The Unexpected Quandary

by mozie

This fiction is set the September after Deathly Hallows. The only difference is that Severus Snape survived. Prequel to An Even Greater Challenge. Severus Snape returns to Hogwarts after the defeat of the Dark Lord and is immediately intrigued by one of his first years. This fanfic contains snapshots of Sophie Winterchild's and Snape's first year together. Severus Snape Mentor fic.

Hello everyone! Welcome to my new Fic. This fiction is set the September after Deathly Hallows. The only difference is that Severus Snape survived.

The Unexpected Quandary is a prequel to my next work, An Even Greater Challenge. Severus Snape returns to Hogwarts after the defeat of the Dark Lord and is immediately intrigued by one of his first years. This fanfic contains snapshots of Sophie Winterchild's and Snape's first year together.

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The Unexpected Quandary

Part 1 – Autumn

Smoke billowed across the platform stinging Sophie's eyes as she stared at the huge steam engine in front of her, a mixture of excitement and fear churning in her stomach.

'Hurry up Sophia, it's about to go.' A hand came down on her shoulder and she jumped and glanced up at her aunt, somewhat taken aback by the kind tone in the woman's voice. Her cousins, fifth year twins smirked at her as they lifted the three large trunks into the luggage compartment. Sophie took a step forward but her aunt's hand tightened around her shoulder, her bony fingers digging into the top of the Sophie's back, causing her to wince. She locked eyes with her niece. 'Remember?' The single word was hissed with such venom that Sophie knew that she wouldn't dare forget. 'Now say good bye and give me a hug Sophia.' Her aunt continued, speaking at normal volume again. Mechanically, Sophie did as she was told and stepped forwards into her aunt's embrace. She gritted her teeth against the sting of pressure against her raw back and glared down at the ground as she was released, schooling her features not to show any emotion.

'Goodbye Aunt Josephine,' she mumbled, knowing that a response would be required.

'Let me help you into the train,' her cousin Rowan said, offering her hand down to the small first year. Sophie looked doubtfully at the offered hand, knowing that it was probably a trick and determined to get up the step by herself. Then she remembered that there was something wrong with her wrist and knew that there was no way that she would make it on her own.

'Dunno why you helped the freak,' Reuben, Rowan's twin muttered under his breath as Sophie stumbled past him. Under the guise of straightening her robes, he dug his hand into her side at the point where he knew she had an old injury. Sophie hitched in a breath and scowled at him, sidestepping away. She felt herself starting to get angry and sucked in a deep breath, trying not to let it overrule her.

'I'm going to find a carriage.' She wished she felt as steady and as sure as her voice sounded.

'Well, don't think you're sitting with us, we're going to the Prefect's carriage.' Rowan told her, as Sophie stumbled passed her.

As if she would dare forget that the twins had both been given the honour of Prefect this year. Sophie scowled at her but didn't bother replying; did they think that she wanted to sit with them? The train suddenly lurched forward and Sophie lost her balance and grabbed at the nearest wall to steady herself. She couldn't suppress the yelp of pain as her bad wrist took most of her body weight.

'Stop wincing and whining or I'll write to mum and dad.' Reuben said softly. Fear thrilled through Sophie's veins but she tried not to show him that he'd scared her.

'Like I care,' she hissed,' trying to summon her earlier anger with marginal success.

Of course, as soon as she rounded the corner and got away from them, the anger fizzled away and she felt a strange empty apathy in its wake. Instead of finding a carriage, she found an empty toilet cubicle and barricaded herself inside. She stared at her own pale face in the toilet mirror, simultaneously interested and disgusted by her appearance – she looked healthier than normal, probably due to that foul tasting strengthening potion that her aunt had forced down her throat that morning before they left the house. There was also no sign of the scars that she knew ran from the corner of her right eye, down her cheek almost to her mouth or the one above her left eyebrow. Her dark brown hair was neatly plaited back. She looked like a normal schoolgirl.

With one swift motion, Sophie shrugged out of her new too-big school robes and turned, craning over her shoulder so that she could see her back in the mirror. To her surprise, there was nothing there, just the shape of her bones protruding out from under her skin, which didn't make any sense at all because she could still feel them. She realised that her aunt must have used a glamour charm on her to hide the evidence. It was a pity that it had done nothing to take away the pain.

Sophie suddenly became aware that there was someone banging on the door and she quickly pulled her robes back over her head, her eyes pricking with tears the movement sent a sharp spike of pain through her back. She pulled open the door and saw that there was a group of three older girls waiting in the corridor outside.

'What we're you doing in there?' One of them asked, brandishing what looked like a pair of curling irons in her hand.

'Taking forever,' another said, pushing past her.

Sophie sneered at them both. 'What does one usually do in a toilet?' She asked waspishly, meeting the eyes of the third girl, who was looking at her with compassion.

'You're a first year, aren't you?' She asked, as her friends entered the small toilet and started using the sink to dampen their hair in preparation for the curlers. Sophie didn't like the way that this girl was looking at her. She nodded curtly, scowling at the floor. 'Look, it's okay to be upset; we've all been there but if I were you, I'd find a quiet carriage somewhere if you want to cry instead of the toilet - people will be bothering you all day if you hog the loo.' Sophie felt herself flushing.

'I haven't been crying,' she spat. It was true - crying was one of the things that was absolutely not tolerated at her aunt's tightly run ship. As a result, Sophie was usually dry eyed and she tended to resort to anger instead of tears when things got bad.

'Okay okay…' the girl raised her hands up in a peaceable gesture and turned to follow her friends. 'Good luck with the sorting later.'

Sophie glowered at her retreating figure and then quickly made her way back down the train to the luggage compartment.

It was an uncomfortable day spent crouching among the trunks and when the train finally pulled into Hogsmeade station, Sophie was exhausted, the strengthening potion having long since stopped working. Stiffly, she got to her feet and joined the throng of students all jostling for the exits, feeling slightly claustrophobic with the sheer number of people pressing in around her on all sides. It was a relief to step out onto the platform and the cool night air immediately helped her to feel more like herself again. She drew in several breaths, taking care not to inflate her lungs too much in case the action aggravated the cracked rib that she had sustained a fortnight before.

'Shouldn't you be on a boat?' Sophie felt a hand touching her arm and jerked away instinctively, stifling a gasp of pain as the sudden movement tugged at her back. She looked up into the pale face of the tall young man who was staring down at her.

'A boat?' She managed to croak out a reply.

'You're a first year, aren't you? First years always get to castle by boat. It's the tradition. Come on I'll take you.'

He seemed to just expect her to follow him as he turned on his heal and led her through the rapidly thinning crowd of students towards the end of the platform where a path led down through a small copse of trees to the black metal like surface of a huge body of water. Further along the bank, Sophie could see a small fleet of boats bobbing up and down on the water, each with a lantern attached to the prow and another to the stern so they cast weird distorted shadows on the surrounding water.

'Wait up, Hagrid. I've got a straggler for you.' The pale haired boy called as they approached.

'Thank you, Malfoy.' An enormous shadow disentangled itself from one of the boats and splashed down into the water. Sophie shrank back a little, then squared her shoulders and stepped forwards.

'We nearly left you behind.' The giant told her reprovingly. Without asking her permission, he picked Sophie up under her arms and plonked her down in the nearest boat.

'I didn't do it on purpose,' Sophie spat, furious at being manhandled in such a way, particularly since this giant seemed to have crushed her already tender ribcage. Huffing audibly, she plumped herself down on the empty seat, ignoring the way that the boat's other occupants, a scared-looking girl with blonde pigtails and a ginger boy with buck teeth, stared at her for a few seconds before quickly resuming their former discussion about the houses they hoped to be sorted into.

Sophie, personally, cared only about one thing – about not being placed in the same house as the twins, who were both in Gryffindor. Anywhere but Gryffindor. Her mother had been a Slytherin and her aunt had told her numerous times over the past few months that she had, 'better not be sorted into filthy Slytherin too'. But Aunt Josephine wasn't here now, and the punishment for disobeying this order was surely far off too. She resolved to ask the sorting hat to put her in Slytherin or, failing that, in either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Anywhere where the twins would not be able to reach her.

SSSSSS

In his own private quarters, it was, of course, impossible for Severus Snape to hear when the students returned to the castle after the summer break but, nonetheless, he sensed a slight change in atmosphere when the first carriage drew up outside the castle steps. He smirked to himself as he got to his feet, swiftly replacing the book he'd been reading onto the small bookshelf to the right of the fireplace - gone were the good times. It was true that he didn't dislike teaching, he was good at it and it came naturally to him and sometimes he even enjoyed sharing his knowledge, moreover he disliked teenagers, or rather, he disliked the majority of teenagers. There were the occasional few, a mere handful that he'd come across in his nearly twenty years as a Professor, that were the exception to this blanket rule.

Severus had returned this year in his old capacity as Potions Master, after willingly handing the headship back to Professor McGonagall. Although he enjoyed teaching, he had loathed being in charge of the school, particularly in charge of the school when it contained the Carrow siblings, with their brutal punishments and their ghastly teaching. The last year had been a tough one, there was no doubt about that, as he had tried, somewhat desperately at times, not to show how much he hated the fact that the wizarding world was collapsing around them and that he was apparently helping to destroy it. This coming year would be easier now that the war was over but, even so, Minerva could take the reins again.

