Chapter 6:

Snape's POV:

Severus's quill threatened to snap under his clenched fists, but he paid no attention. The report Dumbledore asked him for, regarding his latest mission for the Order of the Phoenix, seemed like a faraway dream.

It was her.

She was here. Within the walls of Hogwarts.

Snape clenched his hands tighter to keep them from shaking. Under too much strain, his quill snapped in two, spilling ink all over his blank parchment. He cursed, tossed the soiled parchment in the trash, and grabbed a new quill and parchment.

He never imagined—never dreamed that she would someday stroll into one of his lessons. She was supposed to be somewhere far away, unfindable, unreachable, and untouchable. And here she was, residing in the very place he and his sister risked everything to keep her from.

Snape stood then, much too restless to write that report.

Voldemort wanted an heir. Not as a successor, but as a tool. Of course he would never let a soul exist if they had the potential to surpass him—for he alone was going to rule the world. He would not share that glory with anyone. Voldemort already planned on killing the child if he showed the potential of surpassing his own power.

He needed a tool that could operate the powerful artifacts left behind by Slytherin, which could only be controlled by Parseltongue, in his absence. This heir would also be able to perform some of the most powerful dark spells that required Parseltongue incantations, so was therefore lost to everyone else but him.

He chose from the most loyal of his female followers. Of course Bellatrix was the first to offer. She would have wanted nothing more than the honor of bearing his child. Being a powerful pureblooded witch, she was a good candidate, but she was married, and Voldemort did not want someone who belonged to someone else. 'Distasteful', he had said. So Voldemort chose Elena Snape, Severus's younger sister. She was young, and had not been a death eater for very long, not long enough to have proved herself most loyal. But she was a powerful witch. She was also highly intelligent and very gifted, so Voldemort marked her as his surrogate.

Elena had not liked this. He remembered the conference when this was decided. Bellatrix was purple with rage and envy. Elena had turned very pale and a layer of perspiration dewed on her forehead. She had not displayed enthusiasm, but responded with a shaky 'Yes, my lord'.

Elena then looked over at Severus for help, but he could not help her. He did not like this idea either, but he had no say in the matter. Once you were a Death Eater, your life, your soul, and everything you had to offer, belonged to the Dark Lord.

Only Severus and Narcissa Malfoy were there for the birth. Voldemort had better things to do than watch the birth of his own child. They couldn't take her to St. Mungo's, Elena was a wanted Death Eater and criminal. But she was in capable hands. Severus knew a lot of healing magic, and had a stash of potions ready in case something went wrong.

Eventually, the twins were born. One boy and one girl.

That was the first dilemma to take care of. Voldemort wanted an heir—specifically, a son. If she presented him with the twins, he would likely kill the second born girl. If Elena presented him with just a daughter, he would probably kill her and make them try again. If she presented him with just a son, he might be—just might be—contented. Even if somehow, he didn't kill the baby girl, there was no point in dooming them both to a life of servitude. There was no hope of escape for Elena's son, but there was hope for her daughter.

She named her son Struan Tobias, and her daughter, Senna Severus. Severus reprimanded her for this decision. Naming her after Severus and their grandmother would be too recognizable, especially if Snape were her surname. But she was unyielding. That was to be her name.

So that night, Severus escaped with his newborn niece in his arms, and fled far away. He left the city, left Great Britain, and then left the European continent all together. He ventured to a place far from the reaches of Voldemort, and far from any sort of magical dwelling. Someday, she would realize she was a witch. Maybe someday, if her magical power was discovered, she may even be given a magical education. But she was far away now, and safe. No one here would hear her name and know her roots. There were millions of witches and wizards in the world, and nearly seven billion people on this planet. What were the chances?

He took one last look at the pink-faced infant. It was very cold, if they did not discover her soon, she would freeze to death. So he covered the bundle with his traveling cloak, knocked loudly on the orphanage door, and hid in the shadows of another building. Senna did not cry when he left her on the orphanage steps. He watched and waited.

An older woman wearing a nun's dress opened the door and gasped. She picked up the bundle wrapped in the black cloak and disappeared through the door, closing it behind her.

There were only four people Severus was sure knew of the girl's existence. Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore—told by Severus, Elena Snape, and Narcissa Malfoy. Perhaps Minerva McGonagall knew as well.

