Chapter Eight - Pushed Too Far

A morning Charms test. Great, just what Evangeline needed.

Tests were never really Evangeline's strong suit. She could get by them just fine, but that was only because her ADHD granted her extra time to finish them. When her father mailed her tests to see how much she knew about wizardry, he'd always give her a week, maybe two, to finish and send them back. Because Snape was never there to supervise and Allison had her hands full with other things, it is reasonable for him to assume she cheated on her tests. However, he trusted his daughter wholeheartedly, which was evidenced by him never purchasing her an anti-cheating quill.

Unfortunately, Hogwarts didn't have accommodations in place for neurodivergent students.

Evangeline glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time, her anxiety rising as the seconds tick by. She looked down at her paper, gulping down the vomit that had risen in her throat. Charms was her worst subject, along with Divination and Arithmancy. All of which she found to be boring. She could remember the spells, but right now, her brain couldn't search for the one that went with the Summoning Charm. Honestly, Evangeline wasn't focusing on the test. It wasn't because she had stopped taking Adderall, it was because of the rumors. She had hoped they'd die down as it was already October, but Pheme — the Greek Goddess of rumor and gossip — was not on her side.

The rumors carried along the breeze, entering one ear and exiting the other, a tidbit landing in the person's brain like a parasite and growing until it leaves their mouth, and the cycle begins anew. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, all of it kept getting under Evangeline's skin.

The bell howled through the silence, its deep toll signaling the end of class. Professor Flitwick collected their tests and sent them on their way, informing them that they'll be making objects fly next class. A murmur of excitement arose in the classroom. They had all been waiting for a moment like this, where they could practice the fun part of magic. Evangeline had barely heard Professor Flitwick's declaration, her mind focusing on the test.

I probably got every question wrong, she thought to herself as she left the class. Evangeline sighed. Oh well, there's no point in worrying about it now. Not when I have bigger things to worry about.

Evangeline's next class was Potions.

Since she was four, Potions was her most favorite subject, especially since her father created a potion that was designed to explode in a haze of blue and taste like a milkshake; he named it Evangeleum — a mix between Evangeline and caeruleum. They still make it together from time to time. However, her most favorite subject was becoming her least favorite.

They've dropped the whole 'pretend to mess up a potion to get detention' thing and her father hasn't shown favoritism, but the glares from the other students made it hard to enjoy perfectly brewing a potion. Evangeline assumes it has something to do with how she won't rein him in when he harshly reprimanded them for their mistakes, but he's her father! What daughter can do a thing like that?

Snape did his best to cheer her up, and while a faint smile would appear, he knew that she was only smiling to appease him.

Evangeline's feet dragged along the stone floor, her stiff body plagued by shallow breaths and a racing heart. The idea of taking her meds was surfacing in her mind, and for a second, Evangeline wondered if she'd be able to make it to her dorm and not be late to class. That thought was quickly squashed when she remembered she had given all of her meds to her father weeks ago.

Her manicured nails dug into her skin as she clenched her fists. The hint of pain traveled through her nerves to her brain, and it didn't take long for the memory of her mother trimming and painting her nails to show itself. Allison always rounds them out, saying, "If you're ever going to scratch a man's eyes out without drawing attention to yourself, they mustn't be too sharp so as to not be noticed, but sharp enough that they make someone bleed." Her mother would always paint her nails blue, creating different designs that she would gleefully show off to anyone that gave her the time of day.

Evangeline smirked, a light chuckle escaping her lips as she shook her head. Her mother was a strong and kind woman. She'd tell her and her little brother stories about her years traveling the world with a large group of young girls, shooting arrows in the forest, and sleeping under the stars while denouncing men. Evangeline even met the leader of the group, whom she nicknamed Arty.

The happy memory was enough to drive her worries away. Evangeline recalled that her father never cared about her nails being painted as long as her mother never put makeup on her. He felt their daughter was too young for that.

At the thought of her father, Evangeline's eyes grew sad, her lips falling to a frown as she lowered her head and her hair drooped over her face. A tight feeling arose in her chest. She grasped her necklace, a gift for her fifth birthday her father had enchanted so she'd feel his love no matter where she was. Snape had intended the gift to be a sweet gesture, but every time Evangeline touched it, she felt undeserving of this much love when all she could give in return was trouble.

