An Even Greater Challenge

Chapter 7 – Permanent Damage?

After breakfast they went through to Severus's office to try lessons again and they managed an hour of Charms, followed by an hour of Defence Against the Dark Arts. Although the coaching undoubtably went better than it had the previous day, the child's progress was painfully slow – she seemed to understand the theory of the spells better than most other first years but she still struggled with casting even the simplest spells. Severus could tell that the effort of spellcasting exhausted and frustrated her. Finally, after over twenty attempts at a simple stinging hex, which was only the second spell in the Defence first year curriculum, Sophie flung her wand down on to the table.

'I don't get it! I don't understand why I can't do it!' Severus, who himself had been feeling a growing sense of mild irritation at her repeated failures couldn't find it in himself to blame her for her frustration.

'It's okay, Sophie, take a deep breath and calm yourself down. I understand that this is frustrating for you.' Severus looked at her levelly as she huffed in response and pouted. He himself, was beginning to have a theory as to why there was such a huge discrepancy between the child's written work and her spell casting but he needed to do some research to corroborate it before he spoke to her about it.

'I can't do it! I'll never be able to do it! Maybe Aunt Josephine is right and I'm just a stupid squib. I...' She trailed off as Severus raised a hand in the air to quiet her.

'You are not a squib Sophie…' He began.

'How would you know?' She interrupted and then clapped her hand over her mouth and flinched away from him as if she was expecting a slap for speaking out of turn.

'For Merlin's sake relax child,' Severus snapped, 'perhaps that display of potent wandless magic yesterday showed me that you have magic, or perhaps I have just seen you cast a levitation charm successfully.'

'On my hundredth attempt,' the child sniped back but she looked appeased even so.

'No, you're not a squib, child,' Severus repeated.

'But if I'm not a squib then why do I find it so hard to do spells? Everyone else can do it.'

'You'll get there, Sophie,' Severus told her. 'We will work on it for the rest of the summer, a little bit each day. I'm sure we will begin to see some progress in a few days. Don't forget this is still only the second time that we've attempted this.'

'Am I definitely staying for the rest of the summer then?' The child asked, clearly striving for nonchalance and just missing it.

If someone had told Severus at any other point in his adult life that he would have to spend his summer break caring for a vulnerable eleven-year-old child, he would've been horrified. He would also have been sceptical and would probably have told the person that they were a Knut short of Sickle. However, as much as he had fought to keep himself from getting too attached to this child, in spite of her hostility and the lack of progress, the past week had changed him irrevocably. As much as it pained him to admit it even to himself, he now could not imagine handing this particular child over to the care of anyone else. She belonged here with him, at least for the time being. He realised that her face had fallen slightly as she noticed his hesitation and he hastened to answer her question.

'Yes child, you are my ward now and you are to stay here for the rest of the summer. Is that okay with you?' She nodded, her expression clearing.

Severus wondered what would happen when school reconvened at the beginning of the Autumn term. Would his temporary guardianship over this child end when he resumed his former role as her professor and head of house? Did he want it to end? Once again, the thought of handing over the responsibility for her felt unnatural. Merlin's sake, she was eleven years' old and she was completely alone in the world. Who else would care for her if he did not? But am I ready to be a full-time parent? The thought hit him like a ton of bricks.

'Why don't you take your books back up to your room, Sophie? I think that we've both had enough for one day, don't you?' Mercifully, his voice sounded totally normal, totally calm and collected – the complete opposite to how he was feeling inside. 'Lunch is in half and hour,' he reminded her, as she left the room.

Once the door had closed behind her, Severus dropped his head into his hands, kneading his forehead forcefully until the pain from his forceful massaging distracted him from the overwhelming thoughts flocking through his brain. Then, sitting up abruptly, he occluded his mind, pushing all trace of his worries out of his mind. That was better. He pulled parchment and quill towards himself and started writing a letter to Healer Aspen Fezziwick in St Mungo's.

