An Even Greater Challenge

Chapter 8 – The Visitor

The medical review board took five days to get back to Aspen Fezziwick. Severus received her letter on the morning of the sixth day. It informed him that he could treat Sophie with his new Magical Restoration Draft so long as he kept St Mungo's fully informed with the forward progress in the form of frequent reports. He was unsurprised but also slightly annoyed that they requested these reports to contain both writing and pictures. Somehow, he was going to have to persuade the child to let him take those pictures. Sophie had now been with him for the best part of a fortnight, although, if he had not known any better, when he checked the lacerations on her back, Severus would've put money on the fact that she'd only begun treatment a day or two ago. The healing progress was so slow that it was almost non-existent.

That morning after a continental-style breakfast of croissants and fruit, they both went through to Severus's office as usual, but instead of starting the coaching (Transfiguration today), he decided that he needed to bring Sophie up to speed on the new developments. She was making no secret of the fact that she wasn't in a good mood that morning, dragging her feet as she crossed the room to the little table in front of the window and huffing loudly as she dropped into her chair. Severus could tell that she was completely fed up. Her lack of progress in mastering even the simplest spells was clearly frustrating for both of them.

'Before we start lessons today, there's something I wish to talk to you about, Sophie.' She looked up sullenly and raised a quizzical eyebrow, an expression that Severus knew she had copied from him. 'Last week when I visited Healer Fezziwick in St Mungo's we discussed the lack of healing I've been seeing with your whip injuries and…'

'You didn't say you were meeting her!' Sophie interrupted. 'I thought that you were going for a meeting about your potion making! I didn't realise that you went there to talk about me!' She scowled ferociously and Severus, in spite of her rudeness felt his mouth quirk slightly and quickly straightened his features so she wouldn't think that he found her lack of manners amusing.

'Don't interrupt please, Sophie.' She fell silent in spite of the continued protests that were clearly still on the tip of her tongue.

Severus had already decided that he would keep this simple and light. Merlin only knew but the child had enough psychological trauma and emotional burdens to deal with. At any rate, she did not need to know everything and she certainly did not need to know his fears regarding the ongoing effect of the torture and her depleted magical core. He did, however, have to persuade her to take the Magical Restoration Draft and this would require giving her some information. She wasn't stupid and she wouldn't be fobbed off with a half story or truth. Severus knew that he needed to tell her the truth. He needed to give her just enough so that she realised that it was in her best interests to take the potion when he gave it to her.

'As I was saying, Sophie, I spoke to Healer Fezziwick about how your back isn't healing as well as I would've hoped. I also spoke to her about your difficulty with practical magic…'

'Why did you tell her that?' The child interrupted again, her face bright red and furious. 'I don't want you to tell people! It's not fair! I…'

'Calm down, child, and listen to me,' Severus said smoothly, refusing to rise to her continued rudeness. 'I told her about your difficulties because I believe that the two things are connected, that is the slow healing and the difficulty you have with magic.'

'How are they connected?' In spite of the sneer in her voice, Severus could see that he had her attention now, and also that she was very interested in what he had to say.

'You have been whipped by a Witch's Scourge, Sophie,' Severus told her, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible. She stared stonily at him, her face blank and emotionless. 'Wounds left by the Scourge resist all types of magical healing. Even diagnostic spells cannot work properly on them. They are designed to heal slowly over time by leeching the victim's internal magic.' The child's face had gone white and Severus spontaneously leaned forwards and placed a hand on her arm in solidarity. 'I believe that is what is causing your difficulty in casting spells and also your slow healing, Sophie. Your body has been drained and it simply has nothing left to give at the moment.' He stopped speaking and looked at her to see if she had anything she wanted to ask. There was a long silence before she finally opened her mouth.

'Okay…' Her voice was tiny. 'What does that mean?' She sounded so young and lost that Severus, usually impassive and detached, almost felt the need to reach over and pull her into his arms. Curbing this strange impulse, he quickly occluded his mind and carried on speaking.

'I believe that we can fix this, Sophie,' he said, very firmly because if his voice betrayed even a hint of doubt, she would undoubtably not believe anything he had to say. I have spoken to the healers at St Mungo's and we think that a Magical Restoration Draft might be the thing to help.'

'What's a Magic…?' She faltered.

'A Magical Restoration Draft? It's a potion that will help your magical cells to rejuvenate, that is to grow back, quicker.'

'Will it hurt?' Severus was a bit taken aback by the direction her questioning had immediately taken. Then again, this child had suffered enough pain for a lifetime, so it was probably unsurprising that her questions had gone down this route, all things considered.

'No, it won't be painful, Sophie.'

'Are you sure?'

'It won't hurt a bit,' Severus assured her, 'you won't even feel it. In fact, it should speed up the healing of your back so that you have less pain.'