Severus paced back and forth in his office. He brought a hand to his temple to massage his growing headache.

But she was here now, right in the heart of danger. Or was she? Her greatest danger—Lord Voldemort—had been vanquished by the Potter boy thirteen years ago.

But what would Prince Struan do if he found out he had a sister? Seek her out? Destroy or recruit her? Or perhaps he would not care. Struan was very different from his father, but by no means was he any less cruel.

Or perhaps she was the danger? What would she do if she discovered she was the offspring of the most powerful dark wizard of all time? Would she join forces with the dark and strive to walk in her father's footsteps?

It was difficult to speculate, he had so little knowledge about her. She walked with an air of grace. The way she stood with her shoulders pressed back and her chin in the air told Severus that she determined, and thought highly of herself—as she should. She was very beautiful, and given her performance in potions, she may be very gifted as well.

But something about her appearance stirred uneasily in his stomach. When she had looked up at him from her brewing potion, her eyes were hard and cold. They seemed resentful. And lonely. These were things Severus often saw in his own reflection, and knew that it never led people in the right direction. They were the two emotions that often brought out the worst in people—including himself.

Senna's POV:

Hannah raised an eyebrow at Senna as she wolfed down her dinner.

"What's the hurry?" Hannah asked her.

"Detention," Senna answered, "I don't want to be late."

Hannah seemed shocked. "What did you do?"

"Potions. It was all Jordan's fault." Senna grumbled. "He kept talking to me during Professor Snape's lecture, and landed us both detention."

Hannah cringed on Senna's behalf. "I'm so sorry, that stinks."

Senna sighed, but did not reply. She was not perturbed, she was curious. She had a feeling it would not be as unpleasant as Jordan's detention. But that could just be her subconscious over-estimating the impressed look Professor Snape gave her earlier that day.

After scarfing down the last of her dinner, Senna left the Great Hall. She descended the stone stairs in search of the dungeons.

"Oi, why aren't you at dinner with everyone else?" A woman's voice echoed down from the staircase.

It was Tonks. Senna groaned.

Senna's heart jumped. She froze in the deserted corridor and Tonks jogged down the staircase to catch up to her. On one of the last steps, Tonks's foot missed its target, and as if in slow motion, Tonks flew forward.

Thinking quickly, Senna drew her wand. Impedimenta!

The velocity of Tonks's body immediately slowed to a crawl. She then floated gently to the floor.

Breathing hard, Tonks pushed herself onto her knees. Senna held out a hand to help her up. Grateful, she took it. Her hand was warm and strong, and it gripped hers firmly. She tried not to think about how those hands felt when they had roamed her body on their second encounter. But she failed, and the images from that day flooded into her mind. She could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks.

"Ahh that was some quick wand work." She huffed, "Thanks for that. That would have really hurt." Tonks eyed the stone ground with a grimace.

"No problem." Senna turned around to continue making her way to Snape's office.

"Wait," Tonks demanded. She recovered her authoritative air and placed her hands on her hips. "Where are you going? You should be in the great hall having dinner."

"I have detention," Senna said nonchalantly, "with Professor Snape."

Tonks cringed just like Hannah had done. Were his detentions that bad? "Blimey, that sucks." She thought for a moment. "Funny, I thought you to be the studious type, not the delinquent type."

A flash of irritation went through Senna. "I'm not a delinquent." Senna hissed through her teeth. "It wasn't my fault. It was that prat Lee Jordan."

"Right." Tonks rolled her eyes.

Another flash of irritation went through her. "Really, it was."

"Not a lot of students can manage to get detention on their first day." Tonks winked and then grinned at her.

Did she think this was funny? With her wand was still in her hand, Senna was tempted to jinx the grin off her face. She tightened her grip on her wand.

As if reading her thoughts, Tonks's eyes flickered to Senna's wand hand, then back to her face. Her grin widened. She gave Senna a look as if daring her to try anything. Tonks's hazel eyes twinkled in their mockery. Senna considered it for a moment, but decided against it. She might have—Auror or not, if that grin wasn't so sexy. That mischievous grin made her heart beat unevenly in her chest.

Senna put her wand away in the pocket of her white blazer—part of the standard Brownwell uniform.

Tonks stepped forward. "What time is your detention?"

"Eight." Senna grumbled.