The rest of the day passed in its usual way – they had lunch, (cheese on toast and apple slices, followed by Cherry Bakewell), and then went for a very damp walk down to the beach. On their return, Sophie retreated to her bedroom, presumably to change into some dry things and to read her new fiction books and Severus went to his office and carried on with his research. At five o'clock, an owl arrived with a reply from St Mungo's requesting an in-person meeting the following afternoon, which left Severus in a bit of a conundrum. Judging by her level of panic and anxiety on their first visit to the hospital, he did not want to subject the child to another, unnecessary, trip to St Mungo's and, at any rate, a private conversation with Healer Fezziwick would be impossible if Sophie was there. However, he did not wish to leave her alone in the house, although he suppose that she wouldn't be entirely alone with Mim there too. What was the etiquette of leaving a child alone with an elf? Severus didn't know. He contemplated sending an owl to the headmistress to ask her if she could come and watch the child for a couple of hours but then remembered that she was currently on her annual trip to the Northern Lakes of Italy. In the end, he waited until the following morning and asked the child at breakfast which option she would be most comfortable with.

Sophie was subdued and quiet again at breakfast – Severus supposed that her low mood was due to a repeat of the previous morning's wet bed scenario when he'd woken her. Although he had reassured her, once again, that it didn't matter and that he wasn't angry, he could tell that she wasn't wholly convinced. He was still sure that the enuresis was due to the trauma she had suffered but nonetheless, he resolved to ask Healer Fezziwick that afternoon if there was anything that she would recommend to help resolve the situation.

'Sophie?' The child stopped picking at her bacon muffin and looked up at him. 'I have a meeting this afternoon at St Mungo's. You can accompany me if you wish although you will have to sit in the waiting room or, if not, you may stay here with Mim. I'll be gone a maximum of a couple of hours.' Her face twisted slightly as he said the name of the hospital and Severus knew before she had even opened her mouth which option she would choose.

'Can I stay here?'

Severus nodded, 'of course, child. Like I said, I'll be gone two hours at most.' He picked up his own sandwich and began to eat.

The morning passed slowly and frustratingly with an hour of Transfiguration and another (slightly less trying) hour of Potions. Sophie was better at Potions – her brewing was above average standard and her written work had frequently earned her top marks in the first-year class. However, she had struggled for the whole of the previous year on the brews that required additional wand-work, whether that was to increase the potency of an ingredient or to set the liquid in the cauldron moving in a particular way. These were the potions they focussed on now. Afterward, they went for a very short, very wet, walk in the garden before making their way inside for lunch. Today, Mim had served up parmesan omelette and salad, followed by strawberries and fruit yoghurt. Severus noticed that the child's appetite, although still poor, was finally starting to improve although she seemed to be picking at the fruit on her plate, her eyes downcast and her expression sullen.

Severus was about to ask whether there was a problem when he caught sight of the clock and realised that he didn't have time – he'd been cutting it very fine as it was, after fitting in that walk before lunch, and now he had to run or he was going to be late for his meeting. Quickly getting to his feet he turned to the child.

'Leave it if you're done, Sophie.' Predictably she scowled at this. 'I'm off to my meeting now. I'll see you in a couple of hours.' The child jumped to her feet too, her face flushing slightly as if she was embarrassed about something.

'Can I use the toilet before you leave?' She asked hesitantly, then quickly threw a 'please' on the end, clearly expecting him to refuse her request if she didn't observe the social niceties. Once again, she was refusing to meet his eyes.

'Er…' Severus, completely at a loss as to what she was talking about, raised an eyebrow. 'I'm sorry, Sophie but why would you feel the need to ask my permission to use the bathroom?' She looked up at him then, her face crimson with shame and embarrassment.

'It doesn't matter, sir, I'm sure I can hold it.' Her voice betrayed her own doubt and uncertainty about her own words.