'And it will help me get better at spells and things too?' She asked, her voice slightly more confident now.

'Yes child, it will.'

'When will I have to take it?'

'The potion takes a full twenty-four hours to mature. I'll start brewing it this afternoon and it should be ready by dinner time tomorrow.' Severus told her.

'And you're absolutely positive that it won't do anything nasty to me?'

'No, it won't,' Severus assured her patiently. If he was honest with himself, then he was counting this a win on all fronts – she hadn't outright refused to take it. However, he supposed that there was still plenty of time for that though when the time came for her to actually drink it. 'Now, shall we crack on with some Transfiguration before the morning wastes?' She bit her lip and nodded unenthusiastically. 'Beatles into buttons,' Severus said, sliding his wand out of his pocket.

****SW****

Lessons dragged that morning, more so than usual. In spite of Snape's patience with her very slow progress, Sophie couldn't bring herself to even respond civilly to him. Instead, she did what he asked but kept her head down and her mouth shut. Her performance today was even worse than usual. At least she knew why now, although Snape's words hadn't exactly been comforting. If the open wounds on her back had drained her magic, Merlin, were still draining her magic, then didn't that mean that they had also turned her into a sort-of-squib? Snape had told her that she wasn't born a squib but that didn't necessarily mean that her aunt and uncle hadn't turned her into one.

'Sophie?' She looked up and saw that Snape was looking down at her with concern. 'Are you okay, child?'

'I'm fine!'

'Don't lie to me,' he said softly. Sophie gulped and tried to summon a sneer to her face. She failed. 'What's bothering you?'

'Nothing!' Her voice cracked ever so slightly on the second syllable but she stared defiantly at him, pretending that she hadn't heard it.

'Sophie?' His tone was still gentle and there was a hint of persuasion. In spite of the fact that Sophie had got used to this 'new' Snape over the last two weeks, it still took her by surprise that he was being so kind and patient with her even when she was acting like a brat. 'I won't force you to talk about it if you don't wish to,' Snape said suddenly, 'however, I would prefer it if you didn't lie to me. If I ask whether or not you are okay and the answer is 'no', then simply say ''no Severus, I'm not okay but I don't wish to talk about it.'' Do you understand, child?' Sophie stared at him resentfully for a few seconds. The Potions Master raised an eyebrow but then simply stared back at her. In the end, she huffed and dropped her eyes to the tabletop, giving him the world's tiniest nod as she did so.

'Very well, child, its lunch time now, come on.' He got to his feet and swept smoothly out of the room, without so much as a backward glance at her. More annoyed than ever, Sophie got up and followed him out of the room, dragging her feet as she went.

They ate salmon pasta and crusty bread in a tense silence, broken only once when Snape informed Sophie that he had a guest coming for dinner that evening. He did not tell her who the guest was and, in spite of herself, Sophie found herself shifting awkwardly in her seat and chewing on her bottom lip, again imagining her aunt and uncle coming in through the front door of Snape's house and sitting down beside her at the table. She knew that she was being silly but the images came nonetheless. Snape didn't seem to notice her discomfort.

'Okay, Sophie, as the weather has finally improved a little, I think we will go out for our walk now, rather than waiting till later. I'll meet you in the hallway in five minutes.'

'Why do we always have to go out?' Sophie bit her tongue but the question had already escaped.

'Because, child, fresh air is good for us and it is particularly good for you. Even muggles know that fresh air is essential for growing youngsters.' Snape told her silkily. He had a response for everything and Sophie rolled her eyes at him and then slouched out of the room, taking care to close the door rather harder than was really necessary on her way.

'I thought you said that the weather was better,' Sophie muttered, fifteen minutes later as they walked across the field behind the house. 'Better my…' She caught Snape's eye and stopped just in time before earning another punishment for bad language.

It was true that the rain had finally stopped, but the wind was so ferocious that Snape had immediately told her they would not be walking the cliff top that day for fear that Sophie, who weighed next to nothing, would be blown over the edge. Instead, they walked inland across the fields a way and then took a steep path that twisted down through a mass of damp, overhanging greenery to the small shingle beach. They hadn't even gone halfway before Sophie, who was completely fed up of the wind whistling round her head and the tree branches shaking water down her neck, asked if they could turn back.

'No, we cannot,' Snape said simply, 'we've been out for less than fifteen minutes.'

'Can't I get fresh air by sitting by an open window?'

'No.'

'It's still fresh air,' Sophie grumbled, 'it's so fresh out here that I can barely breathe.' It was true – even inland, the gusts of wind were so strong that they took her breath away.

'Be as that may, most children wouldn't want to be cooped up in a house all day. Ah here we are.'