Like the rest of the Professors at Hogwarts, Severus had a modest suite of rooms in the castle, comprising of two bedrooms, one large and one slightly smaller which he had reappropriated into his own private library, a bathroom, a sitting room and a small kitchen with fairly-basic facilities (the Professors were expected to eat most of their meals either in the Great Hall or in the staff dining room and these, like the students' meals were cooked by house elves). His quarters could be accessed from two points, the first being a hidden door, off the same dungeon passage as his office which opened directly into his sitting room and the second, which opened from his hall out onto what they called 'the teacher's wing', a small stone courtyard off which all of the Professors had their living quarters. The courtyard itself was always miraculously warm and sunny, having, apparently, no association at all with what the weather around the castle was doing, and had easy access to the staff rooms – the shared sitting rooms, dining room and staff library where they could go if they desired company. Such was the magic of the castle, it did not matter where the rooms were physically located, all of the doors converged here. Severus also had a private potions laboratory near his office where he brewed for the hospital wing and, on rarer occasions, for St Mungo's, and a large store cupboard, separate from the students' much more basic store.

Quickly donning his usual black robes, Severus exited his rooms via the staff courtyard as this was the swiftest way to get to the Great Hall. Entering less than a minute later from behind the staff table, he was immediately blasted by the cacophony of several hundred children talking excitedly and, feeling his lip curling almost of its own accord, he slid into his usual chair and reached for a goblet of water. The peace and quiet of the summer months was well and truly at an end for another term.

'Have something a little stronger, Severus – we're bound to need it.' Professor Sinistra of the astronomy department said, giving him a roguish wink and handing him a goblet of elf-made wine.

'Thank you, Aurora, much appreciated.' It was much appreciated – now that his role as a double agent against the Dark Lord had come to light, he very much appreciated how much of an effort his fellow Professors were making to reintegrate him into their ranks. There had been a few awkward and bumpy moments but, for the most part, things had been smooth sailing.

Severus took a sip from the goblet and let the wine run over the top of his tongue appreciatively before staring out into the hall once more, his eyes flicking over three of the tables before coming to rest intently on the table to the far right, the one that was decorated with the silver and green tablecloth. Reinstated only the previous day as the Head of Slytherin House, (although they had all known there was no one else in the running if the truth be told), he was pleased to see that his snakes all appeared to be in high spirits. Halfway up the table, a small knot of returning eighth-year students were sat, cooly dominating their surroundings: Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass were the only three Slytherins to make the decision to complete their final year of education. It hadn't been compulsory to do so and, as he scanned the other tables, Severus realised that three wasn't such a poor result – only one Hufflepuff had returned (Macmillan), and two Gryffindors (Granger and Longbottom). Longbottom of all people. Severus felt his lip curling even though he had a certain grudging respect for the young man after his antics the previous year. Even so, the boy was a dunderhead if ever there was one and he thanked Merlin that he no longer had to teach him. He had felt a certain amount pride when, Minerva McGonagall, had informed him that she intended to make Draco Malfoy head boy, the first Slytherin head boy in eight years. She was willing to give the young wizard a chance, despite his involvement with the Dark Lord over the past year. The insufferable Granger had, of course, snapped up the head girl-ship and he had spent several happy moments since the decision had been announced three days ago smirking as he imagined the two of them trying to work together.

He had just taken another sip of the delicious elf-made wine when the doors of the hall flew open and tiny Professor Flitwick appeared, staggering under the weight of the Sorting Hat on its three-legged stool. Severus had no idea why the other wizard hadn't simply used his wand to levitate the object instead of tripping along blindly, unable to see over the top of the hat as the stool tangled around his tiny legs. Behind him a straggly crocodile of small first years in over-sized robes hurried along, each one seemingly trying not to lead the procession. They came to a halt in a line facing the staff table, with their backs to the rest of the school and the whole room held its breath for the Hat to begin its song.

Severus generally enjoyed the sorting – he particularly enjoyed watching the new Slytherins taking their seats amongst his snakes, wondering what they would bring to his house and knowing that he would soon know each one of them pretty personally. Severus knew that his 'head of house' method was very different to some of the other heads but it seemed to work for him. He knew that when Professor McGonagall had been head of Gryffindor, she had rarely visited her common room. He was different - in his opinion you had to be if you were going to be in charge of a group of Slytherin students. If you threw a bunch of cunning and ambitious people into a confined space together then you had to keep your cauldrons bubbling at full capacity and be completely on top of what was going on. Thus, he had a fortnightly meeting with every year group and he regularly popped into the common room in the evenings just to make sure that all was well.

Tonight though, it didn't seem as if he would even have a year group to mentor because in spite of the fact that there seemed to be more first years than normal (he supposed the group must include all those who hadn't made it to Hogwarts the previous year due to the war) none of them seemed to be ending up in his house. In fact, by the end of the sorting, he had precisely four new students, three boys; (Edward Nott, cousin to eighth year Theodore Nott, Oliver Mulberry, a small mousy-looking boy and Jack O'Connor, a handsome, dark-skinned boy who seemed to Severus, even from this distance, to be perpetually bored), and one girl, a tiny dark-haired creature, a girl called Sophia Winterchild.

SWSWSW

Slytherins look after their own. Sophie told herself this as she followed the tall blonde boy she'd met earlier at the train station out of the Great Hall, across the entrance hall and down into the dungeons. She was already second guessing herself, wondering what her aunt and uncle would have to say when they realised she'd been placed in Slytherin. She'd actually asked to be placed in Slytherin and the hat had granted her her wish after only a second or two's hesitation. Had she asked for the wrong house? She wouldn't see her aunt and uncle till the end of term but Rowan and Reuben would undoubtably have a thing or two to say to her too if they got her on her own. She'd already resolved to avoid them at all costs and now she would just have to be extra vigilant.

'Hurry up, Professor Snape is waiting.'

Sophie realised that she had fallen behind and hurried to catch up. Her knees trembled slightly and she felt slightly nauseous. She knew that she should probably have eaten a bit more at the feast but she hadn't been able to stomach more than a few mouthfuls of the rich food – she was too used to living off biscuits and the leftover scraps her aunt and uncle usually gave her. Hopefully, whatever happened now would be over quickly and she could go to bed.

The entrance to their common room was located behind a bare stretch of totally unremarkable stone wall, somewhere deep in the bowels of the castle. It looked identical to the miles of stone passageway they had already walked along. Sophie wondered how long it would take her to know their way around – the temperatures down here were icy and she could envisage herself catching hypothermia as she wandered around looking for the common room.

'The password is 'Reckoning'.' At the blonde boy's words, a crack appeared in the centre of the wall, which widened swiftly to allow them to walk through into the large room behind. Jostling and eager, the three first year boys pushed forwards and Sophie followed more slowly.

The Slytherin common room was divided into two parts – over by the far wall, there was a study area with tables and straight back chairs and closer to the entrance there was a large and ornately carved fireplace ringed around by black leather armchairs and sofas. Green tapestries decorated the walls and there was a green and silver patterned carpet on the floor. Over by the fireplace, stood a tall, sallow faced man with lank, shoulder length hair. The boys came to a halt in front of him and Sophie loitered behind them, taking the opportunity to lean on the arm of a nearby sofa.

'Welcome to Slytherin House,' the man spoke in a soft, slightly drawling tone. 'I am Professor Snape, your head of house and therefore your primary contact should you need any assistance during your time at Hogwarts. Slytherin House is now your family, you will eat at the Slytherin table at mealtimes and you will spend your free time here in the common room. Your dormitories are located on either side of this room, boys to the right and girls to the left.' Sophie glanced over towards the door on the left, hoping that the speech was nearly over. She saw that several older students had started to file quietly into the common room behind them, none of them were talking, indeed many seemed to be listening to Professor Snape themselves.

'As a student in my house, there are certain values that you must live up to,' the Professor was saying, and Sophie quickly looked back towards him, making an effort to listen. 'I expect you all to perform well in classes, that being said, I understand that not everybody is destined to be the next Minister for Magic, I do, however expect you to try and I will be following your progress. I will always find out if you are given detention, and I will be most aggrieved if a student of my house is caught playing silly pranks or…'

Was she mistaken, or had he just emphasised the word 'caught'? It didn't seem as if he minded the fact that they might play the prank in the first place, just that he expected a Slytherin to be resourceful enough not to get caught doing it. She, herself, had no intention of getting caught doing anything she shouldn't be – almost as soon as her aunt had informed her that she would be allowed to attend school (there had been some ambiguity about it for several weeks), Sophie had resolved to keep her head down and be as mediocre as possible so as not to be noticed.

A sharp pain in her ribs brought her back to herself. Sophie gasped and sidestepped away, glaring at the mousy-haired boy whose elbow had just dug into her side.

'What?' She tried to sneer but it was hard to catch her breath and her eyes were watering slightly from the pain.

'Professor Snape…' The boy hissed, nodding behind him.

'In the future, I expect you to listen when I am talking to you Winterchild.' Blinking hard to clear the film of tears, the Professor's face swam into view – he was staring at her with a cold, calculating expression. There was something about his blank, obsidian eyes that made Sophie feel slightly uncomfortable. She pulled herself upwards and glowered at him.

'Sorry sir!' Even as she spoke, she knew that she'd miscalculated the level of hostility and she bit her lip and locked her knees in place to stop herself backing away. Snape, however, simply raised an eyebrow and made no move to approach.

'Watch your tone, Winterchild, or you will be in detention before you've even been here twenty-four hours.' He turned away from her and she felt herself sagging into the sofa. 'I will see you tomorrow evening, to find out how your first day has been. Goodnight now.' With that, he turned on his heal and swept out of the room, his black robes billowing behind him. Immediately, it was as if someone had flicked a switch and the volume in the room suddenly increased tenfold as people began to talk to one another.

'I thought you'd done it then – if there's one thing Snape hates then it's rudeness.' Sophie turned to see a tall, pretty girl standing behind her. 'Follow me and I'll show you to your dormitory. I'm Daphne Greengrass, returning eighth-year.'

The dormitory turned out to be at the end of a long, windowless corridor, lit by torches every few paces.

