuries before. I can heal this myself."
Lauren stilled at the meaning of his words, sensing that he was vaguely referring to the torture he had suffered during the first war.
"There was no sign of Quirrell," he remarked as he refilled his glass. His gaze snapped up to give her an accusing look before he gulped that glass down too.
"Yeah," she said, drawing the words out guiltily. This caused Snape's eyes to narrow. "He was supposed to go after the Stone. But it seems like he was more interested in getting his hands on me instead. Sorry about that."
Snape stilled, the seconds ticking by as he stared at her with a stunned expression. "He went after you instead?"
Lauren gave a nod.
"How did you get away?"
"I agreed to go with him and as soon as his back was turned, I high-tailed it out of there."
Snape placed his tumbler on the desk with a thud and rose stiffly to his feet.
"I'll take you back to your room."
"But -."
"I need to speak to the Headmaster immediately," Snape snapped. "For once cease being your usual annoying self and do what I tell you."
Lauren drew in a deep breath and exhaled before rising to her feet, inwardly fuming that he was getting snippy with her. "Fine. But don't expect me to help you walk there."
"I wouldn't dream of it," he shot back with his usual abrasiveness.
The walk back to the Slytherin dormitory was slightly longer than usual as Snape limped beside her, but he refused to show any outward signs of pain.
When they reached the doors, Lauren turned to him, noting that this was becoming their usual custom.
"Are you going to be okay?" she asked concernedly.
"I shall live, Miss Ward," he drawled, looking for all the world disinterested, but Lauren wasn't fooled.
"Just…be careful," she stated, cracking the door open.
"Your concern is touching," was his sarcastic reply. "Now get inside," he snapped.
"Well someone has to care about you. Might as well be me."
With that parting remark, Lauren slipped inside and closed the door behind her, missing the indecipherable look that washed over the Professor's face.
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