'Hold it until when, child?' Severus asked, completely nonplussed.

'Until you get back,' the child mumbled, now standing awkwardly on one foot, one hand drifting towards her crotch and looking for all the world like she really needed to go right here and now.

'But why in the name of Merlin would I expect you to do that?' Severus asked, trying to sound as reasonable as possible.

'Because…' She seemed unwilling to go on.

'Because?'

'Because there's no toilet in my room.'

'But why can't you just leave your room to go to the bathroom if you need it?' Severus asked, now fighting to keep his rising irritation at this completely pointless and time-wasting subject, out of his voice. He was going to be late and he hated lateness – it was rude and impolite. 'Or for that matter, use one of the other three facilities we have in this house, not to mention my own private ensuite?' Her eyes flashed defiance at him then.

'Because if I can't open the door, how will I get out?' She demanded and Severus finally caught on. The familiar wave of rising wrath at her previous caregivers crested inside him and he quickly occluded his mind. He could not, however, stop his lip from curling slightly in disgust.

'Child, I am not going to lock you in your bedroom whilst I'm gone.' She looked surprised by this bit of information. 'You may go anywhere in the house, except for the areas that I have specifically asked you to avoid. I would also ask you to remain inside the house, although you may take your books out as far as the bench under the apple tree if the weather improves at all.' He squinted doubtfully out of the window at the massed grey clouds and endless drizzle. 'Does that sound acceptable to you?' The child nodded, her expression clearing.

'Thank you, sir-Severus.'

'That's absolutely okay, Sophie. Now, I'll see you later. Now, go and use the bathroom before you have an accident.' He saw her flush delicately at his words and smirked at her before quickly leaving the room.

Severus arrived, out of breath and with less than thirty seconds to spare, outside Healer Fezziwick's office. He raised his fist to knock but the door was pulled open almost immediately from the inside.

'Ah, good afternoon, Professor Snape, I was expecting you. Please come in.'

'Good afternoon, Healer Fezziwick,' Severus answered smoothly, entering the small office. Her office consisted of a neat, rectangular room, with a large three-cornered desk over under a tall window on which tidy piles of parchment were arranged in orderly stacks. There were several chairs lined up against the walls and two large pot plants – a variety of magical fern that Severus didn't recognise but which hummed very faintly in the background and which, had they been in his office would undoubtably have driven him mad within the hour.

'How are you?' The healer continued, taking the seat behind the desk and gesturing him to take one of the spare chairs. He drew one up to the other side of her desk with his wand and sat down. 'And more to the point, how is Miss Winterchild?'

'Sophie is improving slowly although I'm sorry to report that progress is frustratingly slow with the physical healing.'

'And you're sure that there's no infection?' The healer's voice had turned clinical. Severus shook his head.

'I'm positive that there's no infection – I ran a bacterial diagnostic spell only last night and it came back negative. The wounds are clean. They just don't seem to be healing at anything like the rate I would expect even for the slow muggle-method that we're watching.' Severus replied, scrunching up his forehead in annoyance. Then, realising that he was pulling a face, he smoothed out his expression. The healer was listening to him professionally and without interruption even though she was already aware of these developments (or lack of development) as she had already received his correspondence. 'As I wrote in my letter yesterday, it seems as though the child has been tortured using this barbaric method of medieval punishment for over three years. It is my belief that the wounds inflicted on her by the Witch's Scourge have caused depletion in her magical core that is so substantial and so devastating to her magic that it will be months if not years until it is fully functional again. It may never recover fully.' When Severus had first realised this horrendous information, he had felt more than slightly nauseous at its implications. Now, he realised that thinking about it again still made him feel unwell.

'I was very much interested by the theory that you outlined in your letter,' Healer Fezziwick said, after seeing that he had no more to say for the time being. 'I actually did a little research myself yesterday afternoon and this morning and although there isn't much literature out there on this subject, broadly speaking I can see how and why you have come to this conclusion.'