'The first-year dormitories are always furthest down,' the older girl explained as they walked, although Sophie hadn't uttered a single question. 'I think it's so us older students don't bother you at night. Bathrooms are on this side – they're shared but there's an unspoken rule that you should really use the ones closest to your dormitory. Here, this one is yours…'

She pushed open the final door to reveal a small, perfectly circular room which had one four poster bed in the centre, hung with green fabric, a chest of drawers and a small wardrobe. Beside the bed there was a small set of shelves with a light on top. There was also a window but Sophie could see nothing except darkness through the glass. She shivered involuntarily and then scowled at her own weakness hoping that the other girl hadn't seen. Daphne flicked her wand and a pair of velvety curtains in a forest green colour slowly pulled themselves across the glass.

'We look out over the grounds from the dorms but the windows in the common room are under the lake,' Daphne explained, 'anyway, I can't believe that you get a room to yourself, normally it's five per dorm. I'm surprised that Snape didn't put you in with the second years…' A shriek suddenly cut across her words, followed by a loud thud and she shook her head. 'Then again, they're a wild bunch in there this year so maybe that's why. Goodnight. The morning bell will ring at seven thirty and breakfast is held from eight until five to nine. Lessons start at nine. I'll be going to breakfast as quarter past eight if you want me to show you the way.' She had turned on her heal and had swept out of the room before Sophie remembered to thank her.

Sophie's trunk had already been delivered and she was surprised to see that someone, a house-elf no doubt had hung up her robes in the wardrobe and arranged her books on the shelves. There was nothing left for her to do tonight. Painfully, she pulled off her robes, found her pajamas and sponge bag and, after a brief visit to the bathroom across the corridor, she fell into bed and pulled the covers up over her head. In the stifling dark, she couldn't help but suppress a small smile – she had escaped, they couldn't get to her here.

She woke, disorientated in the dark, her heart pounding, her breath coming in unsteady gasps as she tried to claw her way of the nightmare. It took her several seconds to calm herself down enough breathe more normally. The bed… horror gripped her as she realised what had happened and feelings of both disgust and shame started to overwhelm her as she pushed herself out of bed to stand trembling beside it. She reached out and clicked on the bedside light, blinking in the warm yellow glow. As she had already known and feared, the bed was soaked. For several seconds, she stared at it, her mind unable to comprehend what to do next. Then, snapping out of the trance, she grabbed her sponge bag again and a clean set of pajamas and hurried out of the room towards the bathroom.

She was on her way back to her dormitory when she heard her name.

'Winterchild?' Sophie wielded round, trying unsuccessfully to hide the damp bundle of clothing behind her back. She saw that the eighth-year girl was walking towards her, still fully dressed in her school robes. 'Is everything okay?'

'Yes, I'm fine,' Sophie tried to sneer, but the shock at seeing the other girl made her voice come out as a high-pitched squeak. She swallowed and tried again, pleased at the distain in her voice. 'Yes, I'm fine. What do you want, anyway?'

'I was just making sure everything was quiet before I went to bed. It's nearly two thirty in the morning, I thought you went to sleep ages ago. Are you sure you're okay?' A strange expression flitted across the girl's face and she took a step forward. Sophie retreated a few paces, until her back came up against the stone wall of the corridor, making her gasp.

'I'm…' She began again.

'It's okay,' the older girl said suddenly, walking forward purposefully, 'I understand. It happened to me once when I was in first year too. It's not a big deal.'

'I'm…' Sophie began but then felt herself deflate suddenly. 'I didn't mean to,' she said miserably, 'I don't know what happened.'

'Like I said, no big deal. Look, there's a linen store just up the corridor here. We'll take the sheets off and put them in the laundry for the house-elves to wash. Does that sound okay?'

'I can do it.' The thought of anyone else seeing the damp bed was more than Sophie could bear.

'Okay, the linen cupboard is here if you need it again.' Sophie nodded gratefully as the older girl grabbed some clean sheets out of a nearby cupboard and handed them to her. 'I'll see you in the morning, Winterchild.' This time, Sophie remembered to thank her before she was out of earshot.

SWSWSW

By the end of her fist term at Hogwarts, it had become apparent to Sophie that in spite of her decision to keep her head down and be as mediocre as possible so as not to draw attention to herself, she was having the opposite problem. In spite of her best efforts, she drew the Professors attention because she was just so rubbish at schoolwork, particularly in anything that required the use of a wand. It didn't seem to matter how much coaching the Professors gave her, how well she understood the theory or how hard she practiced in her free time, she just seemed to struggle to get her spells to work. In Charms, Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts, namely, the subjects that relied most heavily on wandwork, she was still stuck on the introductory spells, her classmates having long since surpassed her and moved on to more complex things. Luckily, her written work was of a high enough standard to stop her from failing these classes completely.

Lower school classes ended two days before the train was due to leave for the holidays. Instead of lessons, they were all expected to participate in some stupid interhouse team-building-moral-boosting shenanigans which consisted of some totally pointless games and tasks in teams of eight, with representation from each of the four houses. The two days were run by the sixth- and seventh-year prefects (Sophie thanked Merlin that the fifth-year prefects weren't involved), presided over by the head boy and girl. Sophie spent the whole of the first day slinking around behind her other team members and doing as little as possible to join in. Luckily, her team consisted of two boisterous Gryffindor third-year boys, three Ravenclaws (one third-year and two second-years) and two second-year Hufflepuffs and Sophie was able to quietly fade into the background. She was less successful on the second day when the exercises moved outside to the school grounds and they spent the day getting increasingly cold and wet doing team tasks in the snow like lighting fires the muggle way on the edge of the forbidden forest (what was the point?) and tobogganing down the steep castle lawn on homemade sledges made of spelled cardboard, (Sophie's collapsed immediately depositing her in a neck-deep snowdrift). Their final exercise was on the Quidditch pitch, something to do with flying through a series of obstacles and returning to their team as fast as possible. Sophie was still completely soaked through from her disastrous attempt at tobogganing and she wanted only to complete the task as quickly as possible so that she could get changed - she was sure that her robes had actually started to freeze on her. As a result, she had no idea that she had completed the course in record time until the prefect in charge and the head boy and girl, who was happened to be watching her team at that point, cheered and converged on her.

'It's Sophia Winterchild, isn't it? You're in my house.' She knew his name by this point - Draco Malfoy, the head boy and the girl with him, the head girl was a Gryffindor, Graham or something similar. She was smiling in a kindly way at Sophie but Sophie scowled at her, immediately distrusting her solely by the house she was in.

'Sophia Winterchild?' The head boy repeated and Sophie nodded, turning back to him. 'That was excellent. Have you been on a broom before?'

'Of course,' Sophie lied. He didn't need to know that her mother hadn't even owned a broom and once Sophie had gone to live with her aunt and uncle, they had banned her from even setting one toe inside their broom shed.

'How would you like to come along to the Slytherin Quidditch team practices next term?' He asked, eagerly, 'I've been looking for a someone to train as a reserve Seeker as I'll be leaving at the end of the school year. I think you'd be perfect.'

Sophie was so taken aback by his question that it actually took her a second to pull her usual sneer onto her face.

'No thank you.'

'Why not?' He looked so surprised that she actually felt a bad for hurting his feelings.

'Quidditch is a waste of time.' Sophie felt the smallest sense of regret as she watched him turn to the Graham girl and give a tiny shrug before they both walked off.

'You're mad,' one of the Gryffindor boys told her conversationally as they returned their brooms to the hawk-like flying teach, Madam Hooch. 'First years are never picked for teams, even reserve teams.'

Sophie scowled at him but he'd turned back to his friends before she could think of a suitably withering retort. Of course, he was probably right and it was madness to turn down such an offer but as reserve Seeker there would always be a chance that she would end up actually being the Seeker. That was not something that she was willing to risk.

SSSSSS

Severus stared, somewhat disparagingly, at the first-year boy in front of him, disliking his bored and aloof expression, the expression that seemed to be permanently etched onto his handsome face. Severus had decided almost immediately at the start of term that this child definitely needed taking down a peg or two. Unfortunately for Severus, the opportunity to do so had yet to arise.

'Well, I think that's everything for now, have a good Christmas, O'Connor. Send Winterchild in for me please.' O'Connor nodded, smirked, and quickly vacated the office, leaving the door open on the way out.

'Snape's ready for you.' He heard the boy say. Severus wondered idly if he should call him back to reprimand him – after all the students were supposed to refer to their teaches using the term 'Professor'. Immediately deciding that this was a battle he wasn't prepared to fight at the moment, Severus began rearranging the papers on his desk. He looked up as he heard a quiet knock on the open door.

'Come in.' The first-year girl slouched into the room, looking as if she would rather be anywhere else. 'Good afternoon, Winterchild. Have a seat.' He hadn't expected a response from this one and he wasn't disappointed – she simply glared suspiciously at him as if she was wondering what on earth he wanted with her. He waited for her to sit down opposite him before he continued.

'We have a meeting this morning to discuss how you've settled into Hogwarts.' He paused, waiting for her to say something but she continued to stare sullenly at him and he felt irritation stirring in the pit of his stomach. 'So, how do you think you've settled in?' It came out sounding shorter and snappier than he'd intended and he made a mental note to moderate his tone a little. 'Well?'

She shrugged, 'it's fine.'

'I have your preliminary results for your subjects here,' he began and he saw her shifting slightly in her chair as if she was suddenly slightly uncomfortable. 'What I'm failing to understand, Winterchild, is how there is such a marked difference between your written work, which is above average standard, and your wandwork which is frankly abysmal.' He looked up at her and saw an expression of combined hatred and fury flitting briefly across her face before she reigned back her features to the blank mask and stared stonily at him. Severus sighed to himself and looked back at the grade list.