Her simmering rage was clawing its way through her stoic expression. A small flicker of the eye here, a twitch of the finger there, and the overwhelming feeling of her body battling for control, Evangeline's journey to Potions felt longer than normal.

She bit back her tongue and curled her fists around the strap of her bag, repeatedly thinking Don't say anything. Just ignore them. The day is almost over, you can do this! as the not-so-subtle whispering from her peers floated around her. Their audacity to not even try to hide what they were talking about was frustrating.

The Potions room was in sight and a few steps away. Evangeline took a deep breath and continued reciting how the Draught of Living Death should be brewed as today her father is finally allowing her to make it. Ron and Harry passed by her, and she clearly heard Ron whisper, "I bet Snape buried Evangeline in work when she was little." He lightly chuckled, "The old git probably expected her to know all those questions he asked you in our first class the moment she was born."

Deep breaths, deep breaths.

"I heard that her brother is so slow that he can't speak," Harry replied.

"He is not slow!" Evangeline roared ferociously, her voice carrying through the hallway like a sound wave.

They all turned to look at her, and they froze.

Evangeline's face had darkened into what could only be described as unbridled rage held back by a thin wall of self-restraint that was very close to crumbling. Her dark eyes bore into theirs, making them feel as though they were staring at death itself. Her nostrils flared alongside her snarling, bared teeth, her body taking on a defensive stance with fists that were clenched so tight the knuckles turned white.

A chill ran down their spines, every instinct in their body telling them to not move or say a word.

They had never seen Evangeline like this. Granted, they should've expected her to express some kind of anger, but now that they see she's capable of the kind of anger that could swallow them whole and spit them out like they were nothing. And knowing that she's the daughter of Severus Snape, a man known for his vast knowledge in potions and the dark arts as he is for his abrasiveness, it is possible that she could make sure they disappeared without a trace.

When Evangeline finally spoke, her voice was soft yet cold, like her father's.

"You think you know everything, don't you?" She glared at all of the students, eyes narrowed. "Well, you don't. Certainly not about me or my family, and I had just about enough of every single one of you saying things about us like its fact."

She turned to the Slytherins. "Let's start off with you, Slytherin. You think my dad cares if I'm not a part of your oh, so, glorious House?" Evangeline's tone turned to mocking as she rolled her eyes. "Do you really believe I'm embarrassing him by being a part of the House he hates? I've been expelled from six schools! I've already embarrassed him! And Draco?" She looks at him with a smile, and he smiles in return, assuming his crush was about to say something nice about him or even ask him out! He was practically giddy at the thought. Evangeline leaned in and said, "You are a pretentious, racist, and arrogant dirtbag, whose entitlement knows no bounds. Not to mention your flirting is absolutely atrocious, and I beg that you stop because you are the most disgusting boy I have ever met. Seriously, just looking at you makes me want to vomit."

Eyebrows rose and gasps erupted among them, along with a few chuckles from Gryffindor. "Good one, Evangeline," Parvati laughed.

Evangeline rounded on Parvati. "Oh, don't you start," she warned, her voice low. "Don't start playing nice with me after being such a . . . b-word to me for the last couple of weeks. You and everyone else. Do you remember when Professor McGonagall told us that our House will be like our family?" They look at each other before sheepishly nodding, with Evangeline nodding along with an annoyed grin. "What in the name of Merlin happened to that?" she yells, making them flinch. "You knew me for barely two weeks before you learned who my father was, and the moment you did, you all turned on me. I get it. My dad is a jerk, and you don't like him, but don't think for a second," her voice rises as she raises a finger, "that you can get away with saying anything bad about my little brother. He is autistic, not slow, and it'll do you good to remember that."

Out of the corner of her eye, Evangeline sees her father standing in the doorway of the classroom, quietly watching the interaction. She knew why he was. No rule had been broken. Yet.

Evangeline also knew that when it came to discipline, her father didn't discriminate. A part of her badly wanted to punch someone, mostly Harry because he called her brother slow. Harry could see the way she glared at him that she badly wanted to hurt him, to end him even.