'The child has had problems performing all magic for the last year,' Severus told her, 'and her body doesn't seem to be healing at even the rate one would expect for a normal muggle, what other conclusion might I have drawn?'

'No, no, I think you're correct,' the healer hastened to interject, 'it's only that there is currently very little literature out there to corroborate your hypothesis.' She sighed and suddenly and in spite of the emotionless and clinical words, she suddenly seemed a whole lot more human and Severus could see the woman behind the lime green scrubs. 'It seems so… so utterly sick and unfair that the poor child should have to go through this on top of the abuse.' She suddenly muttered, in a voice so low that Severus strained to hear her. Then, seemingly shocked by her lack of professionalism, 'I'm sorry, Professor Snape, it's just extremely shocking. I have worked here for nearly twenty years and even during the last war I have never, never seen anything on this scale before.'

'I understand,' Severus hastened to reassure her. 'I live in hope that the perpetrators will be brought to justice eventually.'

'Do you really think that's likely?' She challenged.

'I don't know,' Severus admitted, 'I would hope that our new justice system is perhaps less corrupt than it has been in the past, however, I am also aware that they are already operating at an extremely tight capacity – it will be months, perhaps even years until this goes before the Wizengamot.'

'And in the meantime, they are just going to walk free?'

'Not exactly free as both Sophie's aunt and uncle have been placed on house arrest and both have been suspended from their work until the trial is over.' Severus felt his lip curling and made no effort to control his expression.

'I see, and why hasn't this been in the Prophet? I've been scanning it daily and there's been nothing on the child or her relatives or any of it.'

'Ah, I believe that that is due to Minerva's intervention,' Severus replied. 'She got the Wizengamot to file for a media injunction last week when it all started. I have to say that I agree with her; the child has enough to deal with right now and in the near future without the whole world and sundry knowing all about her predicament.'

'I see,' the healer said again. 'Whilst I obviously agree with the principle, I do struggle with the fact that they are basically getting off Scott-free for the foreseeable future.' Severus nodded but then deliberately changed the subject, bringing it back round to the previous topic.

'Am I right in thinking that there are currently several drug trials happening in this hospital regarding the new Magic Restoration Draft I created last September? I've read about it in Potions Weekly.' She was looking at him with a shrewd expression.

'You are correctly informed.' The way that she answered him was so like his own tone and use of language that Severus smirked at her. 'And that it partly why I wanted us to have this meeting today,' she continued. 'Would you really be prepared to place your ward on the candidate list for a drug trial on a medicine that hasn't yet been fully approved for use?'

'If it was a drug that I myself had a hand in creating and I was sure about its success rate, then yes, I would.' Severus answered swiftly. 'Put it this way, Healer Fezziwick, you know that I have both the means and the wherewithal to treat the child with whatever brews, potions, drafts and spells that I think are best for her condition and you also know that I am likely to get positive results from my methods. I am merely making a formal request because I thought that the hospital might as well use the opportunity as a way of enhancing their knowledge which, forgive me, is patchy at best in this area.'

'Even so, Professor Snape, you are asking a fair amount – the child is eleven years old, she's not even close to the age we usually accept on clinical trials of this nature.' The healer countered.

'I have no qualms in giving her this particular medicine – the results of the preliminary test were outstanding and the theory is sound.' Severus really did not like blowing his own trumpet, but sometimes he nonetheless found himself in situations where it was impossible not to do so. He knew that he had won the argument when she rolled her eyes at him and sighed. Then she pulled a sheaf of parchment towards herself and began scribbling down some notes. In spite of the organised state of her desk and the tidy surroundings, Severus was slightly amused to see that her handwriting was appalling.

'I will go and speak to the head of the Healing Research Department this afternoon,' she said, 'in fact, I think you've probably worked with him in the past. His name is Malcolm Silverhorn.'