'You've done well in History of Magic and Astronomy, the two subjects here that require no wandwork. Your Potions are also good but I have noticed in class that you do better on assignments where no spellwork is required. Herbology is the same by all accounts. Your

Transfiguration, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts classes are a disgrace, although each of your Professors has made a point to note that your written work is of a very good standard.' Severus suddenly realised that the child was now glaring at him and making no effort at all to mask the hostile expression.

'Do you know why this is Winterchild?'

'No!' She spat the word at him.

'You will address me either as Professor or sir, is that understood?' He snapped, suddenly irritated by her hostile tone.

'No sir.' The contempt in her tone was evident.

'Watch your tone or I will put you in detention. I will ask you again – is there any reason why your wandwork is so abysmal. You are clearly an able student.'

'I… I just don't see the point sir.' The sneer was evident but there was also a vulnerability there that had him biting his lip against his cold retort. He moderated his tone a little as he replied.

'Well I'm sorry to hear that, Winterchild. I suggest you start to see the point and swiftly or you will be put in remedial classes.'

'I just find wandwork difficult, it's not a big deal!'

'Of course it's a big deal, Winterchild. In the real world what do you think is more important, the theory behind the spell you are casting or completing the spell itself?' She blanched a little at this and he found himself thinking how small and fragile-looking she actually was. Her dark eyes were ringed with bruise-like shadows, emphasised by her pale skin. She looked like she hadn't been sleeping that well of late. First years certainly seemed to get smaller every year but this was one of the smallest he'd ever seen.

'Apart from your studies, how have you settled in to the school?'

'You already asked me that. It's fine.' Severus stifled another flicker of irritation which must've shown on his face because she added a hasty 'sir' on the end. He quickly occluded his mind so that she wouldn't see his rising annoyance.

'Yes, I know I have but I'm asking you again. You look unwell. Are you sleeping well?'

'Yes sir.' He could see the lie in her eyes but he let it go, for now.

'Have you made any friends?' He knew the answer to this one – he had feared that without the

'ready-made' friendship group of a dormitory of other girls, the young witch would struggle to make friends and this had certainly been the case. The girl was a loner and while that wasn't altogether unusual in a young Slytherin student, it wasn't something to aspire towards. 'Well?' He prompted, when it seemed as if she wasn't going to reply.

'Yes sir.' This time, he couldn't let the lie pass unremarked.

'Don't lie to me Winterchild!' She muttered something which he didn't quite catch but which sounded a lot like 'why ask if you already know?'

'What about clubs and societies? I believe that Mr Malfoy asked you to be part of the Slytherin Quidditch team yesterday, the reserve Seeker if I'm not much mistaken - quite an honour for a first year, but you turned him down.'

'Quidditch is a waste of time. I want to focus on my work.' This girl was definitely a loner and there was a part of him that felt a grudging respect towards her.

'Very well, Winterchild, but remember that socialisation is important too.'

'Whatever.' She shrank back a little as he looked at her with raised eyebrows.

'That's enough, I suggest you leave before you end up in detention.'

The girl did not need to be told twice and was up and out of the office before he could've said 'Felix Felices.'

Part 2 – Winter

SWSWSW

Sophie heard the door at the top of the basement steps creaking open and she struggled to open her eyes. Footsteps down the cold concrete steps. Her aunt's voice.

'Wake up!'

Still struggling to prise her eyelids apart, Sophie pushed her back against the wall behind her. The movement caused pain to shoot through her body and her eyes opened automatically.

There was light. For the first time in days, there was light. Too bright. Painful. She quickly closed her eyes again.

'Wake up girl!'

Squinting in the blaze of white light, Sophie forced herself into a sitting up position and looked up at her aunt.

'I'm… I'm awake.' She swallowed down the pain.

'Follow me.'

Sophie never turned down an opportunity to visit 'upstairs', no matter what inevitably happened up there. She struggled to her feet, hissing in pain at the movement. As she followed her aunt up the stairs, she tried to work out just how bad it was this time; her left wrist was sore and swollen, her back was still raw and her head ached as if something was pounding at it from the inside. All in all, she thought that she'd got off pretty lightly even if she felt as if she might faint at any moment.

'Get in. You have five minutes to get washed.' She was pushed into the small bathroom opposite the basement stairs.

She knew the drill by now but it was agonising to undress so quickly when she was so sore and stepping under the stream of steam water send a wave of torment through her back that nearly caused her to black out. After the first agonising sting, however, the water felt nice and soothing and she started to relax a little as she let it run down over her head and body. It felt good to wash away the stains of misery that clung to her after the past few days locked in the basement.

'That's enough, get out.'

Aunt Josephine was standing in the doorway, holding a large towel in one hand and a glass potion bottle in the other. Sophie recognised it immediately as the strengthening potion she was given when her aunt and uncle needed her to appear 'well' for a few hours. She wondered what the occasion was and then realised, with a small jolt, that it must be time to return to school after the winter break.

'Hurry up!' Sophie quickly did as she was told and got out of the shower. 'Dry yourself quickly, I haven't got all day.' Sophie gave herself a perfunctory once-over with the towel and then discarded it onto the closest towel rail. 'Drink this.' Sophie took the bottle but hesitated – her aunt frequently gave her things on the premise that they would 'make her feel better' but which usually just made her sick. 'Drink it!' Sophie did as she was told and immediately felt herself feeling less faint and nauseous.

She knew what was coming next and tried not to flinch as her aunt waved her wand over her, manhandling her round in a circle as she worked over her niece. 'As good as new.' Sophie glared at her and then glanced in the mirror behind her, seeing her own naked, perfect, reflection, an unblemished, pale cream. There was no sign of the scars, cuts and bruises that she normally decorated her back. The scars on her face were gone too, hidden beneath the powerful glamour charm her aunt was so very good at. She was perfect. It was just a pity that everything still hurt.

'I don't need to remind you to keep your mouth shut,' her aunt whispered threateningly. Sophie stared defiantly at her. 'Well?'

'Yes, Aunt Josephine.' The barely concealed rudeness was enough to earn her a quick slap across the left cheek.

The journey back to school passed in a blur of exhaustion and pain. This time, with fewer students travelling by train, Sophie was able to secure herself a compartment all to herself and she spent the entire journey stretched out lengthwise across one set of seats. She didn't feel particularly well rested and as soon as they were back at the castle, she skipped dinner, in favour of an early night. The following morning, she felt, if anything, even worse and dragged herself out of bed, arriving with seconds to spare for the first class of the new term (History of Magic). Professor Bleddington, had been new the previous term, the old ghostly Professor Binns having finally given up the post. He was supposed to be more interesting and a better teacher than his predecessor and normally, Sophie enjoyed his classes, but not today, especially when he kicked off by giving her a warning for returning to school without completing her holiday homework. Most teachers would have given her an immediate detention for such an infringement but Bleddington was a soft touch. Perhaps he was taken in by her look of wide-eyed innocence or perhaps he felt sorry for her (even the glamour couldn't hide how sick she looked this morning) because he merely gave her a verbal warning and requested that she hand it in before the end of the week. It was pathetic really how easy she could walk all over him. Sophie sighed and surreptitiously leaned her head on her hand. She doubted that Snape would be as easily won over.

At break, she spent a frantic twenty minutes scribbling down everything she could glean from her potions textbook about the brewing process and the effects of a forgetfulness potion. She knew she'd done a poor job; the result was barely coherent and less than half the length that Snape had specified when he'd set them the task. He would most likely throw it back in her face and demand that she write it again but at least she would have something to hand in and she might just avoid a detention if she was lucky. When the bell rang, she rolled up her essay and made her way down to the dungeons. She realised she felt slightly faint and tried to remember when she had last eaten – her aunt had given her some biscuits but she couldn't remember if it had been the day before yesterday or the day before that. She had a transfiguration essay to write at lunchtime but she knew that she was going to have to find time to bolt down some food too. She couldn't afford to faint and end up in the hospital wing, Merlin only knew what her aunt and uncle would say if that happened.

SSSSSS

Severus looked up as the first year Slytherin and Gryffindor students filed in to the dungeon. As was his usual, he looked particularly carefully for his first-year snakes. The boys Nott, Mulberry and O'Connor all came in together and sat at their usual bench at the front of the class. He nearly missed Winterchild's entrance altogether because she came in behind a group of Gryffindor girls. He barely caught a glimpse of her pale face as she scurried to her usual desk at the back of the room. As soon as she reached it, she ducked behind her cauldron so that all he could see was the top of her head.

'Settle down, settle down.' The simmering chatter died down instantly and silence filled the dungeon. 'Welcome back, I hope you've all had a good break.' Since returning to the post of Potions Master, Severus had been trying, with varying degrees of success, to be a little bit nicer to his students, a little bit fairer, a little bit more tolerant. Merlin only knew why he bothered but his heart wasn't entirely made of stone. It irritated him exponentially when the older years looked at him as if he'd grown another head when he asked them how their holidays had been or occasionally, very occasionally, gave points to houses other than Slytherin for good work. At least he didn't get that from the first years.

'Mulberry,' the boy snapped to attention, 'take this box around and collect everyone's holiday homework, please.' It did feel slightly against the grain to ask politely, but as a child, he had always been taught that good manners cost nothing. He flicked his wand at the blackboard and the notes from the top page of his papers immediately transposed itself onto the black surface in coloured chalk. 'Thank you.' The boy handed him the box of essays went back to his seat.

'You have all written me an essay on the correct brewing of the Forgetfulness potion. Today, we are going to attempt to brew it. As you are all familiar with the process, you will be working individually, although I will be moving around the room periodically and I will be available to help if you have any questions. Ingredients are in the usual place, you may begin.'