"Eight?" Tonks pulled out a gold pocket watch from her robes. "It's only six-forty-five. Why do you need to be so early? Snape is still eating." Tonks looked at her suspiciously.

Senna flushed. Tonks was right. She hadn't been paying attention to time, and she was way too early. She was preoccupied. Truthfully, she was desperate to know more about him. She wanted to know if they were related and somehow thought this detention would hold the answers.

Feeling embarrassed, Senna wracked her brain for excuses, but came up empty. So she settled for a partial truth. "Err… Right." Senna stammered. "I'll kill some time in the library I guess."

Senna turned to leave, but was stopped by a firm grip around her upper arm. Senna turned around, only to be pushed against the stone wall. Senna gasped in surprise. It was very uncharacteristic for Tonks.

Senna looked up into Tonks's eyes, trying to find the reason for her sudden pounce. But it was difficult to figure the situation out, Senna was too distracted. Her mind was swimming with the sudden assault of sensations going through her body. Tonks's toned body pressing hers against the wall. She could feel her firm breasts pressing into her chest, her hips pushing her own against the wall. It was all very arousing. She cursed at herself—why must she feel such things at inappropriate times?

But when Senna's mind stopped swimming long enough to capture Tonks's gaze, her heart lurched into overdrive. Her eyes were dark and lustful, and she felt them burning into her. Senna stared back at those dark eyes for a long moment, feeling each heartbeat pounding painfully harder. What was Tonks doing? What was she thinking?

Senna couldn't stop her gaze from glancing down to her lips. God, they looked soft. The thought of how her lips would feel made her abdomen tighten uncomfortably.

Tonks shook her head, clearing it. Whatever had possessed her so suddenly was now gone. Tonks's eyes were back to its normal hazel color—and she looked very ashamed.

"Um, sorry bout that." She stepped away from her.

Senna was more confused than angry. And if she could admit to herself—disappointed. Why was Tonks behaving this way? Maybe she was like this one everyone. Antagonizing one moment and then aggressive the next.

Tonks blushed furiously. "Go ahead to the library. Sorry I stopped you."

But Senna did not move. She knew now that the lust in her eyes was not a figment of her imagination. It was real, and Tonks's actions just proved it. But what should she say to her? She didn't know what she wanted from Tonks, let alone how to say it.

"Why did you do that?" Senna asked her.

With her head turned the other way, Senna couldn't see her face, but her pink hair had turned a shade of red. "I don't know. Sorry. Just forget about it." She waved a hand and began to walk away.

Senna stepped forward and stopped her with a hand on her arm. "No." She refused, "Tell me what it is you want from me. Don't think I didn't notice how you touched me when you caught me sneaking around under the disillusionment charm. Or do you do this to every girl you meet?" Senna blushed too. It was embarrassing to hear it out loud.

Tonks flinched under her accusations. "No I don't." She lowered her voice. "Just you."

Senna should've been disturbed, repulsed even. But instead, she took pleasure in those words. Just you.

Why, she wanted to ask, but thought better of it. She didn't know Tonks very well, but knew she would not answer truthfully. Not yet.

Tonks turned to face her, resolve strong in her eyes. "It won't—"

Senna placed a finger on her lips to silence her. She knew she was going to say it won't happen again, and she didn't want to hear it. For a reason she had yet to figure out, she didn't want it to stop. She enjoyed their few awkward encounters that made her blood run hot.

She tried to ignore how Tonks's lips were just as soft as she'd imagined. "Don't bother." Senna told her.

She saw the resolve wavering in her eyes, replaced by confusion and a hint of lust. Her lips parted slightly, and the hot breath that touched her finger made her shiver.

She withdrew her finger. "I'm going to library now." Senna quickly leaned in, placed her lips gently on her cheek in farewell, and darted back up the stairs, leaving the dazed Auror in the dark corridor.

Senna did not have much luck in the library. None of the books that contained information on the tournament were returned yet. There was not even a trace of Hogwarts, A History. Perhaps, if the situation allowed it, she could ask Professor Snape. She spent her hour with her nose deep in A Guide to Hexing your Foes. Senna knew a lot of hexes. By her second year, she knew more hexes than most of the seventh-years did. She didn't put the book down until she found three new ways she could hex Lee Jordan.

Senna stood at the door to Professor Snape's office, hesitating. Why was she nervous? Swallowing her fears, she knocked twice.