'Well, maybe I'm not like most children,' Sophie snapped, stepping out on the windswept shingle at the top of the little beach.

A breakwater of rocks reached out into the sea to the left side of the bay and the noise of the rough, wind-whipped surf breaking over the top of it was almost deafening. Salt spray hung in the air. Even from up here, Sophie could taste it on her tongue. Inside the breakwater, the water was calmer but the waves that ran up the beach still had enough power to churn up the shingle as they threw themselves up the steep bank of tiny rocks and sand and then sucked themselves backwards again. Severus turned as if to walk along the top of the beach and away from the breakwater and Sophie, wanting to get away from him, more to be contrary than anything else, turned the other way towards the breakwater.

'Be careful, Sophie, stay well away from the rocks. Those waves are fierce.' His warning floated back to her, cutting through the sound of the waves.

'Oh, just leave me alone, greasy git,' Sophie muttered to herself, safe in the knowledge that he was out of earshot. Scowling to herself, she started to climb up the rocks.

It was clearly a bad idea and Sophie was all too aware that she was tempting fate, poking the sleeping dragon in the eye, if you like. Nonetheless, she continued up the steep little breakwater until she was standing on the top of the narrow ridge of rocks. Almost blinded by spray, she struggled up from her crouched position and turned towards the sea, looking out across the water. It made her feel alive and in control as she stood, braced against the onshore wind, as the surf crashed on the rocks just below her. That is until and extra-large wave, rolling in on the rising tide, hit the rock below her and crested up over her head, knocking her backwards, head over heels, down the part she'd just climbed and onto the beach below. It was all over very quickly; blinded and disorientated by the salt water that seemed to be everywhere at once, Sophie felt something very hard crashing into the back of her head, and then her back smashed down onto wet sand that felt rock solid and which knocked the air out of her lungs. She lay there gasping, trying and failing to command her lungs to breathe in as the rest of the wave cascaded down around her and then drained away down the beach and into the sea. Black spots swum in front of her eyes and for a second or two the world went dark and confusing. Then, the searing pain in her back brought her sharply back to herself and she finally managed to gasp in a short breath and then another and another. Her exhalations came out as small whimpers of pain.

Sophie lay still, just breathing, for just about long enough to realise that staying here wasn't an option – another wave had already crested the breakwater, drenching her for a second time and more were surely coming too. Carefully, whimpering with the effort, she rolled onto her hands and knees, trying not to move her back too much. Even so, the pain was so intense that she leaned forwards and retched onto the sand, losing at least some if not all of her lunch. The movement pulled at her injured back even more and she felt tears of pain mingling with the saltwater already on her face. When it was over, and moving as carefully as possible, she began to crawl slowly up the beach until she was far enough away to be safe from the crashing waves. Then, even more slowly and carefully, she pushed herself to her feet, straightening her back. She gritted her teeth and winced but the pain was thankfully less intense now, so long as she moved slowly and didn't try to make any sudden movements.

She heard the sound of hurried footsteps on damp shingle and then the familiar baritone voice bellowing out to her.

'Winterchild! Do you listen to nothing at all that I say to you?' Summoning a scowl to her face, Sophie turned carefully to see Snape striding towards her. She could tell from his face that he was furious. 'Did I not warn you to stay away from the waves?' He demanded his voice at a lower volume, as he reached her. His tone was still furious.

'Whatever,' Sophie managed to capture a degree of spite into her voice.

'I have told you time and time again that I do not appreciate that, that axiom and that I would prefer if you would refrain from using it when talking to me!' Snape snapped. 'Why in the name of Merlin would you get so close to the water, child? Did I not say that it was dangerous?'

'I didn't do it on purpose!' Sophie retorted, more annoyed than ever – her back hurt, Merlin it hurt more now than it had since she had arrived at Snape's house but she was too proud to tell him that and give him further ammunition to rebuke her. He would probably just tell her that it was her own fault, which she knew was the truth but she still didn't want to hear him say it to her. 'I'm fine. I'm just a bit wet. It's just water, it won't kill me!'

'Are you hurt?' Snape demanded, his obsidian eyes seeming to scrutinise every inch of her. Sophie gritted her teeth and shook her head. Then she turned away and stomped up the beach towards the footpath with as much force as she could muster, whilst trying not to whimper in pain.

'I want to go home.' She froze as the word left her, realising what she'd said. One foot dangled in the air for half a second before she lost her balance and it came down with a jarring thud that sent a wave of agony through her back. She bit her lip against the moan that threatened to escape. With watering eyes, she looked back over her shoulder, and saw a strange expression flitting across the Potion Master's face, before the usual emotionless curtain fell across his features again.

