Year Four: Draught of Deception

Year Four: Draught of Deception

The two summer months of isolation were always too short for Snape to feel completely rejuvenated. It seemed that something always came along to disrupt what little time he got for himself. This time it was the late summer news of Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban. There was a short burst of alarm as Snape wondered what could have driven a man, after nearly thirteen years of incarceration under the most crushing and soul-defeating punishment, to gather what little strength was left and break free. It had taken a very short time behind the walls of Azkaban for Snape to understand that the point of confinement there was not exile but annihilation. He had wanted out as badly as anyone possibly could, but he lacked both the strength and the clarity of mind to figure out a way to slip free. He took the only way out he knew.

So, what had spurred Black to escape now of all times? And how had he done it? More importantly, where was he going, and what was he looking for?

Shortly after arriving at Hogwarts, Dumbledore called a meeting in which he addressed this very subject. The Headmaster's theory was intriguing, but Snape had doubts about it. What would Sirius Black want with Harry Potter at this point, even if he was his godson? Apparently the Ministry and Azkaban itself agreed with Dumbledore's presumption because the staff was informed that they would be playing host to Dementors, the guards of the most ominous dungeon on earth. All were assured that the soul-sucking vipers would be limited to the outside of the grounds. However, the very idea of being anywhere near those apparitions of evil again made Snape's insides turn to liquid. If he had wanted to ever be faced with them once more, he would have kept his mouth shut and lived out his remaining days as a soulless pile of rotting flesh inside a jail cell.

Right after the informal meeting, Dumbledore asked for a moment of Snape's time. The old wizard waited until he was sure they were alone and then reminded Snape of his offer of help for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. His hopes rose momentarily when he thought that perhaps Lupin wasn't able to perform his duties for the year after all. Perhaps an episode had already occurred on the train ride from London.

No, Dumbledore wanted Snape to actually help Lupin. Help him. Brew a Wolfsbane Potion to counteract the effects of the transformation on Lupin's mind. All this trouble to make the man safe and sane enough to teach a class Snape could easily handle with no help from anyone. The Headmaster saw the tell-tale angry twitch of Snape's lip and attempted to sooth the latest desecration of his ego.

"This would be an immense favor to me, Severus," he began earnestly. "I realize that there are years of bad history between you and Remus over things that happened at this very school. But it is all history, in the past. You are both now working for a common good. And I do indeed need you both to work together."

'Yes,' Snape seethed inwardly, 'remind me once again of how I'm forever indebted to you for getting me out of Azkaban, and demand one more favor, one more concession, and keep demanding until I am little more than an empty shell Dementors would hardly recognize.'

Much to his own self loathing, Snape found himself agreeing respectfully to undertake the project of helping a man he detested in assuming one of the few things he most desired.

When finally alone in his office, Snape used a Silencing Charm on his door and proceeded to break everything made of glass within his reach.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

By the time of the beginning of the year feast and sorting, Snape was calmed, clean, and under control. Mock-Thistle Wine was a wondrous concoction. The soothing taste of wine and the relaxing sensation of a calming draught with no aggravating side effects of drunkenness. No one was the wiser. And if Dumbledore noticed, as a wizard of his experience could if he were to pay close enough attention, he gave Snape a pass on any censure.

Once again, Snape found his eyes passing over his own Slytherin students to search the Ravenclaw table for any sign of the dark-haired creature who had monopolized far too much of his time and thoughts for the past four years. Most of the taller, dark heads he momentarily focused on were males. It looked like many of Davindra's classmates were finally starting to catch up to her height. Eventually his eyes found her.

Her trademark black tresses blocked the view of her face from him. But Snape knew to wait. She would know he was there. She would feel his eyes calling to her. And soon, she did pause in her conversation and turn to look directly at him.

Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was the disregard he was feeling for Hogwarts's propriety, but he held her gaze steadily when she turned her intense pale eyes to him.

There was something different in those eyes. Sadness. Suffering. A keen awareness of pain and loss. Snape remembered the conversation with Lillyth Sparrow. Davindra was coping with a seriously ill parent. It would cause a change in anyone. The message her eyes conveyed was so strong that Snape made a split second decision.

'Legilimens,' Snape commanded silently. He felt Davindra easily let him in to her thoughts, as though it was what she had wanted from the moment she had looked at him.

A rush of images came at Snape. Her mother telling her that her father's illness was terminal. Madame Collins telling her that no matter what she was feeling, she must remember her purpose. Lovely Lillyth Sparrow comforting her granddaughter with warm arms and soothing words. An overwhelming feeling of despair and helplessness as Davindra cried alone in her bed.

Then Davindra's own words spoke to him. 'It's been horrible. I'm so glad you're here.'

The shock of her communicating to him through his mind probe and the sound of Dumbledore calling for the house sorting to begin brought Snape out of his spell. With their visual connection also broken, he found himself wishing for more of the Mock-Thistle Wine to steady his nerves. All he had was the weak mead Hogwarts supplied the staff with their evening meals, but he drank it eagerly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In accordance with Dumbledore's request, Snape began on the Wolfsbane Potion. The new year of classes and the updates on the latest spottings of Sirius Black kept him quite busy. His contact with Davindra was limited to the class times for the first week.