Severus quickly flicked through the box of essays to ensure that everyone has completed one, before starting his first circuit of the room, using his wand to light the first year's cauldrons as he went. One of the first year Gryffindor girls was talking animatedly to her friend about some mundane, trashy article in Witch Weekly, junior edition as she chopped up daisy roots with a silver knife. He felt his lip curling as he paused behind her desk.

'Langdon,' he felt a flash of amusement as she jumped horribly, 'whereas I do not expect you to work in silence, my class is not the appropriate place for you to discuss the content of your trashy magazine.' He bit back the words 'five points from Gryffindor', instead adding, 'the next time I catch you talking about anything other than your schoolwork will be five points from Gryffindor, is that understood?' Irritation bubbled through him as he continued towards the back of the class. Did students like that really deserve a second chance?

He broke up two further conversations, one about Quidditch and one slightly less mundane one about Kingsley Shacklebolt's (the Minister for Magic's) new legislation about werewolf rights, before he reached the back of the classroom where Sophia Winterchild sat by herself. Winterchild seemed to have made no effort at all to make a start on her potion – although the textbook was open on the correct page and she had placed her quills and parchment beside the cauldron, she had not fetched her ingredients from the cupboard and she had not put on the apron that all the students were expected to wear whilst brewing to protect their robes. Instead, she was slumped against the desk, her head balanced on her hand. Severus opened his mouth to say something cutting but then shut it again – even in the flickering torchlight, at this close distance he could see that the child looked drawn and ill. He stepped closer, and leaned down so as not to draw attention to their conversation.

'Are you feeling unwell, Winterchild?' The child jumped slightly and stared up at him. She was clearly aiming for her usual sneer but she was also looking at him as if he was three feet further away than he actually was.

'I'm… I'm fine… sir…' She squinted up at him, still using her hand to hold up her head.

'Forgive me for saying so but you don't look fine to me. People who are fine tend to be able to hold their own head up.' The child seemed to sit up a little straighter at this and she scowled at him, looking much more herself.

'I'm fine!' She said again, more forcefully.

'I dislike that word intently, Winterchild, so please refrain from using it in my presence.' Severus snapped, drawing his wand from his pocket, intending to perform a quick diagnostic charm. The child immediately recoiled, jumping to her feet and pushing her bench backwards with a loud grating noise that caused every other student in the room to turn towards them. 'Easy,' Severus hissed, reaching out to steady her as she swayed. He felt a flash of consternation as he saw her eyes lock on to the wand in his hand and shoved it out of sight up his sleeve. What did she think he was going to do with it?

'I'm just tired, I didn't sleep well last night.' The girl protested, her voice barely above a mutter. If she hadn't swayed again, Severus might have given her the benefit of the doubt – after all, the dark circles under her eyes corroborated her story. However, when he steadied her for a second time, he felt the tremors running though her fragile body. A second opinion from the school nurse wouldn't go amiss.

'You are going to the hospital wing, Winterchild.'

'But…'

'That was not a request,' he snapped, 'it was an order.' He quickly placed her textbook, parchment and quills back in her bag and handed it to her. 'Go now.'

'But.'

'Now!' His patience, admittedly short, was well and truly at an end. The girl gave him a fleeting look of pure hatred but did as she was told.

SWSWSW

Alone in the dungeon corridor, Sophie stopped walking and leaned against the rough stone wall under one of the many torch brackets so that she could think. Obviously, going to the hospital wing was out of the question because even if the matron took her word and believed her when she gave some story about not sleeping or needing a pepper-up potion, her aunt and uncle would almost certainly get wind about the visit. Her punishment would be swift and brutal. Sophie shuddered just at the thought of it, turned right instead of left and made her way back to the Slytherin common room instead.

Staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, closest to the common room (one of those usually reserved for sixth- and seventh-year students), Sophie had to concede that Snape had a point – she looked awful. In spite of her aunt's latest glamour charm, her face was the colour of wet parchment, her cheeks were hollow, and there were huge bruise-like shadows around her eyes. She couldn't mend her injuries, Merlin, she couldn't even see her injuries but somehow, she had to make herself appear well and she had to do it quickly. Snape had to see her before he went to the hospital wing to check up on her. Sophie glanced around the bathroom with rising desperation, searching for inspiration. She grabbed a discarded makeup bag and upturned its contents over the sink, thinking that she could use a little powder or something to give her some colour. The last thing to fall out of the bag was a small bottle labelled Fresh Face Potion.

Do you want to hide your blemishes? Or conceal your sleepless night? Perhaps you want to add a little colour to your cheeks? With five drops of this potion, you can be fresh of face on any occasion.

Sophie shoved the other bits of makeup back into the bag, pocketed the small bottle and fled out of the bathroom and down the corridor. When she reached her own dormitory, she carefully shook five drops of the potion into the glass of water beside her bed. Then she downed the contents of the glass, ignoring its stagnant taste from standing still for several hours. When she looked in the mirror, she marvelled at the effect. She still felt as though she'd been trampled by a herd of Hippogriffs and although the potion hadn't made her look in peak health, at least she now looked passable.

Sophie's next stop was the second-year dormitory next door – the previous evening, they had kept her up half the night having a welcome-back-to-school party. One of them had even offered her a cupcake when she'd spied her through the open door on the way to the bathroom before she'd settled down to sleep. She was pleased to see that although the house-elves had cleared away the crumbs and other detritus, they had left the left-over food in two boxes on the windowsill. Quickly, Sophie crossed the room, prised the lid off the nearest box and grabbed a cupcake and two homemade biscuits. If she was going back to face Snape, then she needed some instant sugar or she might have another funny turn.

She actually thought that she'd got away with it, that is until the following morning when she was eating porridge at the Slytherin table and heard the familiar slightly snide baritone voice from behind her.

'Good morning Winterchild.' Sophie jumped horribly, dropping her spoon back into her bowl and splashing her front with milk. Dread and annoyance thrilled through her as she swung round to see Snape standing behind her. She could tell from his expression what was coming. How had he even found out that she had disobeyed him? After all, she'd made sure to go back to potions class at the end of the lesson so that he could actively see her looking better. They had even talked, albeit briefly where Sophie had been vague and had mumbled something about a potion. It hadn't even been a lie because she had taken a potion. He didn't need to know where the potion in question had come from.

'I'm pleased to see you looking so much better this morning,' he continued snidely. Sophie realised suddenly that he might be head of her house but she actively disliked this man with a passion. She glowered at him and saw a flash of irritation crossing his face before he schooled his expression back into its usual blank mask. 'However, the next time I send you to the hospital wing I expect you to go Winterchild.'

'I did…'

'Don't lie to me!' Sophie could tell that he was furious with her. She flinched backwards and saw a flash of consternation flicker briefly across Snape's features. He seemed to check himself before he continued. 'You are looking much better this morning or I would be dragging you to the hospital wing myself. However, I have no wish to waste Madam Pomfrey's time.' Relief flooded through her at his words and she tried not to let it show on her face – thank Merlin for the latest dose of stolen Fresh Face that she had taken that morning. She might still feel awful but at least she looked presentable. There was a slight pause, perhaps he was waiting for her to apologise or something but she had no intention of doing so.

'Detention and ten points from Slytherin, tonight seven o'clock my office.' With that, Snape turned on his heal and swept away, looking very like an overgrown bat in his long, black robes.

'Nice one idiot.' O'Connor said grumpily, jogging her arm as she picked up her spoon so that the porridge flicked into her face.

'Shove off.' Sophie meant to say something worse to him but the relief that Snape hadn't forced her to the hospital wing was still making her feel slightly weak. She couldn't really be bothered with the fight.

SSSSSS

At exactly seven o'clock that evening, the tentative knock sounded on Severus's office door.

'Come in.' The girl scowled at him and stalked into the office. Severus was pleased to see that she looked better. Without wating to be asked, she slid into the chair behind the small desk he'd set up opposite his own. Severus swallowed down his annoyance. 'Tonight, you will be rebinding old model potion essays.' The girl nodded sullenly without looking up at him. 'You will cut away the old rotten binding and then bind them in new leather. You will not use magic.'

'Yes, Professor Snape,' the girl almost spit out. Ignoring her tone, Severus waved his wand and a large pile of old leather-bound essays appeared out of thin air a few inches above the desk with a loud popping noise. The girl jerked backwards in alarm and then jumped again as they hit the desk in front of her. For half a heartbeat she looked terrified, then her features resumed their usual scowl. Severus wondered why she was always so jumpy. There was something strange going on with this child and he meant to get to the bottom of it.

'You may begin.'

It was less than twenty minutes later when he realised that the noises of ripping and cutting had stopped. Severus looked up from his marking and saw that the girl was staring at her hands. He was mildly concerned to see that they were trembling slightly.

'Is everything okay, Winterchild?' The girl's eyes flicked up and she nodded half-heartedly. Then she shook her head. 'Which is it?' He asked shortly.

'Please could I use the toilet Professor?' The girl asked abruptly.

'You've been here all of twenty minutes, did you not think to go before you came?' Severus asked sarcastically; he knew a ploy to get out of detention when he saw one. The young Slytherin must think that he was born yesterday. A faint flush started creeping across the girl's pale cheeks as she shook her head.

'Believe it or not, Winterchild I have taught in this school for many years. I know what game you're playing. You can wait till the end of the hour.' He felt rather pleased with himself when she simply shrugged and nodded and continued on with her work – he had clearly been right all along and she simply wanted to get out of detention. At any rate, if she needed to go that badly then she would surely ask again.

It was close to half an hour later when he heard the girl sigh quietly. He looked up from his marking and saw that she was staring fixatedly at one of the potions essays, her face strange in the flickering torchlight.