'Very well, Sophie, let's go home.' He had used the same word as she had. It made her feel slightly strange - slightly vulnerable and that made her feel defensive. Sophie twitched up the hood of her coat so that it would cover the back of her head and stalked up the path. Snape was sure to notice the wound there as he walked behind her up the path without the hood obscuring his view.

'You are to go upstairs and get into dry clothes immediately.' Snape told her, as they walked in through the front door fifteen minutes later. Sophie levelled another scowl at him but did as she was told without argument. 'Oh and Sophie...' Using the banister as a crutch, Sophie swung round to see him looking up at her from the hallway below. 'I have a potion to brew this afternoon so you will have to entertain yourself.' Sophie rolled her eyes at the floor.

'That sounds much better than spending time with you,' she muttered.

'What did you say?'

'I said 'okay'.'

'Very well, I'll get Mim to send up some snacks and a hot drink.' She nodded curtly at him. 'I expect you downstairs by six-thirty to greet my guest. You need to be presentable. Brush your hair and change into something decent.'

'Okay.'

'Watch your tone,' Snape told her, turning on his heal and sweeping into his office. The door closed with a snap behind him. Sophie glared at the closed door for a few seconds, hating him, hating this house, hating everything and most of all hating this endless, sickening pain that seemed to radiating across her back. Then she turned and made her slow and painful way up the stairs to her bedroom.

****SS****

In spite of the fact that he had told the child to make herself presentable for his guest that evening, Severus himself became so engrossed in his brewing that he did not realise the passing of the time until the Floo alarm chimed softly through the house warning him of the imminent arrival of his guest. Luckily, black trousers and shirt were fairly low maintenance, not that he was a messy person at any rate. He quickly used his wand to freshen up the front of his shirt, removing a small potion stain and several creases before making his way out to the large fireplace in the hallway just as emerald green flames sprang into life in the grate. The shape of a spinning form appeared amongst the flames, resolving itself into the familiar tall, blond figure of the former head boy, Draco Malfoy.

'Good evening, Draco,' Severus said smoothly, moving forward as the younger wizard brought himself to a controlled halt and stepped out of the fireplace.

'Good evening, Severus,' the other wizard answered just as smoothly, taking the proffered hand. Severus smiled at him, suddenly feeling slightly awkward – they had always had a closer relationship than mere Professor and student and he had been a part of Draco's life since long before the boy had come to Hogwarts. However, eight years of teaching and eight years of 'Professor' and 'sir' had formed a barrier between them that would probably not vanish overnight. He had to admit that it felt slightly strange, now, to be addressed by his first name.

'Come through to the living room, do you have a cloak?' He saw that Draco did not, and quickly lead the way through into the living room. He was pleased to see that Mim had had the foresight to light the fire and there were several decanters of whisky and oak matured mead on the sideboard beside the window. 'Have a seat, can I get you a drink, Draco?'

'Oh, go on then, whatever you're having.' The younger wizard seemed more comfortable with this than he himself was, either that or he was putting on a good show. He immediately took the chair closest to the fireplace, watching lazily as Severus poured out their drinks. Feeling slightly ill at ease, Severus poured them both a generous measure of his favourite thirty-year-old whisky.

'Mmm, thank you Severus. Muggles do know how to do some things well don't they.' Severus told himself firmly to snap out of it and nodded at his guest.

'That they do,' he agreed, sniffing appreciatively at his drink and taking the seat opposite Draco. 'Anyway, Draco, congratulations on your exam results - very impressive.'

'I learned from the best.' Severus looked up in time to see the glint of laughter in the younger wizard's eyes as he gave his old smarmy response, the sort of thing that perhaps a few years ago, the old school-boy Draco might have responded in order to curry favour with his head of house.

'A great achievement, and an acceptance at St Mungo's to boot,' Severus said, smirking back at him.

'Not an acceptance, just an interview, Severus, and thank you for agreeing to be my referee and for the invitation to dinner.'

'Well, it seemed a shame to send my reference by owl post and miss the opportunity to catch up,' Severus said honestly, taking a long sip of his drink. Draco really was right – those Muggles really did know how to do some things properly and this was honestly the best whisky that he had ever tasted. 'Here it is by the way – the envelope has been sealed so that it cannot be tampered with, not that you would, naturally.'

'Naturally.' Draco took the proffered envelope and slid it into the breast pocket of his shirt. 'Thank you.'

'I assure you that I have written only the truth,' Severus smirked at him.

'Of course, I would expect nothing less.' Draco took a small mouthful of his drink, 'mmm, this really is delicious, thank you.'

'What have you been doing for the last month of holidays?' Severus asked, moving the conversation forward. He was rather surprised when Draco chuckled and shrugged, somewhat sheepishly.