Her popularity had indeed risen in the past four years. Now she seemed to have a number of both females and males around her at nearly all times. Though she still did laugh and chatter like the rest, often there was a heavy oppression that clung to her demeanor. The haughty and sometimes mocking smile didn't appear with the frequency Snape had previously known. Those usually hypnotic, green eyes mostly held a weary, hopeless cast.

On an unseasonably warm weekend day, soon after school had started, everyone took advantage of the brilliant sunshine and gathered outside. Even the staff ventured out to wander through the grounds. Many clusters of students congregated under trees or played makeshift games of Quidditch. Others milled near the edge of the Black Lake.

Snape stood inside the sheltered walkways and gazed out at the happy groups. Many had donned Muggle summer clothes for the last time of the year. One such troop of females stood at the lakeshore, Davindra being amongst them. She stood with her back to him, her inky black hair whipping about in the breeze and sporting a pair of impossibly short shorts.

'Merlin's balls, if those skinny legs of hers get any longer, she'll end up as tall as Hagrid,' Snape thought to himself. If he had any say in the matter, clothing of that sort wouldn't even be allowed at Hogwarts, no matter what the weather.

Apparently he was not the only one to notice Davindra. Pebbles being chucked in her direction drew her attention to Draco Malfoy and his group. There was a playful exchange of words that Snape didn't quite hear, but he was sure that Malfoy was not using the term "Mudblood" this time. Finally, Davindra stooped to gather a handful of tiny rocks from the shore and wing them with great force at the boys. The girls laughed, and the boys scattered, but not without dashing grins and long backward looks at the slender form still at the water's edge.

The expected hormonal charging of boys and girls was beginning. Now Snape felt he had something else to be secretly watchful over. Draco Malfoy and perhaps every other young buck would have a hard time resisting a burgeoning Veela temptress with little control over her powers of seduction and seemingly unaware of her blossoming beauty. Snape wasn't sure who deserved protection more, her or the young men who fell under her spell.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When the first batch of Wolfsbane Potion was done, Snape sent word to Lupin, whom he had been avoiding with much calculated care since the term began. They had exchanged wary looks and mumbled greetings during the beginning of year feast, but as of yet had not spoken at length.

When the two were finally face to face, Snape eyed his former nemesis carefully. Lupin carried a look of eternal exhaustion. Thin, jagged scars peppered his face and neck. But there was still a comical glimmer in his eye as he regarded Snape.

"I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude," he spoke with a reserved smile.

"Let's not pretend that this arrangement is anything other than what it is," Snape said coldly, his dark eyes boring into Lupin. "This was done as a favor to Dumbledore. Personally, I couldn't care less if you morphed into your true drooling, howling self and stayed there."

Snape held out a goblet of still steaming potion. Lupin gave a wistful smile as he took it in his hand, then looked back to the dark man before him.

"Severus, there are a lot of things I should apologize for, I'm sure. But I wouldn't even know how to begin."

"Then don't bother."

"I'd really hate for us to be mature adults, teaching together at our alma mater, and still harboring juvenile grudges."

Snape's only response was a crippling, iron stare.

Lupin sighed. "You know I could have my grudges to hold also. Two of my dearest friends and countless others lost their lives fighting against your dark master."

This brought Snape out of his stoic stance. Charging to within a few inches of Lupin, he growled, "Why is it that I have to constantly be reminded of my mistakes and be made to pay for them continuously? Why is it that I get to shoulder the blame for the Potters's death now that the Dark Lord is no longer around?"

Lupin said nothing but met Snape's stare with resolve.

"And why is it that no one wants to remember all I sacrificed to make amends and contribute to the downfall of the Dark Lord? Instead I am sentenced to spend my time serving those who wish to condemn me and getting not thanks but questions still of my loyalty."

A few more moments of deadly stare passed between them before Lupin finally broke the look by stepping back away from the confrontation.

"I do very much appreciate your help," he said holding up the potion. "And I am very sorry about the things we did to you years ago. We were stupid, arrogant, senseless kids. If I could do it over again differently, I would. I know that you are an excellent teacher and that Dumbledore trusts you implicitly. That's enough for me."

Lupin threw the potion down his throat and swallowed quickly, giving a grimace of revulsion at the taste, then turned to go.

Snape felt unaffected by his attempt at kindness. There were no words to mend the past.

"Remus," he called before the man got past the door. "If you run into your old chum, Sirius, while knocking over rubbish bins with your pack, you will let us know, won't you?"

Lupin gave a stony look but no words as he exited the office. Snape was left with a slight feeling of satisfaction and an insuppressible, icy smile.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape kept expecting Madame Collins to pop up at any time during those first few weeks at Hogwarts. Not since she had dropped the memory on his desk at the end of last year had he seen her. But he swore he could feel her lurking just in the shadows, perhaps mingling with the Dementors, waiting to pounce. Still unsure what she intended with her latest gift and not certain how the issue of her son's ailing health was being handled, Snape chose to keep silent also.

The next day after fourth year Potions class, he noticed Davindra lagging behind, waiting for everyone to leave the classroom. Snape watched her, knowing what she would say.

"I suppose you are here regarding this year's tutoring?" he asked.