'Yes, I've worked with Malcolm on several occasions over the years.'

'From my point of view, I know that you have the child's best interests at heart and so, if both you and Healer Silverhorn are convinced that there are unlikely to be any negative side effects, and if the medical review board and the child welfare board are also happy to proceed, then I will sign the child off as a candidate for the new medicine.' Severus found that he was smiling at her and was rather surprised by himself.

'Thank you very much, Healer Fezziwick.'

'It may take up to a week to clear the medical review board as they are usually up to their eyes in work. However, I will stress to them that this is a matter of extreme urgency.'

'Thank you, Healer Fezziwick,' Severus said again.

'Oh, call me Aspen, please do!'

'Only if you call me Severus,' he replied smoothly, raising an eyebrow. It was her turn to smirk at his response.

Altogether, Severus was extremely pleased by how well this meeting was progressing. Of course, had the response been a negative one, he would've proceeded anyway, but this way he had the hospital on board with his plans. It wasn't as though he cared overly about getting another scientific paper on the Witch's Scourge because that was simply a minor perk compared to helping the child but it was still a good idea to act on his theory in the 'correct' way. It was all going exactly the way he had hoped.

'Was there anything else that I can help you with today, Severus?'

'I did have one other question, completely unrelated but still on the subject of the child.' Severus said. He waited until Aspen had nodded her head for him to continue and carried on. 'Sophie is obviously extremely, extremely mentally traumatised by what has happened to her. I honestly don't believe that I've uncovered the half of it yet, Aspen, and some of it is…' He trailed off, swallowed down the faint, rising nausea and the anger that always seethed below the surface when he thought about it, and then continued. '…some of it is frankly abominable.'

'Like what?'

'Like the fact that they used to lock her in an underground cellar without food, water or light for days on end. Like the fact that her aunt used to force her to drink potions that would ostensibly make her feel better but would actually make her sicker. Like the fact that they denied her the use of a bathroom when she was in need but then punished her when the inevitable happened. Like… oh, rest assured but I could go on, and all on top of the unimaginable physical abuse she was suffering on a daily basis!' Severus broke off, breathing hard through his nose. He was finding it hard to control the rising anger and he took several deep breaths before he spoke again. 'She's actually only just started opening out to me in the last two days,' he admitted. 'It's taken me a week to build any sort of level of trust with her but I think that I'm finally getting somewhere now.' The healer herself had turned a pale shade of green as he spoke but she now swallowed and sat up a little straighter.

'That's good news, Severus, and it will hopefully only continue to improve.' He nodded at her but didn't comment on the tone of forced positivity in her voice. 'I assume that I don't need to remind you to make a note of anything the child tells you? It may not stand up in court but it would be good to have a list, alongside the date and time and situation during which it was said.' Severus nodded and pulled out a black and unremarkable pocket book labelled Potions Ingredients.

'Like this, you mean?' He said, tapping it once with his wand and then opening it onto the first page on which he had made a note of the child's first ever disclosure: 'Don't you understand that they'll kill me if I say anything?'

'Yes indeed, Severus,' Aspen said, nodding approvingly, 'now, what was it that you wanted to ask me?'

'I actually wanted to ask you about a delicate matter. The child is suffering from nocturnal enuresis, sometimes multiple times per night. Understandable I know after what she has gone through, but in spite of my telling her so and also telling her that it doesn't matter, she is finding it hard to bear.'

'I'm not at all surprised,' the healer said, looking pained.

'At first, the wet beds seemed to come hand in hand with nightmares, but since she has started accepting dreamless sleep potions off me before sleeping, they are still happening. Is there anything that you can recommend?' The healer was shaking her head before he had finished speaking.