'Winterchild?' When there was no response, Severus got up swiftly and walked round his desk. As he approached her table, he read the title of the essay she was drawn to and felt a himself shiver.

A study into the use of witch-hazel, thyme and lavender in a sanitation potion by Merula Winterchild.

The girl's mother; he'd somehow allowed himself to forget that she'd been an excellent potioneer before she died. Merula Winterchild had been a very talented witch and had even brewed for the Dark Lord when Severus had been otherwise occupied. He wondered how the girl in front of him could be quite such a dunce and resolved to keep a closer eye on her in the future.

'Winterchild?' He asked again, coming to stand beside her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

The girl jumped horribly and jerked herself sideways off the chair, pressing herself against the bookcase behind her. As he watched, she gave a gasp and looked down at herself in horror and disbelief as her legs dampened and a puddle formed on the floor around her feet.

'Winterchild!' Severus bellowed, adding, 'have you no control?' Before he could stop himself, more out of shock than anger. The girl flinched away from him, into the bookshelf.

'I'm sorry sir! I'll clear it up! Please don't…' She crouched down, shielding her head and Severus realised, somewhat belatedly, that she was terrified. Severus had seen damaged children before as they were common amongst the children of Death Eaters, the children that frequently ended up in his house. A wave of self-loathing rose up inside him and he quickly pushed it backwards, occluding his mind so that his feelings wouldn't overwhelm him.

'It's okay, Winterchild.' He tried to make his voice low and soothing. He stepped backwards and sheathed his wand, watching the girl with concern as she straightened slowly and got to her feet. Visibly trembling, she stood on one foot, staring at the floor, shame reddening her cheeks.

'Go through to the bathroom,' he told her, making his tone as gentle as possible and nodding to the door in the bookcase behind his desk. 'I'll get a house elf to bring you a change of clothes.' As the girl scurried past him to the bathroom, Severus thought he heard a muffled sob as the door slammed between them but perhaps it was just the wind of the slamming door.

Severus allowed himself a brief moment of regret; this, after all, was entirely his fault – he was not an unfeeling ogre in spite of the impression that he gave to his students and he knew that he would not have denied the child her need if she had made him aware that she really had to go. Sighing, he pointed his wand at the mess on the floor to clean it up. It was too late now to cry over spilt potion.

SWSWSW

Alone in Professor Snape's toilet, Sophie cried for precisely ten seconds before she finally managed to get control of herself, horrified by the tears. Tears were absolutely not tolerated and Sophie very very rarely lost control of herself and broke this rule. She forced herself to take several deep, calming breaths. She wasn't particularly successful; anger and humiliation were still bubbling up inside her like boiling lava but at least the tears ran dry. She inhaled sharply as a pile of freshly laundered robes appeared out of thin air beside the door. Trying not to think about what she was doing, she quickly pulled off her soggy tights and underwear and her skirt and pulled on the clean ones. Then, balling up the damp clothes as small as she could, she pushed open the door and walked back out into the Potion Master's office, intending to walk out the door.

'Just where do you think you're going Winterchild?' The smooth tones of Professor Snape cut across the office. Sophie stopped in her tracks but didn't turn round to answer him; she could feel herself starting to lose control and it was taking every ounce of control, not to mention self-preservation that she had to keep her anger under wraps. 'I asked where do you think you're going?' The man asked again, getting up and approaching her. Sophie felt herself tensing and locked her knees in place to stop herself from shying away. 'Answer me girl!' Sophie jerked away in spite of herself and looked up at the man. She couldn't keep the sneer off her face.

'Nowhere Professor,' she spit out, glaring at him.

'I'm glad to hear it,' he said, his voice softer again. 'Let me take those.' He gestured to the pile of wet clothing in her hand. Sophie shook her head stubbornly.

'It's fine Professor.' Snape raised his eyebrows and unsheathed his wand. He pointed it at Sophie, who barely had time to react as the wet clothes in her hand disappeared into thin air. Snape raised his eyebrows at her but made no comment as she flinched away instinctively from the drawn wand before resettling the sneer on her face again. He stared at her in silence for a few seconds, his face blank and completely expressionless. The tension mounted.

'If that's everything, can I leave?' Sophie burst out, suddenly unable to bear it any longer.

'I would like to talk to you before you leave.' The Potions Master replied calmly.

'But maybe I don't want to talk to you Professor, have you thought about that?' The words escaped before she could prevent them and she took a step back, pressing her hand to her mouth and expecting immediate retribution.

'Watch your tone, Winterchild.' Snape snapped. He looked at her carefully, clearly wondering how far he could push her. 'I want to know why didn't you ask me to use the toilet if you were in such urgent need?' He asked, softening his voice again.

How dare he? Sophie balled her hands into fists and dropped her eyes to the floor, willing herself to remain in control. She took several deep breaths, trying to suppress the rising anger inside.

'Well?'

'I did,' Sophie hissed, looking up. His expressionless face seemed to elevate her anger. 'I asked and you said no. YOU SAID NO!' The anger inside her boiled over and she was suddenly shouting at him, even as another part of her mind screamed at her to stop before he retaliated. 'YOU BASTARD! YOU COMPLETE…!'

'Excuse me?' Snape asked, his voice low and dangerous. His expression was angry but there was also a hint of concern that Sophie couldn't stand.

'You heard me! You wanted this to happen! You'

'That's enough Winterchild!' His voice was low but there was a power to it that stopped Sophie in her tracks. Snape seemed to take a deep breath and the blank expression returned to his face. 'I can assure you that I did not wish for this to happen. I can promise you that had you made it clear to me that your need was urgent then I would not have denied you the right to use the toilet.' He held up his hand as he saw that she was about to interrupt him again. 'I apologise for not believing you earlier and assuming that you were simply trying to get out of detention.' There was a long silence, during which he clearly expected her to say something but Sophie was still too angry to respond.

'Now, if you do not wish to be in detention for the rest of the week, then you will apologise for shouting at me. I do not tolerate foul language.'

Sophie could not just turn off her anger in this way. She struggled with herself for a few seconds before finally forcing out a hissed apology. Snape's eyebrows rose into his hairline but he didn't challenge her, instead he appeared to be watching her very carefully. Finally, after almost a minute, he sighed and gestured to his door. 'Very well, Winterchild, you may leave, we will talk again when you are calmer.' Sophie did not need to be told twice.

SWSWSW

It took nearly a week for the letter to arrive. It was the first piece of post that Sophie had received and, when the tawny owl dropped it neatly onto her toast the following Monday morning, she was surprised and alarmed to see Aunt Josephine's neat handwriting on the parchment envelope. It was pathetic really how a simple envelope could set her heart beating in such a frenzy that she could barely draw in breath. Trembling from head to foot, she unstuck the envelope from the jammy toast, picked up her bag and fled the hall. Whether or not it was true, she thought she felt the black eyes of Professor Snape following her as she went.

To an outsider, the letter would not have seemed to be that bad. Her aunt merely mentioned how disappointed she and Sophie's uncle had been to hear about Sophie's detention and how, they would be having a discussion about it over the Easter holidays. To Sophie it was full of thinly veiled threats and the promise of more pain. By the time she had finished reading the short paragraph, her breathing had become erratic and her hands were shaking so violently that she could barely screw it up into a ball and shove it into the depths of her schoolbag. Then she dropped into a crouch, shoving her head into her hands and tried to get her breathing under control.

'Winterchild?' It was the head boy again; she recognised his voice before she even looked up. 'Is everything okay?' Tall, blonde and charismatic, he was standing over her, looking concerned at her behaviour. Sophie straightened up, feeling her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She tried to shrug nonchalantly but she knew she'd failed when he raised his eyebrows at her. 'Don't try to pretend to me that you aren't having a panic attack.' He was far too shrewd for her liking. 'Just breathe, Winterchild. It will pass.'

It did pass eventually. As soon as she got her breathing under control, Sophie peeked up at the eighth year, feeling even more stupid that before.

'I'm sorry.' It wasn't like her to apologise for anything but he was still standing there, seemingly waiting for her to say something.

'Nothing to apologise for, Winterchild. I get them too sometimes. What caused it, anyway?' Sophie tried to think of a good excuse, failed, and settled for telling him the truth, that is, a severely airbrushed version of the truth.

'My… my aunt and uncle found out about my detention,' she faked a huge sigh and pretended to wipe her eyes, hoping he would think she was fighting tears. 'I've never had detention before. They're really disappointed in me!' She wasn't quite sure that she had nailed the pathetic-little-schoolgirl act but she tried to make it as convincing as possible. Draco Malfoy raised his eyebrows at her and smirked.

'Don't worry about it too much – it's only because it's your first one. Mine reacted the same way in my first year too. By the time I was in my second year, they stopped caring so much. Yours will be the same.' Sophie nodded and shrugged. She just wanted him to leave her alone now. 'I'd better go, or I'll miss breakfast. I'll see you around.' They had both turned away when she heard him calling to her down the corridor.

'By the way, Winterchild, did you rethink about the Slytherin Quidditch team?'

'No thank you.' At least this time he seemed to have been expecting it and he didn't look too disappointed as he turned back up the corridor.

Part Three – Spring

SWSWSW

The rising bell shrilled through Slytherin house and Sophie prised her eyelids open, whimpering under her breath as wakefulness brought back the pain that sleep had somehow managed to mask for a few hours. Gritting her teeth, she rolled herself into a sitting-up position and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was still exhausted – she'd been thrown into violent wakefulness at three o'clock in the morning after a vivid nightmare. Unsurprisingly, her bed and nightclothes had been soaked through and the subsequent trip to the linen cupboard and the stripping and reapplying sheets to the bed seemed to take her twice as long as usual in her fragile state. When she finally got back into bed, it had taken her a very very long time to sleep again, even after the residual fear of the nightmare had finally faded away because by then she'd been wide awake and the pain in her back had been enough to keep her from dropping off again. Daylight had begun snaking its way in around the corners of the curtains when tiredness finally won out against the pain and she finally fell into a fitful sleep and it had felt like only seconds later when the bell chimed its rising song through the sleeping quarters.