That familiar, alluring, shy smile popped on to her face. Snape had to admit it was almost refreshing to see the dismal sadness gone if only for a moment. She walked from her desk to the front of the room, coming to stand much too close to him for comfort. But he didn't move, only gazed down his hooked nose into her metallic green eyes, careful to keep every part of him stone cold and impassable.

"Grandmother said I needed to be especially sharp this year," she said brightly. "She said we should at least be working on seventh year practices."

Lillyth Sparrow had been right, Snape thought. Demelza was indeed intent on pushing this girl all the harder, no matter if her father was dying a slow, painful death.

"She also gave me a list of books we should try." Davindra drew a folded paper from her robe pocket and held it in front of Snape's face playfully.

Her eyes twinkled as she waved it slightly and leaned in to whisper, "I think some of them may be restricted."

Snape's hard, black eyes never left hers as he slowly reached up then snatched the paper from her hand.

"I'm sure your grandmother has everything nicely planned for us," he began calmly. "But as usual, she has not taken into consideration my time in this issue. I have several matters this year that will be needing my utmost attention. However, I will see what can be arranged. I may have a few special projects that you could assist me in."

Her smile broadened and he was struck with the dreaded, anxious feeling of having the air sucked from his body when she looked into him the way she did just then. She dared to step closer, and it seemed she was about to touch him when Snape quickly flung himself away from her and strode to his desk.

"Come to my office tomorrow evening at six," he said as he busied himself stacking books in no particular order. "I have something you can attempt."

Her eyes drifted over him. He could feel it like sand pouring over his bare skin. Finally she turned to go.

"Miss Collins?" Snape called.

She stopped and gave him an expectant look.

He wasn't sure how to approach the subject, but he knew he needed to say something about what he had seen when he had looked into her mind the night of the feast.

"You are... doing well?"

She cocked her head questioningly, like a cat.

"I ran into Lillyth Sparrow this past summer. She told me about your father."

A slightly sad smile touched her lips for a moment as she said, "I believe I already told you how I was doing."

Again they stood staring into one another for several silent moments.

"Of course, you know that if the need arises, there are exceptions that can be made for students in extenuating familial circumstances," he spoke quietly, carefully.

She nodded, and the serene sadness Snape had witnessed in recent times returned to her face.

"As Grandmother says, hard work is what would be best for me now. Keep my mind busy and active, and I won't have time to be sad."

Though she said it with conviction, there was a bitter edge to her voice. Snape could just imagine Demelza's mantra of endlessly high expectations in constant bombardment of the young girl's emotionally saturated brain. The old woman was truly ruthless.

Snape searched himself for words of comfort to feed Davindra, but found he had none. He was not used to doling out kindnesses. Neither could he sympathize with the loss of an endearing father. He had wished his own dead of some horrible Muggle disease more times than he could count. So, he simply nodded to her to indicate her dismissal.

Again, her eyes clung to him, though her body turned away. In a slow spin, her hair fanned away from her then settled back against her shoulders and fell into a rhythmic wave with her steps. To his chagrin, Snape found it impossible to not watch the way she exited the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The potion he began Davindra on was one of the calming draughts from Tom Riddle's book. And though a few of the ingredients seemed misplaced, for the most part, it appeared innocuous enough to Snape that he felt there was no danger in her trying it on her own. The idea pleased Davindra greatly, and her eyes sparkled when he presented her with the task. She eagerly dove into preparing the ingredients and worked efficiently and silently until her voice commanded Snape out of his deep thoughts

"Tell me about Sirius Black."

He looked over to find her wrapping her long hair into a knot at the back of her head as she readied her cauldron for the fire. She then stood with hands on hips, her eyes searched him with a excitement.

"He's an insane, dangerous criminal who will soon be brought to justice," Snape delivered quickly, not certain where her desire for this topic came from.

Davindra sighed loudly. "Everyone knows that much. He was in Azkaban for working for the Dark Lord. But you knew him, didn't you?"

Snapes eyes snapped up at her.

"I mean, you went to school together. You're about the same age, I'm guessing." She pointed to the Hogwarts diploma that sat almost hidden on one of the many cluttered shelves of his office.

Snape's eyes focused on the diploma for a while, allowing himself to only briefly remember the many times he crossed paths with not only Sirius Black but the rest of his merry band of bullies.

"Yes, we were in school at the same time," Snape replied quickly, returning to his reading.

"What was he like? Was he an evil dark supporter even then?"

Snape's eyes gazed up to see Davindra looking far more interested and engrossed in the gossip he might let slip than the potion she was supposed to be brewing.

"As a matter of fact, he was always skirting the edges of malevolence. I'm not the least bit surprised that he ended up in Azkaban."

"But you ended up in Azkaban," Davindra stated so plainly that Snape felt himself wince.

"I think that's enough chit chat, Miss Collins," Snape snapped so bitterly it caused her to flinch. "I'd suggest that you keep that pointed little nose of yours out of other people's business and stick it back into that cauldron and do what you are here for."

His razor-like glare held her in a wary silence as she went back to concocting the calming draught, though her large, pale eyes did periodically dare to glance back to see if he still nursed an icy rage.

Neither spoke until she announced that the brewing was finished, and all that was left was a cooling time before it was bottled. Snape nodded curtly and excused her. Davindra began to leave but stopped at the door and turned as if to speak. A cold warning from his dark eyes told her to not bother.