'To be honest, Severus, there isn't a lot you can do to stop this at this point. We know that there is no medical issue and that it is purely down to the trauma she's suffered. I suggest that you continue as you are - be compassionate and gentle about the situation. She will most likely need constant reminders that it is understandable and that you aren't angry about it. You might try protective underwear, I suppose, but then that might also make her feel even worse about it. You know her best so I would advise you to play that one by ear. It might just be better to continue as you are and change the sheets as unobtrusively as possible and remind her that it will improve as time goes on.' Severus nodded, unsurprised by the woman's response – he'd done a little reading on the subject over the past week and come to much the same conclusion himself. 'I suppose that she is also displaying other signs of emotional trauma?'

'She's had two panic attacks,' Severus admitted. 'She also blew out my office window when her magic got out of control. If I'm honest, I was actually quite impressed that her magic reserves were high enough for such a spectacle.'

'That actually gives me hope that her magic isn't irrevocably damaged,' the healer said, suddenly looking less grave and Severus nodded, feeling slightly cheered himself. 'Have a calming draft on hand at all times but maybe try other methods too as we don't want her to become dependent on potions to control her emotions - perhaps meditation and breathing exercises would be a good place to start? Do you have any essential oils?'

'Minerva, I mean Professor McGonagall has got her some aromatherapy candles, Severus replied, nodding.

'Also, perhaps I don't need to remind you but most dreamless sleep potions…'

'Only work on a short-term basis.' Severus finished her sentence for her and they both chuckled humourlessly. 'No, I am aware of that and I intend to use them for a week to ten days and then start weaning her off. She needs some healing rest in the meantime. Honestly, she was managing perhaps three or four hours a night at most without.' He chuckled again, somehow sounding even grimmer than before. 'We were both exhausted.'

'You're doing a fabulous job,' the healer suddenly said. Severus, suddenly finding himself feeling slightly hot around the face and neck waved her compliment aside.

'No, I…' He had never been good at accepting compliments and today was no different.

'You are, Professor Snape!' Aspen insisted, 'what you are undertaking is honestly one of the hardest things that anyone can do. Not many would be able to care for a child so damaged.'

'I think I sometimes lack the patience,' Severus admitted, as much to himself as to the healer sitting opposite him.

'From what I saw when you brought her here that first day, I think you are doing a great job,' the healer said again. 'No, you won't get everything right the first time and you will undoubtably make mistakes but I honestly think that you are exactly what this child needs right now.'

****SW****

It was a totally new experience for Sophie to be left alone and with free reign to go anywhere she liked (excluding of course the forbidden office and laboratory). For the first ten minutes after Snape had left, she felt almost uncomfortable, as if she didn't quite trust herself because what if, after all that, she did something wrong – she might break something by mistake or go somewhere that he'd forgotten to tell her wasn't allowed? In the end, she went back to her bedroom, making a detour to the bathroom enroute. She felt her face growing slightly hot again as she peed and washed her hands as she thought back over her last conversation with the Potions Master but after all, how could she have been expected to know that he wasn't going to lock her in her bedroom? It had seemed better to ask, rather than risk the alternative. Sophie shuddered as she remembered her aunt locking her bedroom for an entire afternoon whilst the rest of the family attended a neighbour's garden party. When her aunt had returned to find that her niece hadn't been able to hold it and was sat, shamefaced in a puddle in the corner of the room, she had been furious and Sophie had been put in the cellar for the next five days as a punishment.