Sophie knew that she had two essays to tackle before morning classes began – a foot long essay on The Werewolf Code of Conduct for Professor Bleddington and a sixteen-inch essay on antidotes for Snape. She'd hoped to start them the previous evening, but when she'd arrived after the long train journey, it had been all she could do to undress and get under the covers. This morning proved to be the same, if not worse, and she found that it took her most of the next ninety minutes just to get up and pull on her school uniform. Her professors were going to murder her. No, scratch that, Sophie thought as she limped slowly down the corridor towards the History of Magic classroom, desperately pushing her exhausted limbs to a faster speed so that she wouldn't be late, her aunt was going to murder her when she heard that her niece had been given a month's worth of detentions. Sophie shuddered at the thought. It wouldn't matter to her aunt that the detentions had been given because Sophie hadn't done her homework, hadn't been able to do her homework as she had spent most of the three-week break locked in the pitch dark of the basement. The brief periods of time she'd spent upstairs with her aunt, uncle and her cousins had been even worse than the endless monotony of the pitch-black room. Sophie shuddered again as she remembered and tried to push the memories to the back of her mind. It was almost impossible when every movement sent a wave upon wave of pain ricochetting through her body and reminding her of what had happened.

Professor Bleddington was standing at the entrance to his classroom, a box in hand and as the first years filed in past him, each placed his or her holiday essay into it. Sophie had already known that, nice as he was, Bleddington was not such a soft touch that he would accept the same infringement twice in a single school year. She stared at him as he took in her essay-less state, trying to put some defiance into her expression, which wasn't easy considering that she felt as if she might pass out at any second. To her utmost surprise, he sighed and nodded her through the door and into the classroom without a word. The wave of confusion and relief was enough to set her already-woozy head spinning even more as she slunk to her usual seat at the back of the class and slumped down on the chair with her head in her hands. Sophie spent the rest of the lesson trying to keep herself from blacking out, completely missing the sound of the bell at the end of the lesson and only realising that the class was over when everyone else pushed back their chairs and stood up.

'Winterchild, a word if you please?' Bleddington called as Sophie got to painfully to her feet, her stomach swooping sickeningly. So he was going to punish her. She wasn't really surprised. Feeling her already low spirits sinking even further, Sophie, made her way slowly to the front of the class, trying not to limp too obviously. She wasn't sure if her uncle had broken her ankle this time or merely bruised it but it felt like someone was branding her with a white-hot poker whenever she tried to put her full weight on it.

As soon as the door had swung shut behind O'Connor, the final student to exit the room, the Professor turned to her.

'Why didn't you complete your holiday assignment again?' Sophie attempted a nonchalant shrug and then grabbed hold of a nearby desk to steady herself as the movement sent a wave of pain through her back that nearly caused her to black out. 'Are you feeling alright, Winterchild?' The Professor asked, looking concerned as she swayed slightly. He took a step forward, his arm outstretched toward her. Sophie hitched a sneer onto her face and nodded shortly at him.

'I'm fine,' she was pleased that her voice sounded convincing at the very least.

'Are you sure? You seem unwell.' She could tell that he didn't believe her.

'I'm fine, sir. I just got up too fast is all,' he was clearly sceptical – his raised eyebrows told her that he was still unconvinced. 'And I didn't sleep well, last night,' Sophie added. 'The dorm next door was having a party.' He nodded at that, although she could see that he was only half appeased by her argument.

'Then, I'll ask you again, why didn't you complete your holiday assignment? This really is unacceptable. One infringement may be overlooked but two…' He trailed off meaningfully, obviously expecting her to fill in the pause. Sophie stared at him for a few seconds – she had two options it seemed. The first, to pretend that the essay had been too hard for her (he would catch her in the lie immediately as this was actually one of the only subjects that she was actually quite good at). The second option wasn't appealing, but she realised that she had no choice.

'I just didn't have time, sir.' The Professor's eyes bugged out slightly.

'Well, I'm sorry to hear that Winterchild. Every other student in the class managed to find two hours to complete the task over the Easter break.' Sophie could tell that he was getting annoyed now. Perhaps that was better – if he was annoyed, then he couldn't be concerned over her pitiful condition. She bit her lip and then said the words that would surely piss him off so much that he would forget that he'd ever been concerned about her.

'I just don't see the point in homework,' she managed a full-fledged sneer which lent the desired effect to her damming words. 'What's the bloody point of a holiday if we have to do work all the time?'

'Detention.' The word was clipped, short and to the point and it was exactly the response that Sophie had been anticipating. 'Next Saturday afternoon. I expect a completed essay to be handed to me or it will be double detention. Do you understand?' Sophie was so relieved that he'd scheduled the detention for a Saturday, thus freeing up her evenings for her to get her assignments done, and on top of that given her five days to complete the homework that she actually smiled at him. He must have misread her expression as a smirk because she saw his eyes bug out slightly.

'Watch your attitude, Winterchild,' he told her shortly, 'or I shall be speaking to your head of house.' He turned back to his desk. 'You may go.' Sophie did not need to be told twice.

SSSSSS

Severus opened the dungeon door, his eyes scanning the assembled first-years, gathered in the corridor.

'In, quickly now.'

Somehow, perhaps he had known what was coming, because instead of going back to his desk as was his usual fashion, he remained standing beside the open door as the students filed in past him. His shrewd eyes immediately noted Winterchild's pale face and her slightly-hunched posture as she trailed in, the last first-year to enter. She looked awful. Her eyes huge and dark and nearly lost in the deep ring of shadows that surrounded them. Perhaps the contrast was even more accentuated by the colour skin but she certainly looked ill, very ill. Severus quickly occluded his mind so that his expression wouldn't give away the surprise and concern he felt rising up inside him. He was tempted to stop her then and there but instead he let her pass and watched her as she walked falteringly to the back of the room where she flopped into her usual seat. This girl was a quandary if ever there was one and he meant to get to the bottom of it.

'Today is a theoretical lesson,' he informed the class, once they had all sat down and removed their quills and parchment from their school bags. There was a mild groan of disappointment and in spite of his preoccupation, Severus smirked. 'You should all be familiar on the chapter on antidotes after completing your holiday assignment. Today we are having a quiz to see how well you remember.' Another faint groan rang through the dungeon. 'There are five house points on offer to the person who gets the most correct answers.' That seemed to get their attention at the very least and he heard a few appreciative murmurs. 'I also expect everyone to come up with a question for the rest of the class. I will also be setting questions. You have ten minutes if you would like to recap any content and plan your questions while I collect in your assignments. Use it wisely.'

Severus began moving around the classroom, under the premise of collecting the essays but actually moving toward the back of the dungeon so that he could take a closer look at Winterchild. He felt his concern for her wellbeing doubling when he realised that she'd put her head on the desk and had made no effort to even remove her things from her school bag. She looked like she was on the verge of passing out. After checking that all of the other students were occupied, he came to stand behind her and leaned down so that he could talk unobtrusively to her.

'Winterchild?' She looked up slowly, her face the colour of wet parchment, seemed to realise who he was, and then flinched away from him. Even though she was clearly feeling ill, he saw a spasm of hatred crossing her features as she met his gaze. 'Are you feeling unwell?' Merlin, what a stupid thing to say, Severus chided himself internally as soon as it was out of his mouth. Of course she was feeling unwell and now he'd given her the opportunity to deny everything.

'I'm…'

'You are not fine,' Severus interrupted, 'what is the matter?'

Another spasm of hatred flickered across her face and her features slowly morphed into the familiar scowl. She seemed to struggle to pull herself a little more upright but the movement caused her loose her balance and he was forced to put out a hand to steady her or she would've pitched face first off the chair. Using her hands to brace herself against the table, the child blinked up at him, looking as if she was struggling to stay conscious. Then she sagged a little in her chair and he saw the fight go out of her.

'I just feel… a bit sick… I've… I've had a bug.' Was she lying to him? For once, Severus couldn't tell but at any rate the outcome of this could only be one thing.

'We're going to the hospital wing,' he informed her cooly, and he held up a finger as she attempted to interrupt him. 'No arguments. Get up now.' He watched her carefully and then reached out to place an arm around her waist to steady her because she swayed so badly that he was afraid that she was about to collapse to the stone floor. He raised his voice.

'I'm taking Winterchild to the hospital wing. If anybody moves from their seats in my absence, I will take fifty points from whichever house has the misfortune to be theirs. Is that understood?' Severus vaguely remembered that he was trying to be nicer to his students now but then disregarded the thought in the same breath. 'Come on Miss Winterchild.' Without waiting for her to respond, he half carried her out of the room.

SWSWSW

It wasn't as though Snape was trying to hurt her deliberately because the Potions Master had no idea that the way he'd wrapped his arm behind her back was pressing on some of her most painful injuries. Even so, Sophie spent the majority of their journey to the hospital wing trying to stop herself from whimpering out loud or blacking out. Both would just feed fuel to Snape's fire when she needed to do the opposite and persuade him and the school matron that there was nothing wrong with her. In addition to the pain, there was also a single thought running round and round her head, as if on a loop - how in the name of Merlin am I going to get out of this? It wasn't until they had walked in through the large double doors of the hospital wing and Snape had helped her onto a cot and disappeared into the matron's office that a second thought followed the first - they are going to kill me when they find out.