Instead she smiled meekly and pushed the bangs from her eyes before she cleared her throat and said, "Goodnight then, sir," in a soft voice.

Snape felt a small amount of tension leave his body when the clank of the latch sounded that she was gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He desired to put some distance between them to ease the emotional jangling she tended to inflict. Also, not wishing to dislodge any more probing questions of his past and how it might intertwine with Sirius Black, Snape took to mostly handing out reading assignments for Davindra's tutoring. Sometimes it was nothing more than an interesting article he had read on new uses for toadstools or advances in wand making. The tactic didn't keep her from his doorstep or from ambushing him outside the staff room with comments and further research on the topics.

It seemed that she was taking her grandmother's words to heart and throwing herself fully into her schoolwork. Every night she could be found in the library poring over books, polishing up her homework, and even offering her help to others when hers was done. Soon a weariness began to show that even the other teachers noticed.

Flitwick, Davindra's head of house, came to Snape specifically to inquire if he might ease up on the extra work that was assumed to be the cause for her constant slaving. Snape assured the diminutive Charms teacher that he had in fact limited the extra work and that Davindra seemed to be pushing herself of her own accord. Flitwick seemed quite worried and wondered if Dumbledore should be consulted. Snape stated that Davindra might be suffering from some lack of sleep, but she was a manic sort of child, who seemed to thrive on burying herself a multitude of tasks. If her health appeared to suffer further, or if there was a drastic change, then perhaps Dumbledore should be involved. In the mean time, the Headmaster was much too involved with the issue of Black's escape to be bothered with tedious subjects. Flitwick asked Snape to keep an eye on her, since she seemed to constantly shadow after him. There was a curious flicker to the dwarf's button eyes, and Snape glared in challenge for him to speak his thoughts. There was only an uncomfortable silence, which Snape broke by saying he would do the best he could to ensure Davindra didn't risk injury to her health. Pacified, Flitwick left with a quick, suspicious glance as he pulled the door behind him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At Halloween it was reported that Sirius Black had breeched the secure guard surrounding Hogwarts and made it behind the school walls. A thorough search found nothing, though Snape would have loved to have been the one to find Black. His first thought was to search under Lupin's desk, since it seemed that the most logical way into Hogwarts was to be let in by someone on the inside. Lupin and Black had been quite devoted in their youth. Even now, despite the charges against Black, Snape doubted that would have changed.

All through his hunt up and down the corridors and into rooms not entered for years, Snape's mind played with what it would be like to come face to face with another of his enemies from time past. It would be tempting to exact some revenge before anyone else even knew about his capture. But extracting some useful information would also be highly tempting. As the night dragged on, it became apparent, much to Snape's disappointment, that Black had fled Hogwarts. He was the Dementors' issue now.

Students all slept in the Great Hall for the night. Safety in numbers, Dumbledore said. And also to ease their minds. However, Snape suspected it was to keep an easier eye on Harry Potter. No one would dare take a swipe at him in a room full of witnesses. In the small hours of the night, Snape reported back to the Headmaster among the slumbering forms. They spoke of Black, and Snape's specific concerns about Lupin, but his eyes played about looking for Davindra's body among the many scattered over the vast hall.

When Dumbledore left, Snape allowed himself a moment to walk the rows of sleeping bags, his eyes casually in search of her. Quickly, she was spotted. She wasn't asleep, nor did she pretend to be as many of the students seemed to be doing. She rolled from her side to gaze up at him, her hair fanned about her like a cape, her long, pale arms rested outside the covers. The dim starlight of the Great Hall enchanted ceiling cast her in a soft, ethereal glow.

He resisted the urge to kneel, brush the hair from her forehead, and feel the warmth of her brow beneath his lips. Instead, he solemnly looked down, a single thought slithering its way from his mind to hers; She was not to worry, but to sleep, for nothing could harm her during his vigilant guard. A soft, slight smile, and drowsy eyes responded. Davindra turned to her side once again, her fingers brushed against his boot in a deliberate caress as she settled to pull the blanket over her shoulders. Snape dared only stand a second longer before walking silently on to continue his patrol.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Strange occurrences were the norm for Hogwarts, it seemed. But not for Snape. His classes, Slytherin house, his students, and his rooms were in exact order so he always knew what went on where, and the exact location of everything at all times. It was the only way Snape allowed things to be in his life.

The moment he walked into his office, he could sense someone had been there. There was not a book or bottle out of place, nor anything missing, but he could feel the residue of someone's magic in the air. His first thought was of Davindra snooping in his personal belongings. But whoever did this was extremely careful, more so than a young, eager girl could ever be.

His next thought was of Sirius Black. But Snape doubted that even if Black managed to get back into Hogwarts he would have a desire for anything in Snape's office.

Curious as it was, Snape could not reason it out. Nor could he find anyone to pin the intrusion on, especially with no proof. Not even Harry Potter and his little tribe of followers could realistically be considered. Deciding he would mention it to Dumbledore when he had the chance, he set the matter aside and began using a heavier anti-intruder spell on his doors even during school hours.