'Well, not having a holiday, anyway. Those entrance exams to St Mungo's aren't like finding a toadstool in a pixie garden, I can assure, you and the ones for La Santé in Paris are renowned for being even worse and they're in French.'

'You speak French fluently,' Severus reminded him coolly.

'Yes, but it's still strange answering questions in a different language,' Draco told him, somewhat apprehensively.

'I'm confident that you will manage perfectly,' Severus told him truthfully – Draco had always been a model student, amongst the top of his year in all subjects and second only to Granger in the subjects that really mattered for Healing; Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Herbology. No, come to think of it, Draco had come third in that one, behind both Longbottom and Granger.

'I was good last year in school because there really wasn't much competition,' Draco told him, seemingly thinking along the same lines. 'Not many returned for eighth year and I'd had the advantage of learning most of the course materials the year before.' There was a slight pause, during which both wizards looked at the fire.

'When are you sitting the entrance exams?' Severus asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

'St Mungo's is the day after tomorrow and La Santé is the day after that.' The younger wizard bit his lip suddenly and then drained his whisky in one gulp. Without commenting, Severus poured him another.

'And which will you accept when you are offered places at both?' He asked smoothly.

'Don't poke the sleeping dragon in the eye!' Draco protested, but Severus saw the grateful smile playing on his lips. He shrugged.

'I dislike false modesty, Draco,' he admitted, 'No, I am confident you will do well. You have always been a more than able student. You were one of the top students in your year throughout your school career, not just for the last year.'

'I'm flattered but I will still feel more comfortable once the entrance exams are over,' Draco replied, slightly morosely, sipping his new drink. 'At least then I'll know.' There was another long pause.

'Well, St Mungo's is renowned for its quick decision making,' Severus said lightly. 'You will undoubtably find out pretty swiftly. 'Once you have your acceptance, I expect you to return my invitation for dinner.' He was pleased when his words brought a sudden smile to the other wizard's face.

'You shall have an invitation whatever the outcome, Severus. I have much to thank you for. So, what have you been up to since we broke up a month ago? Have you been on holiday?' He continued, very obviously changing the subject. In spite of the whisky he had consumed, (he was also on his second), Severus suddenly felt slightly ill at ease again.

'Well, term only ended for me a fortnight ago,' he muttered, stalling slightly, 'us Professors continue on for a few weeks after you students go home, you know.' Severus suddenly made up his mind. After all, he had known that it would come to this when he had sent Draco the invitation to dinner. 'Actually, Draco, I have been somewhat occupied since the end of term by a…' He hesitated again, searching for the right words. 'A situation.' He saw Draco raising his eyebrows. 'For the past fortnight, I have had a student living with me.'

'A student living with you?'

'Yes, I became aware that one of the former first years was in a difficult position at home,' Severus told him, choosing his words carefully because Draco did not need to know everything about Sophie Winterchild's difficulties. 'We have removed her from her guardian's care and she has come to live with me for the time being, until a more permanent solution can be found.' A look of curiosity flashed across Draco's face, followed by one of concern.

'Which student? Do I know them?' Severus looked at him levelly.

'It's Sophie Winterchild,' he told him, slowly.

'Winterchild?' Draco leaned forward and placed his empty glass on the coffee table. When Severus made as if to refill it, the other wizard waved the bottle away. 'That's… well, that's interesting but not really a surprise.' Draco finally acknowledged, looking thoughtfully at Severus. Severus felt a brief flicker of rising anger at Draco's matter-of-fact tone.

'What do you mean?' He asked, carefully occluding his mind so that his face wouldn't betray him.

'Not a lot,' Draco admitted, 'just that I am not really surprised that it's Winterchild – she was a bit strange all of last year, wasn't she?'

'I didn't notice,' Severus lied reflexively. He was suddenly feeling as though he might've let Sophie Winterchild down and badly. Merlin, but had he not worked out for himself that there was something strange going on with the child extremely early on in the school year, even before the events of the spring term had brought her more firmly under his radar? But he'd chosen to believe that she was simply homesick and struggling to fit in. He had chosen to do nothing except sit back and watch how things unfolded, having convinced himself that things would improve as she moved up the school. How could he have been so blind? Feeling slightly nauseous, Severus swallowed convulsively.

'Oh, come on, Severus, you must've noticed how jumpy she was? And she had no friends to speak of although I always put that down to her being the only Slytherin girl in her year.' Severus sighed heavily and decided to admit defeat.

'You're right, of course Draco - I noticed. However, I foolishly put it down to her leaving home for the first time and not her turbulent home life. After all, it is not uncommon for the lower school to be homesick.'

'And then there was the bedwetting,' Draco went on. Severus leaned forwards and raised an eyebrow.

'The bedwetting?'