Sophie's head was spinning so horribly that she shut her eyes and leaned back against the soft pillow, trying to order her thoughts. Then, hearing the sound of two pairs of approaching footsteps, she quickly prised her eyelids apart again. She'd never seen the school matron up close before and blinking up at her, Sophie did not like what she saw – Madam Pomfrey was elderly, grey-haired and extremely strict-looking. She didn't look like she would take any nonsense and she didn't look like she would be easily won over. Sophie pushed herself carefully up the bed until she was in a sitting-up position and looked warily at the two adults, her mind still doing overtime as she tried to think up a good excuse.

'How are you doing, Miss Winterchild, Professor Snape said you were taken ill during his class?' Sophie glowered at Snape who smirked back at her.

'I need to get back to the first years. I hope you feel better soon, Winterchild.' The Potions Master turned on his heal, missing the glare that Sophie sent his way, and walked smoothly out of the room, his black robes floating behind him and giving the impression that he was actually gliding.

'Well?' Sophie turned her attention back to the matron. She was looking expectantly at the young witch on the bed, her wand drawn. Sophie flinched but realised that she couldn't give the other witch time to cast a diagnostic spell – her injuries might not be visible under her aunt's latest glamour but they were still very much there. She shrugged, trying to look nonchalant.

'I'm sorry Professor, I promised my Aunty Josephine that I would come to you as soon as I got back from the holiday but…' she hung her head and looked down at her lap, trying to look sheepish. She realised that her hands were trembling slightly and quickly hid them in the lap of her robes before the matron could see.

'But?' The matron probed. She hadn't put the wand away but Sophie could see that she was intrigued.

'But I was feeling loads better and I didn't want to miss the party in the common room last night.' There actually had been a party in the common room last night, although Sophie had stayed in her dormitory. The school nurse didn't need to know that though.

'I was on my broomstick in the rain last week.' Sophie lied, the story was coming easier now and she was starting to feel more in control again. 'I didn't come in when my Aunty told me too and I caught a chill. I was supposed to keep taking Pepper Up Pro but I don't like the taste so I just pretended to take it.' Sophie wondered if the little-girl-act was a little bit too sugary sweet and threw in a scowl. 'It tastes like burnt socks! My aunt didn't notice that I was pouring it down the sink.'

'Well, that was very very ill-advised of you, Winterchild,' the matron snapped, sheathing her wand and looking sternly down at the young witch. 'You should always finish a course of prescribed potions or you might end up with lasting damage.'

'I'm sorry, Professor,' Sophie said meekly, hanging her head in a show of contrition that seemed to appease the matron.

'So you should be! And I'm not a Professor, I'm the school matron.'

'Yes… ma'am.'

'I hope you've learned your lesson, child!' Sophie nodded humbly and stared hard at the bed clothes without blinking until her eyes started to water. She hoped that it would look like she was fighting tears. Muttering under her breath about incompetent children, the matron vanished briefly into her office, reappearing a minute later, levitating several potions on a tray in front of her.

'Now Winterchild. I don't care if these potions taste like a giant's armpit you are going to drink them down without argument.' Sophie nodded, quickly taking the potion bottles and downing them one after the other. She recognised the taste of the strengthening solution in one bottle, and felt relieved before it even began to work it's magic because it would definitely help her to feel better. Less than ten seconds later, the room came into sharper focus and she found that she could sit up straighter.

'I'm going to give you a top up course of potions,' the matron informed her. 'Pepper Up Pro which you are going to drink without argument, strengthening solution and finally this iron enhancing potion as you seem a little anaemic.' Sophie nodded again to show that she had understood the instructions. 'How are you feeling now?' The matron had withdrawn her wand again and Sophie felt a spike of fear and adrenaline at the thought that she might yet use it to perform a diagnostic spell. She quickly threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, locking her knees in place in case she swayed. She gave the matron a huge, fake smile.

'I'm feeling loads better, can I go back to class please?' She just had to get out of this room. Her heart sank a little as the matron shook her head.

'I'm glad to hear it but there's not much point in going back to class.' At that precise moment, the school bell shrilled through the corridor outside the hospital wing. 'Go straight to lunch. That's an order Winterchild – those potions work best on a full stomach.'

'Yes Professor, I mean ma'am.' As quickly as she was able, Sophie walked out of the hospital wing. As the double doors swung shut behind her, a wave of relief swept through her, so powerful that she felt her knees wobble slightly and had to steady herself against the wall. She'd done it, she'd managed to convince the matron that everything was fine. Surely even her aunt and uncle would be please with that? Sophie gave a tiny, relieved smile, before making her way to the Great Hall for lunch.

SSSSSS

When Severus entered the Great Hall for lunch via the staff courtyard, he automatically scanned over the Slytherin table, as was his usual custom and was immediately surprised to see Sophia Winterchild sitting about half way down the long table. It was hard to tell from this distance but he thought that there was slightly more colour in her cheeks and she was sitting up straighter but it was still rather a shock to see her out of the hospital wing already. Madam Pomfrey really was a wonderful medi-witch. Severus helped himself to a large piece of quiche, a mound of boiled potatoes and some salad and started his meal.

Since returning at the start of the year, Severus was trying to make more effort to speak to his fellow Professors at mealtimes and during their downtime in the staffroom and he immediately engaged Filius Flitwick, who was sat on his right, in a conversation about the new duelling club that Malfoy and Granger had set up at the end of the previous term. Severus and Filius had been asked to provide a demonstration that night and they were both keen to put on a good show for the students, even if that meant 'faking' it a little and planning a few of the spells in advance. Even so, Severus found that he was only paying half his attention to half and there was a part still fixed on the Slytherin table. He watched as Winterchild picked at her quiche and salad, then pushed her plate away from her, leaving her half-eaten meal, swung her legs over the bench, stood up a little shakily and walked slowly out of the hall. Had the matron really deemed her fit and ready to return to lessons? Severus decided to make a detour via the hospital wing on his way to afternoon class to double check.

In spite of Madam Pomfrey's assurances, that afternoon, Severus still felt uneasy. He was sure that there was something going on with the tiny first year Slytherin and he determined to keep an eye on her for the rest of the term. First years always looked small and vulnerable. She might also be homesick, he reasoned, as he mulled it over that night in his own quarters with a glass of fire-whisky. At any rate, he was sure that by the following year she would certainly have found her feet. Perhaps he would authorise the new first year Slytherin girls to join her in her dormitory – at least that way she might make some friends. She might also hate it. Severus thought about how he himself would've felt sharing a dormitory with a group of younger students after having one to himself for a year (a luxury, incidentally, that he had never had). He decided to think about it before making any final decisions.

Nevertheless, he watched the girl with particular interest as the term unfolded, not that he learned much from his endeavours. She was a particularly boring first year it seemed, spending all of her free time alone in the library even when the weather was nice and the rest of the school was outside enjoying the castle grounds. She still made no effort to socialise with any of her year group outside of class. When he casually questioned her other professors, he heard back what he already knew from his own classroom interactions with the girl - Winterchild was quiet and unobtrusive in class, never putting her hand up or volunteering information. If she was asked a question, she would answer politely but with an air of sullen hostility that was hard to ignore and she'd been given warnings for her tone of voice from more than one of his colleagues. Severus got the impression that none of his fellow Professors were particularly fond of the girl and, if the truth be told, he couldn't really find it in himself to blame them. The child was simply unlikeable and there was something about her that just got under his skin and that irritated him. He hoped that she would make more progress in her second year.

SWSWSW

Smoke was billowing across the platform at Hogsmeade as Sophie boarded the Hogwarts Express, dread heavy in her stomach as she thought of the coming holiday. Both her aunt and uncle had made it particularly clear to her at Easter that detentions were unforgiveable and Sophie had received two during the summer term, one for returning after the holidays without her holiday homework and the second thanks to the twins. They had somehow found out about the hospital wing visit and had cornered her in a deserted corridor a week later – neither had actually touched her, but the threat had been clear and Reuben had made a point of shredding her Transfiguration homework with a well-aimed spell. The teacher, the newly appointed Professor Doreen Grey, had given Sophie the benefit of the doubt the week before when her holiday homework had failed to pass muster, being half the required length (it had been all the young witch had managed to cobble together in the time she had before the lesson). The Professor had spent the detention giving the girl a one on one coaching session, trying to bring her disastrous wandwork up to scratch. Trying being the operative word and Sophie had still failed the end of year exam. She'd also failed her Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts finals. Snape hadn't been so much furious as resigned in her progress meeting with him the previous day and Sophie was now destined to spend her second year in remedial classes. He'd ignored her protests.

Sophie dragged her trunk into the nearest luggage compartment, decided against finding an empty seat in one of the compartments and sank down on top of it. It was slightly ironic really that her first year at Hogwarts had started and ended the same way – with her sat in the luggage compartment. She tried to read a textbook but then gave up, her mind too full to concentrate. In the end, she simply placed her head in her hands and tried desperately to work out how she was going to survive the coming months.

---

Hope you have enjoyed these snapshots of Sophie Winterchild's and Snape's first year together. Please let me know what you think, either in a PM or a review. As mentioned at the start, The Unexpected Quandary is a prequel to my next, bigger, work, An Even Greater Challenge. I've uploaded The Unexpected Quandary first as it can also be read as a stand-alone piece and it was ready to go, unlike the sequel which still needs some work before I can start posting chapters. If you want to read more about Severus and Sophie's journey together, please watch out for the sequel which should start to be posted in the next couple of months.

An Even Greater Challenge - Spying for the Order of the Phoenix… teaching for almost twenty years… not even keeping Potter alive against all the odds. No, nothing could've prepared him for this new challenge. Severus Snape becomes the reluctant guardian of a traumatised eleven-year-old girl. Post war fic.