Days later, when he noticed a few supplies missing from his closet, Snape felt renewed rage. Someone was taking him for a fool, and he was determined to put a stop to it. An elaborate intruder charm was placed on the supply closet. If anyone were to attempt to set foot in it, Snape would know. An Alarmist Crystal was carried with him at all times. When it felt warm and filled with black smoke, the charm would have been set off and the thief would be unable to leave the closet until Snape released them. He was quite anxious to get his hands on whoever the culprit might be. If it were Potter or any part of his crew, Snape had a variety of punishments set aside especially for them.

Davindra continued her tireless pace. Snape watched carefully, but from a distance, as she began to become hollow eyed and gaunt. Finally, Madam Pince found her passed out over her books in the library, and Davindra was forced into bed rest for a few days in the hospital wing.

A scathing owl from Madame Collins and another voicing careful concern from Lillyth Sparrow made Snape feel as though he were being held responsible for Davindra's ill health. He replied to neither message and instead sulked with a bottle of elf-made wine and contemplated whether he actually did shoulder any blame.

It took a while before Snape mustered up the nerve to go see her. He gathered the last few days of Potions homework, as well as the latest issue of Potions Weekly, to take her.

Cautiously, he walked into the hospital ward, glancing about in the hopes there was no one around to witness his visit. As he started toward the only occupied bed in the vast room, Snape saw that another person sat on the edge talking with Davindra. Draco Malfoy was perched close to her blanket wrapped legs, smiling as they spoke in quiet tones. Davindra also smiled, giving more life to her face than Snape had seen in several weeks.

He stopped to stare at the two who quickly realized that they were being watched. Both turned to look at him with almost startled expressions. Malfoy quickly got up.

"Well, I gotta be going, Davi," he said as he cleared his throat nervously and began to leave. "I'll catch up with you when you get out of here. Feel better, okay?" He gave a small wave as he walked on.

Malfoy stopped momentarily to exchange looks with Snape. Both eyed each other carefully before mumbling greetings, then moving on.

Snape's focus stayed on the boy until he left the room, then turned back to Davindra who sat in bed beaming at the sight of him.

"Professor," she purred as she drew her legs up in an invitation for him to take Malfoy's place on the bed.

Snape didn't accept the enticement. He remained at a safe distance, standing near the foot of her bed.

"Miss Collins, I assume you are feeling better?" he asked.

Her face had gained some color, and her eyes seemed to have recaptured a bit of their sparkle. Her black hair hung lose around her shoulders like heavy drapery. She smiled sweetly and hugged her knees to her chest.

"I'm better, yes." Her eyes went to the books in his hand. "What did you bring me?"

"Don't get too excited. It's only your Potions homework and a magazine with an interview with a wizard who is working on a new strain of Mandrake." Snape tossed the books onto her bed.

They regarded one another for several silent moments until Snape finally realized he couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer.

"What was Draco Malfoy doing here?" he asked with overt composure.

"He was just visiting," Davindra replied.

"A Slytherin befriending a Ravenclaw. Will wonders never cease?" Snape remarked. "Correct me if I'm mistaken, but wasn't it Draco Malfoy who tricked you into a mud puddle and called you names?"

"That was over two years ago. He's different now. Several of the Slytherins are actually pretty nice." Davindra reached to her bedside table for a box of Honeydukes's chocolates. "Except that Pansy Parkinson. Ugh, I hate her! If I catch her giving me that nasty look again, I swear I'll hex her hair off." She popped a candy into her mouth and chewed leisurely as she peered up at Snape.

"Gifts from admirers?" he asked, his eyes moving over the piles of candy, vases of flowers, and various stuffed toys that littered her side tables.

Davindra nodded. "Though Granny Lilly sent me this." She pulled out a little fairy doll that began to dance back and force in her hand and sing in a high, squeaky voice.

"Charming," he winced. "Make it stop."

She put it back, seeing that he wasn't impressed.

"And Grandmother has sent an owl every day. She said she'd come if I wanted her to. But I'm guessing I don't need her. She said you would look out for me. But you already told me that yourself." There was the return of her coquettish smile "Would you like to sit down, Professor?" Her eyes darted to the edge of the bed nearest him.

"No," he said flatly, an uncomfortable tightness beginning in his stomach. "It seems you are nearly back to normal. You will be returning to class soon?"

"Madam Pomfrey said I could leave tomorrow."

"Then I will expect to see you in Potions." Snape turned sharply to leave, then stopped and looked back. "Miss Collins, I don't ever want to see you in here again," he said quietly. "Do be more careful where your health is concerned."

She sat motionless; her slight smile spoke that she read him easily.

Snape continued on his exit, his feet not working fast enough to remove him from her penetrating scrutiny.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Even after her release, Davindra still had a tendency to bury herself in as much activity as possible. During Potions she would often be ahead of everyone else and would sit waiting while others around her caught up. In those quiet moments, Snape would see her face grow somber and her eyes lose focus as her mind undoubtedly went to the issue of her father's slow death taking place far away from Hogwarts. Requesting that she assist someone running far behind would bring her back to the present reality. She seemed relived to be given something to occupy her thoughts.

One Saturday night Snape was heading back to his office after dinner when he found Davindra standing at his door.

Snape slowed and let out a disappointed groan.

"What is it now, Miss Collins?"

She was wearing ridiculous Muggle casual attire: pants and a clinging shirt, with her hair clipped loosely at the back of her head. Snape made a point of not looking as though he gave notice to how she dressed, though the image was burned into his mind.