When her hand swiftly moved up from her side, Harry closed his eyes, preparing himself for the pain he was about to experience. The pain never arrived. He slowly opened his eyes, only to be met by Evangeline's piercing gaze.

"You know nothing of me or my family. If any other disrespectful remark about them comes out of your," she glances at Ron, "or anyone else's mouth, I'll show you exactly what kind of work my father buried me in."

Evangeline let go of Harry's collar and pushed past him, walking up to her father. She took out her homework and handed it to him, catching a glimpse of his faint proud expression before entering the classroom. Snape watched as his daughter took her seat at the front before turning to the other students. The bell rang.

"You're all late," he declared. "Five points from Slytherin and Gryffindor." Snape looks over at Harry, his eyes narrowing and his lip being pulled into a sneer. "Be thankful I don't take more."

Severus Snape was not deaf to the rumors, and he most definitely was not pleased with what the students were assuming of him and his wife. Despite his daughter's changeable nature, he knew that she would reach her limit sooner or later. He never expected it to be so satisfying to watch.

He leaned down to whisper in his daughter's ear. "I am not embarrassed by you. Frustrated at times, yes, but not embarrassed." Snape kisses the top of her head, surprising her as he never showed his love for her in public.

After the last class of the day, Evangeline hurriedly made her way to the dungeons and to her father's office. She stops in front of the door, smoothing out her uniform and knocking three times. Her father ushered her inside, leading her to his desk where the ingredients and tools for the Draught of Living Death were out.

"Did you read my textbook like I told you to?" Snape asked his daughter, who nodded and handed him his old Potions textbook.

Taking a deep breath and rolling up her sleeves, Evangeline takes out her wand, taking a moment to admire the craftsmanship of her brother's painting skills, and uttering a spell to light a fire under the cauldron. As the water boiled, she added the powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood, stirred it up, and carefully added it to the cauldron. Snape stands off to the side, watching as his daughter diligently brewed the Draught of Living Death, her reluctant, shaky movements disrupted by her deep, steady breaths. A part of him felt he shouldn't have made her stop taking her anxiety meds, as he could see she likely still needed them. However, if she is a demigod, he fears how the medication would affect her.

The only reason I'm here is to make sure a demigod doesn't die because her mortal parent can't let her go.

Konstantinos's words echoed in Snape's mind, reminding him of the drastic decision he made that night. He remembers the day Evangeline arrived on his doorstep as though it had happened yesterday. The day he received a child who gave him a purpose; Snape had never expected to do a good job caring for her. He was twenty-years-old, had depression, and barely had any money. Snape can recall every sacrifice he made, every hour he spent awake calming her fussy self down when she had gotten sick, every day that he spent worrying about her well-being, wondering if she was truly happy living with him.

Snape heard the stories about Poseidon, the ancient, violent ruler of the seas who can't keep it in his pants. He knows what kind of god the God of the Sea is, and he knows he will be a terrible influence on Evangeline. Snape is aware he's doing something wrong by keeping a big secret such as this from his daughter, but he had sworn to her mother on her deathbed that he'd keep her safe, and that's what he'll do.

That, and his daughter's sass would get her in trouble with the deity.

"I'm done, father," Evangeline says, handing him a vial.

Snape takes the vial from her hand and inspects the milky white liquid inside, swirling it around. "Excellent, my dear," he praised with a proud smile, caressing his daughter's cheek. "I knew this wouldn't be too difficult for you."

As Evangeline's lips were pulled into a smile, Snape was brought back to the time his daughter would smile at him when their eyes met, her little arms reaching up towards him to show that she wanted to be closer to him. He could still hear her giggling.

Her smile faltered, turning to one of guilt. "What's wrong?" Snape asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"I'm sorry I yelled," she said in a soft voice. "Earlier today in the hallway."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "It's alright. Frankly, I'm just glad you didn't get physical."

"I'd call grabbing a student's collar "getting physical"."

"Yes, but knowing how you get physical, I'm glad that's all you did." Snape ruffles her hair, affectionately remarking, "You're a good sister. I couldn't ask for a better daughter."