'Daphne only approached her about it once but she told me that it happened fairly frequently. She said that she didn't interfere after the first occasion because Winterchild seemed to have it well in hand.'

'Why didn't Miss Greengrass come to me if she had concerns over a first year?' Severus asked, feeling slightly out of his depth in spite of his years of experience with student's problems. To his surprise, Draco chuckled drily.

It's not really a thing you'd approach a professor about. Loads of first years have problems in that line.'

'They do?'

'Call yourself a Professor?' Draco scoffed gently, 'no, honestly, Severus – leaving home at eleven years' old. Let's just say it's not as uncommon as you would think. Blaize had problems when he came back from holidays for most of first year. None of us gave him a hard time about it.' Trying not to appear shocked by this piece of information, Severus leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his drink.

'I see, I had no idea.'

'It's not really a big deal,' Draco assured him, 'not by itself, but I do wish that I'd thought to come to you when I found Winterchild having a panic attack in the corridor that time…'

'A panic attack?' Severus interrupted, leaning forward again.

'Yes, it was just after we got back from the Christmas holidays. I think she'd just had a letter from home, something about a detention. She'd got a letter from her aunt about it and it totally freaked her out.' Draco paused, scrunching up his face in the effort of remembering. 'She took some time to calm down. I wish now that I'd thought to mention it you but at the time I just thought she was overreacting a bit. I suppose that it was her aunt and uncle who were abusing her?' Severus had actually said nothing about 'abuse' but Draco was astute enough to have guessed correctly. He nodded curtly.

'Yes, indeed, and don't worry overly about not telling me about the panic attack Draco. You weren't to know at the time. I myself made many mistakes with regards to Sophie Winterchild over the past year.' He sighed regretfully and then, glancing at the clock above the fireplace, he got to his feet – dinner would be ready but Mim would be uncomfortable with the idea of interrupting their conversation to inform them that they could go through to the dining room. Draco followed suit, standing up and stretching. For the first time, Severus realised that the other wizard now stood a head taller than he himself did. It made him feel slightly uncomfortable, which in itself, made him feel annoyed with himself. They had reached the doorway and Severus had already pulled the door semi ajar when he checked himself, pushed the door closed once more and turned to the other wizard.

'Draco, I need to warn you that Winterchild has been badly hurt in case it comes as a surprise. The scars are fading with repeated applications of scar serum but it will still take some time. Please be aware that she is very self-conscious of them.' Draco nodded, looking faintly nauseous.

'Of course, Severus, I understand.'

Together the two wizards crossed the hall and entered the dining room. They were several minutes late for dinner and Mim was waiting anxiously to serve the food. Predictably, there was no sign of Sophie Winterchild.

****SW****

In fairness, Sophie had fully intended to do as Snape had asked her. However, when she reached her room, undressing proved to be an excruciatingly painful task and she spent at least ten minutes working her blouse up over her head whilst trying not to move her back too sharply. When at last it lay in a damp heap on the floor, she pulled off her skirt and underwear and crossed over to the mirror on the wardrobe door, squinting over her shoulder as she tried to survey the damage she'd done to her back. There was nothing to see – the sterile dressings still covered her from shoulder to the backs of her knees. One or two looked slightly twisted and torn but there was nothing else to show for her mishap at the beach. It just hurt rather a lot when she moved too sharply and it was obvious that she'd done herself some mischief or other, reopened a wound or disturbed something. Shuddering slightly, Sophie reached up to probe at the back of her head and her fingers came away damp and sticky with a mixture of blood, sand and seawater. It didn't seem too bad – just a little sore and tender. She'd had worse but this new injury was going to make hair brushing a pain for a few days. Sophie wrapped herself in her dressing gown and lay down on her bed, trying to find a position in which nothing pulled or pressed on her injuries. It was surprisingly difficult and she ended up curled on her right side, her head half off the pillow.

Perhaps the head injury was worse than she had initially thought because it took Sophie precisely ten seconds to fall into a deep and dreamless sleep. She slept through the house elf apparating into her room, carrying a plate of fruit and a hot drink, and she slept through the chiming of the floo alarm from the hall downstairs, announcing the arrival of Snape's guest. She finally woke in a panic almost forty minutes later; sure that she had missed something important. Sure enough, when she rolled over, gasping with pain as the movement tugged strangely at the dressings on her back, the small alarm clock on the bedside table told her that it was eighteen thirty-five and that she was officially late for dinner.