"Come in." Snape's voice said, muffled from the wooden door between them.

Senna let herself in, observing the jars of eye balls, herbs, and other sinister ingredients as she passed. She stopped at Snape's desk. He ignored her, writing furiously on a piece of parchment. She followed the spatters of ink on the table and saw a pile of broken quills, their broken tips dripping ink into the bin. That was odd. Why had he broken his quills?

He stood up very suddenly and rolled up his parchment. "Sit." He commanded, pointing to the chair in front of his desk. Senna obeyed. "I want a list of seven antidotes to uncommon poisons and I want you to summarize how they're made. When you're done with that, list the ingredients needed to brew the Antidote to Veritaserum, and the top mistakes amateur potion makers make when brewing this concoction." Snape pointed to the rolls of blank parchment. "I'm going to the owlry, I'll be right back. Don't even think about cheating." And he was gone, closing the door behind him.

This wasn't so bad. She was familiar with all those things. She had studied these things on her own as they weren't included in the regular curriculum. It was just like an exam—and Senna was good at those. She exhaled in relief, and picked up a quill to start.

Snape came in a few minutes later, but she did not dare look up from her parchment. He sat across from her on his chair.

It was quiet—too quiet, but she wouldn't dare take a peek until she was done. A half-an-hour passed and her hand began to cramp up. She pushed through it.

An hour passed. Her hand was protesting painfully, but she was almost done. She was just adding the last few brewing mistakes that amateurs often made where Veritaserum Antidote was concerned.

Finished. She placed her quill down on the desk and looked up at Snape for the first time since she got here. He was staring back at her, his black eyes focused on her face. She flinched away from the intensity of his stare, although it wasn't malicious. It seemed gauging, like he was trying to figure something out.

And she did the same. She observed him too, trying to find any likeness of herself in him. But the hooked nose and sallow face did not seem familiar to her. His gaze seemed somehow tormented, as if existing was an exhausting chore. That was something Senna often saw in herself. She had spent most of her life feared and friendless. It left her bitter and morose—until the hope of a new start had arisen from the Triwizard Tournament.

What was the reason for his torment?

Snape's POV:

Snape tried to look away casually when he got caught, pretending to look at something fascinating on the shelves. He did not want to make it seem like he had been staring at her for very long, even though he had been staring at her for the whole hour.

She got most of her looks from her father. He'd seen pictures of him, in the hall of past prefects. He was a very handsome man with dark walnut-brown hair, dark eyes, high cheekbones, a defined jaw line, and a body that looked like it was sculpted by a god. Of course, this was before his soul was mutilated to the point where he was hardly even human. She resembled that perfection in its feminine form. She had some of her mother too. Her hair was midnight black which fell gracefully over her shoulders and down to her waist. When writing, she furrowed her delicate brows together in concentration—the same way Elena Snape had done when they were in school.

"I'm finished." She told him.

Earlier this morning, he was compelled to have her come to his office, and had been anxious about this moment for the entire day. But now, he could not think of a single thing to say. What did he expect this to be? A family reunion?

No, it was better that she didn't know. He could not allow her to know. It would be far too dangerous. And what would she do when she found out? No little girl dreams about being the child of the most awful dark wizard in the world.

Without a word, he held out a hand to collect it.

"You are dismissed. Return straight to your quarters." He told her.

He saw her face fall infinitesimally, as if she were expecting something else. But she squared her shoulders and spoke, "Good night, Professor." With a bow of her head, she spun around to leave.

Senna paused at the door. Snape's hand tightened around his quill.

"Professor," Senna said softly without turning around.

Snape did not respond. He simply waited.

"Professor, do you…" She started, but paused, "know me?" Her back was still facing him.

Snape thought carefully about his next words. He contemplated just repeating his order to go to bed, but that would seem suspicious. "No," he said in a low voice. "I don't know who you are. Yes, I've noticed the similarity of our names, but I assure you, it is just a coincidence."

If he wasn't watching her so intently, he wouldn't have noticed how her shoulders slumped forward very slightly.

"Right." She said in an uncharacteristically cold voice. "I suppose, if I was someone you knew… if I was worth something to anyone, they would have gone looking for me."

She closed the door behind her. Snape was left with a tight feeling in his heart, and another broken quill in his hand.