Sophie relaxed slightly once the door to her bedroom had swung shut behind her because the risk of breaking something in here seemed that much less likely and at any rate the things in here were predominantly things that Snape had bought for her. She'd been getting on quite well with both The Hobbit and Katya Thornberry and the Stone Circle but she couldn't seem to settle with either of them this afternoon. When she finally gave up trying to read, she crossed over to the bookshelf and started pawing through the jumble of wizarding games and toys that Snape had placed on the bottom shelf. Her hand fell on the brown paper bag that the headmistress had brought her the day before yesterday and she found herself emptying the objects out onto the centre of the green rug in front of the fireplace. Picking up the candle, she read the instructions, written in a curly hand on the side: Light with one tap of your wand. Add one drop of your chosen fragrance. Enjoy. Did candle lighting count as magic? Sophie wasn't sure and she decided almost instantly that she wasn't going to risk it. Snape had made it perfectly clear that he was able to supervise her spell work these holidays but he'd said nothing about her using her wand when he wasn't present. Perhaps she would ask him later whether he would light it for her, or if not, maybe she could light it from the fire later as the temperature was still unseasonably chilly for the end of July and Mim was lighting the fires around the house as a matter of course as the evening chill crept through the rooms each day. Instead, she picked up the leather-bound sketch bad and the coloured quills. Curling herself up on the armchair, she looked slightly distastefully out of the window at the rain lashed garden and the cliff top fields and steely grey sea beyond. There was nothing particularly inspiring there and, at any rate, Sophie wasn't sure if she should attempt something as ambitious seeing as she had never painted anything in her live before. Well, she supposed, selecting the black quill, she hadn't done any painting since she'd gone to stay with her aunt and uncle. Before that, her mum had frequently shoved a pile of old parchment scraps and a handful of quills at her in order to keep her quiet as she worked. Sophie would scribble away in her den under the potions bench, whilst her mum brewed her potions in the cauldrons simmering above her daughter's head. The memory made Sophie feel sad now.

She drew a picture of a cat curled up on an old cloak under a bench in a potions laboratory. On the bench above the cat was a simmering cauldron, steam and coloured vapour rising in spirals above the multicoloured liquid inside, and a few ingredients scattered here and there across bench and the chair. Spell books were piled in one corner, spilling haphazardly across the floor. In spite of the mess and the surrounding chaos, the cat slumbered peacefully on. Sophie carefully coloured in its fur, turning it into a windswept grey tabby like the one they'd had when she still lived with her mother. He'd been very old when she'd been born, nearly fifteen years old and he'd spent most of the last years of his life curled comfortably on an old cloak under the potions bench next to Sophie, occasionally twitching in his sleep as he dreamed of mice. Occasionally he would get up, stretch and make a tour of the laboratory and then the potions garden if the weather was decent, returning almost immediately to his favourite spot under the bench. He'd died peacefully in his sleep at the end of a perfect summer's day, the year before her mother had died. Sophie remembered sobbing as they buried him in the garden of their small, ramshackle cottage – her mother had insisted that he'd had a good life (whilst crying her own eyes out). That night, they had washed his old cloak, folded it up and placed on a shelf out of the way at the top of the ingredients' cupboard. Her mum had promised that they would get a kitten come the spring. His name had been Pickle.

There had been no kitten – by the following spring her mother had been up to her eyes in work for the Death Eaters and Sophie spent most of her time alone in her bedroom as the potions her mum was brewing now were too dangerous for her to be allowed anywhere near. Then, that summer, her mother had gone to the Department of Mysteries and she had never returned and Sophie's life had been turned upside down. Sophie blinked as her eyes smarted, swallowing down the tears rising in her throat. For the first time ever, she was pleased when Mim, apparating out of thin air beside her, made her jump nearly out of her skin.

'Don't do that!' She snarled at him, quickly dashing a hand across her eyes in case there was any residual moisture.

'Mim is sorry, young Miss. Mim was wondering if you be wanting any coco or snacks?' By this point Sophie knew that the elf was easiest to get rid of if you agreed that you did want whatever it was that he was offering. If you told him 'no', he would simply try to offer you something else and the conversation would go round in circles.

'I'll have some…' Sophie racked her brains, 'can I have a biscuit and some milk?' He'd vanished before she could even think to add on a 'please'. The elf probably wouldn't care but she was glad that Snape hadn't been about to reprimand her for her lack of manners.