She intended to hurry but sitting up too fast made her dizzy and pulling a clean dress over her head was so painful that she thought she was going to faint. Getting a hairbrush through the tangled clump of hair, blood and saltwater at the back of her head proved to be impossible so she simply left it as it was and hoped that Snape wouldn't notice. Once she was upright and walking, she started to feel slightly less as if the ground was slipping out from beneath her feet and that she would tumble down into a sea of darkness at any second. Sophie descended the stairs as smoothly and as carefully as possible so as not to jar her back but hesitated outside the dining room door – the door had been pulled nearly to and two voices were coming from inside the room – Snape's melodic baritone and a slightly higher, male voice that she thought she recognised but couldn't quite place. Sophie shifted her weight awkwardly between her feet, her anxiety rising as she contemplated pushing open the door and walking into the room. She wished that Snape had told her who his guest was so that she could have mentally prepared for it. Merlin, she wished that Snape hadn't asked her to eat dinner with them – she'd have been perfectly happy eating alone in the kitchen or in her bedroom. As she stood there, dithering, she suddenly heard the sound of a chair being pushed back inside the room and swift footsteps. Before she could react, the door was pulled open from the inside and Snape appeared on the threshold.

'Ah there you are, Sophie,' he said, not unkindly. Sophie saw him looking her up and down and his mouth twist into a half-sneer as he took in her bedraggled appearance and her half-arsed attempt to make herself presentable in the way that he had bid. 'I see that you made an effort to tidy yourself just as I asked,' he said caustically. Sophie summoned a half-hearted sneer to her own face but it slid out of place almost immediately as she heard a chuckle from the room beyond. She looked anxiously past the Potions Master and into the dining room but all she could make out of the visitor was one boot-clad foot, dragon-hide boots and silver buckles if she wasn't mistaken. It wasn't enough to identify the visitor and she felt her anxiety rising even more. Perhaps it was somebody else from the Ministry, here to ask her more questions about her aunt and uncle?

'Come on in, child, you've kept us waiting long enough.' Snape continued, taking a step to one side to let her go past him and into the room. Sophie took a step forward but hesitated again, unable to will her feet to move in the right direction. As stupid as it seemed and as ridiculous as this was - a nonsensical and complete overreaction to just walking into a room, she just couldn't bring herself to walk forward. Instead, her breathing was becoming erratic and her palms sweaty. Her knees had started to tremble so violently that she was afraid that they would give way beneath her.

'Child…' Snape suddenly took a swift step towards her, pulling the door semi-shut behind him so that it formed a barrier between them and the visitor. He crossed the distance between them with another stride and placed a gentle hand on her shaking shoulder. 'Sophie, take a deep breath. There is no need to panic now. You are safe and there is nothing to worry about.' Suddenly feeling self conscious, Sophie scowled up at him and twisted out from under his hand.

'I'm fine.'

'If you say so,' Snape said, somewhat tiredly. He made no effort at all to curb the incredulous tone in his voice. 'Now, there is absolutely nothing to worry about,' he said again. 'I apologise for not telling you in advance who was coming this evening and causing you anxiety. You actually know him – it is last year's head boy, Mr Malfoy. He has come to collect a reference from me for an interview he is doing later this week and I have asked him to stay for dinner.' Sophie shrugged, her scowl deepening as she began to feel even more stupid at her obvious overreacting. 'Shall we go through then, Sophie?' Snape asked, his former slightly acidic tone creeping back into his voice. 'I would send you upstairs to brush your hair like I asked you to but you have kept us waiting long enough and Mim is ready to serve.' Sophie flushed slightly, schooled her expression into her most ferocious sneer, and then stalked past him and into the room, pushing the door open so forcefully that it rebounded off the wall.

To give Draco Malfoy his due, he did not flinch at her abrupt entrance.

'Well, good evening Winterchild.' His voice, low, cool and charismatic sent a wave of annoyance through her as she came to a halt just inside the door. She'd always found him a bit annoying.

'That was quite unnecessary, Sophie,' Snape snapped entering the room behind her. Sophie almost flinched away from him, saw that Malfoy was watching her carefully and locked her knees in place to stop herself from moving. 'I have asked you many times to watch the paintwork.'

'I'm sorry,' she griped out, because it seemed like a response of some sort was required.

'Very well, you may take a seat.' Snape said, walking round the table and returning to his former place, opposite Malfoy. Sophie scowled but did as she was told. It felt weird to be sat next to someone, rather than having one side of the large table to herself.

'How are you doing, Winterchild?' The former head boy asked her as she slid awkwardly onto a chair, trying to minimise the movement of her sore back. When she looked up at him to shrug in response, she saw that he was looking down at her with an odd expression on his face. Her hand flew up automatically, her fingers tracing the vivid scar that ran down her cheek. Repeated applications of scar-serum over the past fortnight had lessened its lividity somewhat but it still formed a raised purple line across her face. She saw the pity in his eyes and she hated it.

'It's been eventful, has it not, Sophie?' Snape answered for her, after a long enough pause to make it obvious to everyone in the room that Sophie was not going to answer verbally for herself. 'Would you like some wine Draco?'