"I saw you had gotten in a fresh shipment of lacewing flies. I thought you might like them sorted." She looked hopeful and eager.

Snape opened his office door and walked ahead of her. "Do you really have nothing better to do on a Saturday night ?" he asked irritably. "I have to supervise detention in the library and don't have the spare time to supervise you."

"It's only sorting flies," she retorted as she followed close behind him. "How much supervision do I need?"

He spun about to look into her face. "Tell me again why you wish to take up a weekend night not with enjoying the company of your fellow housemates but in a dungeon doing work normally left for those in detention?"

Davindra shrugged her shoulders and smiled, though her eyes darted about the room. Snape smiled coolly as he surmised it was more avoidance of her own thoughts. The horrors of the imagination and the anguish of the heart were not easy things to hide from.

"Alright," he finally agreed. "Sort the lacewing flies, then go find something else to occupy your frivolous time with."

She did little to suppress her victorious grin. Snape gathered a few things from his desk and headed out towards the library, telling her to come find him immediately when she was done. He didn't want to leave his office unprotected for a second longer than necessary.

Snape tucked himself away in a corner of the library where he could still keep an eye on the few students who were dusting books. He craved the peace and darkness of the restricted section, but forced himself to stay visible and vigilant. For quite some time he sat with his nose pressed into the third years' essays when he wasn't suspiciously eyeing the surly group. Just when he was about to be bored mindless from the horrid misquoting and preposterous muddling of various spells students still made after three years of his instruction, Snape felt a strange warmth in the pocket of his jacket. Reaching in, he pulled out the Alarmist Crystal, which he had nearly forgotten about. Black smoke rolled about the inside of the gem as it grew warmer in his hand.

Snape ran from the library, quickly forgetting the detention, bound for the potions supply closet. He tore around corners, his robe flapping behind him like that of a great bat. Students quickly stood aside and stared after him, wondering who was the victim of his latest wrath.

The door of the closet was sealed shut with the spell attached to the Alarmist Crystal. He stopped at the door and leaned his ear close, to perhaps hear the fervent scurrying or clawing of the desperate prey he had just trapped. But he heard nothing. A wave of his wand and Alohomora released the door of its charm. It swung open to reveal a shadowy interior. In the corner a figure stood.

"Alright, you've been caught," Snape announced, his wand still raised. "There will be no escape, so you might as well show yourself."

Slowly the figure moved into the light. Davindra stood in the open doorway, her arms crossed, a look of stoic resignation on her face. Not able to conceal his shock, Snape lowered his wand as his mouth fell open at the sight of her. He recovered himself immediately and stepped closer, pressing the tip of his wand under her chin. Her head tilted back, but her eyes stayed on him.

"Please explain yourself, Miss Collins," he snarled. "Because finding that someone I actually trusted to respect my rules and property has insulted my generosity by stealing from me is most disturbing. I had no idea behind all that good breeding and intelligence lurked a common thief."

Snape pushed the wand's tip further into her flesh, causing her to wince, but still she said nothing.

He suddenly spied a bulge in her front jeans pocket. With two fingers he reached down and pulled a small bottle from her hip. Then reaching further in, but forcing himself not to linger, his fingers found another. He gripped the two bottles in his fist and held them in front of her.

"And how did these find their way into your snug little pocket?" His voice dripped with deadly sarcasm. "Mermaid cartilage and unicorn blood," he read from the labels. "And what were you going to do with these, pray tell?"

Without a reply, Davindra slowly reached inside the neckline of her shirt and pulled a paper envelope from inside of her bra. Snape plucked the packet from her hand, the warmth of her breast still perceptible to his fingers.

"Phoenix ashes." Snape eyed her carefully. "Any other items you wish to surrender, or shall I search you myself?"

The thought made him quiver inside, and he imagined he saw a shiver run through her as well.

"That's all," she replied quietly.

Snape looked again at the supplies then back to her. "These are rare and expensive elements you have attempted to swipe from me. I could have you expelled and back on your grandmother's doorstep by morning."

He continued to stare into her face with as much brutal intensity as he could muster. Though he loved the idea of executing a harsh discipline for her crime, he knew the last thing he would ever do would be to send her away from Hogwarts. But he also knew that would be the threat that would elicit the most fear and get a confession of her reasons for carrying out this offense.

"Now, answer my question," Snape demanded as he lowered his wand. "Why were you stealing these particular things from my supply closet?"

Davindra paused for a moment, her eyes cast down as she inhaled a steadying breath. She pushed her bangs from her eyes and her feet shuffled in place.

She spoke only a second before he would have lost his temper. "It's for my father."

The impassive cruelty didn't falter from Snape's gaze, though he now understood what she had been trying to do.

"He's so sick now. No one can do anything, no Muggle doctor anyway. I had read in one of the medical magic books that there were some potions created by Healers that had helped some Muggle diseases."

Davindra shrugged her shoulders in defeat. "I just wanted to do something to help because no one else will."

Snape thought for a moment. Should he involve Dumbledore? Should take care of this himself? Did her reasons justify her transgression?

"To my office, now," he commanded and motioned with his wand for her to lead the way.

He pondered the situation as he followed behind, and by the time they had reached the office, his brain was, unfortunately, no more clear than before.