The elf returned almost immediately with two homemade oat biscuits and a glass of creamy milk, which he placed on the desk and then, bowing low, he vanished once more. Sophie absentmindedly reached out for one of the biscuits and nibbled experimentally on its edge. She was surprised to find that it was so delicious that she finished it, and the other too, in just a few minutes. It was still remarkable to her that she could find an appetite again so soon after a meal; even during the previous year at school, she had struggled with the regularity of mealtimes three times per day and had usually skipped one or two of them every day. Usually, she would attend breakfast, skip lunch completely and then sometimes turn up for dinner if the mood took her. Sophie knew that her behaviour was down to the fact that she was so used to missing meals, or else having to eke out the food she was given for days on end. She'd found that it was just easier to not get used to having regular meals because her stomach got used to being empty and she stopped feeling the hunger pains. If she didn't stretch her stomach too much during term time, it made it so much more bearable when she was back under the clutches of her aunt and uncle and the food was scarce again.

She looked critically down at her painting and decided that it was finished. She wondered about carefully ripping it out of the sketchpad and sticking it to the wall but then Snape would see it and she wasn't sure she was ready for that just yet. She would've expected the old Snape to curl his lip and say something disparaging and although this new Snape would probably not be unkind about her artistic skills, she wasn't prepared to risk it. At any rate, she didn't want to answer any questions about the picture at this moment in time. So, after checking the ink was completely dry, she closed the sketch pad and placed it on the bottom shelf of the bookcase, underneath a pile of spare parchment. Then, she went back to the armchair, drank the milk that Mim had brought her and tried Katya Thornberry and the Stone Circle again.

An abrupt knock on her bedroom door roused her out of a heroic adventure with two mountain trolls and she started upright as the bedroom door swung open and Snape strode into the room, his hair damp and windswept.

'Good afternoon, Sophie.' She gave him a tentative smile in return but his greeting suddenly seemed a bit formal and a bit awkward. 'How are you getting on with that story?' He enquired, coming to stand beside her chair. Sophie smiled up at him, a proper smile this time.

'It's really good! Katya has just gone into the cave to find the amulet to banish the Runespoor that's terrorizing her village and she's been ambushed by two trolls.' Snape chuckled drily at her enthusiasm.

'I remember that bit. Just wait until you get to the next chapter...' He trailed off suggestively and then peered closer at the colour print on her open page for several seconds, apparently lost in memory. It showed two trolls brandishing their clubs whilst the tiny Katya ducked and weaved between them, sending coloured jets of light towards them from her wand, Then, he seemed to pull himself together. 'I almost wish I could read it again myself.'

'Well, why can't you?' Sophie asked, then hesitated, wondering if she'd been slightly cheeky. 'I won't tell anyone if you don't.' Snape chuckled again and raised an eyebrow at her.

'Maybe I'll borrow it from you then when you've moved on to the sequel.'

'There's a sequel?'

'There is indeed, two in fact.' Straightening up again, he turned back towards the bedroom door. 'Listen child, I only came in to inform you that I had returned. I was going to ask if you wanted another game of chess before dinner but I won't disturb you if you're engrossed in your book.' Sophie grabbed the scrap of old parchment that she was using as a bookmark and jumped to her feet too fast. She hissed as the abrupt movement pulled at her back.

'No! I'd like to play!'

'Merlin, child, have I not told you to be careful,' Snape murmured, putting out a hand to steady her. 'Very well, let's go downstairs, slowly, and I'll get Mim to light the fire in the living room. It seems to be getting dark out there already.' Sophie glanced out of the window at the huge mass of black rainclouds that obscured the sun. Of course, sunset was more than four hours off but the weather suggested otherwise. Taking Snape's advice and moving slowly and carefully, she followed him out of the room and downstairs to the living room.

Hi everyone. Merry Christmas! Thank you very much for the inspiring reviews and PMs. The next chapter will be up at some point in January. For those readers who remembered the character of Malcom Silverhorn again (also in the Tansy Laverstock stories, Not One Word and Hope), well done!