For the first time, Sophie became aware of the cut glass decanter in the centre of the table. She felt her heart sinking slightly as Snape poured a generous measure of the honey-coloured liquid into two tall wine glasses. The sight of them both sipping at their glasses made her feel slightly queasy. It brought back memories of her aunt and uncle, sitting in their living room with a similar glass decanter on the coffee table between them. Sophie sat up a little straighter in her chair and determined not to do anything else to annoy Snape tonight. She couldn't risk it, not after he'd been drinking. Her aunt and uncle, particularly her uncle had always been worse after a glass or two.

'Here's your potion, Sophie.' Snape slid the familiar potion bottle across the table towards her. For the first time ever, Sophie received it gratefully, without even the smallest of inward hesitations – her back hurt, Merlin it hurt more now than it had in weeks and she needed something to dull the pain. As usual, once she had swallowed it down she felt the familiar relief - it helped but it did not completely erase the sting every time she moved. It did help her to focus on what was going on the room and that was a relief – she needed her wits about her tonight.

At that moment, the house elf appeared out of thin air, causing her to jump horribly in her seat, biting her lip against the whimper of pain that threatened to force its way out. Eyes watering from the stab of pain that the abrupt movement had sent through her back, Sophie watched as he served them all plates of roast chicken and potatoes and then set bowls of steaming vegetables in the centre of the table before disapperating one more. It seemed amazing that one tiny elf could carry so many dishes and plates in one go.

'Would you like some water, Winterchild?' Draco offered, pouring himself a glass from the jug in the centre of the table. She nodded and he handed her a glass. 'Carrots?' He asked next. Sophie caught the scowl that threatened to cross her features – did he think she was a baby who couldn't help herself? She nodded again and glowered at the table as he helped her to large spoonfuls of carrots, broccoli, peas, parsnips, gravy and something stringy and purple that looked suspiciously like the potion ingredients she'd seen on Snape's bench that very morning. She prodded at it suspiciously with a fork and heard a low chuckle from across the table.

'It's spiced red cabbage, Sophie,' Snape informed her, 'try it. If you don't like it, just leave it on the side of your plate.'

'Bon appetite,' Malfoy said smoothly and Snape raised his glass to him and nodded. Sophie gave him a puzzled look but didn't ask what he meant. She waited until both the men had started eating before she picked up her own knife and fork.

For the most part, the two men talked of things that Sophie neither cared about nor even understood as they ate their way through the roast chicken and then a dessert of lemon cheesecake with vanilla ice cream. Sophie found that she had little appetite and although Snape clearly noted that she spent most of the meal toying with the food on her plate rather than eating it, he made no comment in front of Malfoy. During dessert, Malfoy tried once more to engage Sophie in conversation.

'So Winterchild, have you been flying at all this summer?' Sophie started at the sound of her own name and shook her head. 'If you get in some practice now, then you have a good shot at making the Slytherin Quidditch team next year,' Malfoy continued. Sophie glanced over the table at Snape and saw that he was expecting her to answer.

'I don't want to be on the Quidditch team,' she mumbled. She saw an amused smirk flickering briefly across Malfoy's face.

'So I recall,' he told her, now openly chuckling, 'practicing wouldn't come amiss though in case you change your mind.'

'I won't but even if I did then I don't have a broom!'

'There is a broom shed behind the house although I don't own any racing brooms,' Snape told her. 'At any rate, you won't be clear to ride a broom until your back heals a little more.'

'Her back?' Malfoy asked, turning to Snape. Sophie felt herself flushing and dropped her eyes to her nearly untouched dessert. After a few seconds of awkward silence during which she could almost feel the silent communications crossing the table between the two men, Malfoy cleared his throat and changed the subject. Sophie mixed her cheesecake around with a fork until it turned into an unappealing pale brown sludge on the plate. She was pleased when she heard Snape pushing back his chair.

'Stop playing with your food, Sophie.' Sophie didn't look up, instead choosing to scowl at her plate. 'You may leave the table.' Not needing to be told twice, she pushed her own chair back and stood up. 'You may go up to your room or you may join us in the living room,' Snape told her. Still not looking up at him, Sophie mumbled something about reading in her room. 'Very well child.' He turned away form her. 'Let's get a nightcap, Draco before you go. Just the one though, as I'm sure you want a clear head tomorrow.'

'I do indeed, Severus. It was nice to see you again, Winterchild.' Sophie looked up at him, transferred her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other and then, catching Snape's eye at last, opened her mouth, knowing that a polite response was required.

'It was… er… nice seeing you again too.' Pleasantries exchanged, she was finally free to flee up the stairs to her room.

The next update will probably be in February.