Snape signaled for her to sit in the worn wingback by his desk as he paced.

"This isn't the first time you've stolen from me, is it?"

"I got into the closet one other time for Grindylow scales," she replied with very little remorse. "I was attempting a potion for pain relief and nausea, but it didn't work."

"And that is all? What about when you broke into my office? What did you take then?" Snape demanded.

She furrowed her brows. "I've never broken into your office."

"The time for lies is through, Miss Collins." He came to stand in front of her and stared down at her submissive form reclined in the chair. "My patience for your games has worn thin. You've been caught red handed..."

"I've never lied to you and you know it!" Davindra interjected as she sat up straight. "I might have taken those things from your supply closet, but I've at least confessed to it. I've never broken into your office nor stolen anything from it."

As Snape was about to light into the various things he believed she had lied about from the moment he'd met her, there came a knock at his door. He gave Davindra a cool promise of continuance with his eyes as he moved to fling open the door and severely chastise whoever dared stand on the other side. Albus Dumbledore was waiting on the doorstep, forcing Snape to take his temper down several notches and to realize his decision about involving the Headmaster had been made for him.

The old wizard smiled serenely as he stepped into the office and walked directly to Davindra as though he had total awareness of all that had transpired that evening.

"Is there a problem, Professor Snape?" Dumbledore asked with a look of genuine concern.

"Yes," Snape replied. "It seems that I found Miss Collins pilfering my supply closet."

"Is that true, Davindra?"

"Yes, it is, Professor Dumbledore," she answered respectfully.

"And," Snape continued. "I also believe her to be guilty of breaking into my office. Though I have no proof," he added quietly.

"I did not break into Professor Snape's office," Davindra announced fiercely.

Dumbledore held up his hands for silence. "Why did you break into the supply closet?"

Again she explained about making the potion for her ailing father. The wizard nodded as he listened to her story.

"I've heard of your father's health, and I'm truly sorry," he began. "Your wishing to be of assistance and aid is admirable, but unfortunately what you have been told by your family and the Muggle doctors is true. There is very little that anyone can do. Sometimes not even magic is the answer to every problem."

His words were kind and spoken in a compassionate way that seemed to finally bring Davindra's emotions to the surface. Snape saw her holding back tears and attempting to restrain her feelings.

"I know I can't cure him," she said. "I'm not that naïve. I just hate seeing him suffer. I just can't understand why people aren't doing more. The only thing Grandmother offered to do was make a potion that would keep his hair from falling out." She gave a sad chuckle, then looked at Dumbledore. "If he could only eat and sleep peacefully, then maybe the rest wouldn't be so bad."

Snape stood back and watched the exchange between the two. He felt a sudden jealousy at the way Dumbledore was able to extract such mellow and honest emotion from Davindra and how easily she opened herself to him. Feeling as though his presence had been forgotten, he stepped forward.

"Although her intentions might have been noble, Headmaster, there is still the matter of stealing, which is a very serious offense. Since I was the victim of this crime, I think I should be able to chose the appropriate punishment."

Dumbledore looked to Snape and then back to Davindra.

"This is a serious matter. One that, though perhaps backed by good intentions, cannot go unpunished."

Turning to Snape, he continued. "It would be best to have Professor Flitwick involved since Davindra is a Ravenclaw."

Snape shouldn't have been surprised. Whenever "Saint Potter" broke a rule, even if it directly effected Snape, he was never allowed any say in the punishment. McGonagall had final judgment over all Gryffindors, always with the backing of Dumbledore and never taking Snape's suggestions into consideration. Why would that change now with any other student?

Once more, Snape found himself bowing to the Headmaster's superiority and quietly following along behind Davindra to Dumbledore's office. The one time she slowed to gaze back at Snape he took the opportunity to jab his wand sharply into her back to keep her moving. Silently she flinched in pain, but she didn't attempt to look at him again.

Flitwick listened with a grave expression on his face as he heard all sides of the story. Davindra stood amongst the men with quiet dignity to await her sentencing. After much debate back and forth, it was agreed that fifteen points would be taken from Ravenclaw, she would lose privileges to Hogsmeade for three months and perform one month's worth of detention under the direction of Argus Filch.

It was the second best choice Snape could imagine. If there was one person who would be willing to comply with Snape's bidding it was the Hogwarts caretaker. The Squib had always fancied himself an adopted Slytherin, an idea Snape didn't discourage simply because it won favor with the one other person besides Dumbledore who had access to and knew everything in Hogwarts.

Before the night was done Snape had already spoken with Filch and arranged a month's worth of grueling duties that would keep Davindra too busy to focus on the problems that seem to plague her mind.

Dumbledore asked Snape to remain behind after the others left. He went on to say the real reason for his coming to Snape that evening was to ask if he would take Professor Lupin's class for the next week. It seemed that the last moon cycle had been especially hard on the werewolf, and he would need some time to recover. Snape wondered if they still spirited him off to the Shrieking Shack for his episodes and if that were still the safest place to house a dangerous animal.

Snape agreed to take the class but gently suggested that perhaps Lupin was not the best selection for the position if his health would be in question every month. Dumbledore said he felt confident in Lupin's abilities and that all that was needed was a stronger Wolfsbane Potion.

Perhaps it was his already paranoid imagination, but Snape thought he saw an accusing look in the Headmaster's eye. Feeling as though he had been the victim of one too many slights for the night, he felt his patience snap.

"Do you think I have purposely given Remus an inferior potion? Do you think I would risk endangering everyone at Hogwarts just to settle a childhood grudge?" Snape dared to give Dumbledore a hard, even glare as he nervously clenched his fists.

Dumbledore's look softened to the extent that Snape questioned the accusation he thought he had seen only a moment ago. Instead of raging back against the Potions teacher's insolence, the kindly wizard put his hand on Snape's shoulder and spoke gently.

"Severus, I know you better than to even suspect that for one second. No, I simply believe that Remus's condition warrants a more aggressive mixture to combat the effects. This has been an especially trying night. Why don't you get some sleep, and I'm sure we'll all be back to ourselves in the morning."

With one last pat to his arm, the Headmaster glided off, leaving Snape to feel both annoyed and ashamed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

His lesson plan made out for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Snape decided to check on Davindra's detention. For the past few days she had spent part of her evenings scrubbing floors and bathrooms, cleaning out rattraps, and polishing trophy cases. He had passed her often while she was on her knees with a brush or rag in her hand, dirt, and sweat dripping from her forehead. She would give him a blank, flat stare, but Snape could read her rage without even trying.

Finding her alone in the trophy room, he quietly approached. His shoes left muddy smears on the freshly scrubbed floor. Standing next to her kneeling form, Snape couldn't help but smirk.

"It seems you missed a spot."

Davindra didn't acknowledge his presence nor pause in her work.

A quick look around proved they were quite alone. Snape crouched down.

Quietly he spoke. "You know, Miss Collins, I am not completely devoid of human compassion. If you had only come to me about the issue with your father, I might have been able to help. And this whole unpleasant problem could have been avoided."

She stopped and sat back on her heels to give him a cold look.

"No, you wouldn't have." Her sarcasm was piercing. "You would have told me the exact same thing everyone else has. 'There is nothing to be done, now go practice making some potion and behave yourself'."

Snape raised his eyebrows at her sharpness. "And so you refuse to believe that someone tells you the truth simply because it isn't what you want to hear?"

Davindra slammed her brush into the bucket causing filthy, soapy water to splash everywhere.

"I'm paying my dues for stealing from you," she said through clenched teeth. "What more do you want?"

"I want you to understand your position," Snape hissed back. "You are a child of fifteen who, though quite intelligent, does not know everything. You cannot go around forcing your will into every situation that does not meet with your expectations."

She sat silently, her jaw clenched, refusing to look at him as he spoke.

"Though you may not believe it, I have done a great deal for you, at the risk of my own neck at times. That is why I was so grievously distressed to find that you would go behind my back and steal from me when I have gone so far out of my way to accommodate your needs."

"I've already lost Hogsmeade privileges. I'm on my knees scrubbing...." she began angrily.

"It's all irrelevant unless you truly understand!" Snape shouted more loudly than he intended. He lowered his voice to continue. "Tell me honestly, Miss Collins, is there anyone here you trust more than me?"

She sat stock still for a moment then slowly turned to look into his black eyes. There was hesitation, but Snape could see the answer dawning to her.

"I thought not." He cocked an eyebrow for emphasis. "It's important for you to remember that. The last thing you want to do is to burn the only trustworthy bridge you have left to cross."

A measured calm settled over Davindra. "Then tell me, Professor Snape," she began in a hard voice. "Would you be able to make a potion to help my father's last days be more comfortable?"

"Seems a bit late to be asking for favors, don't you think?"

Cocking her head to the side, she gave him an unforgiving stare.

"You're all I have left to turn to, remember?" There was bitterness to her voice. "And I'm trusting you to be honest with me. Is there really anything that could be done?"

Snape pursed his lips and thought for a moment. Did she deserve anything from him at that point? But if he wanted honesty from her, perhaps it was best to lead by example.

"I've never heard of a wizard curing Muggle cancer," he said finally. "I have heard of some potions helping with side effects of the treatments: nausea, weakness, pain. But their results are unreliable. Not all Muggles respond to magic in the same way. It might help, it might do nothing, it might kill him all together."

She seemed to think for a moment on his words, then looked him in the eye and nodded.

"Could you try?" she asked.

"I'm not a Healer, and I've never attempted a medical potion for a Muggle."

"So there really is nothing?" She seemed appalled and disgusted. "What good is all this magic anyway?"

Davindra picked the brush out of the bucket and began to scrub again. Snape stood and watched her, feeling he should say something and not sure what.

"Miss. Collins," he began. "I'll see what I can find out. But I guarantee you nothing."

She looked up at his towering form from her hands and knees. "Then I'll know to not be disappointed."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The rushing weeks before the holidays gave Snape little time for anything other than class preparation and grading. But he found himself often pacing with a caged anger in his office, his mind nowhere near the tasks that needed finishing.

It seemed Lupin had not liked Snape's course plan for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He had come into Snape's office looking congenial enough and stating that Snape's trick had been very clever, but if he were to ever try anything like it again, he would be facing Dumbledore's wrath.

Snape informed him that even if that were the case, Lupin would no doubt then be looking for new employment as well.

"Perhaps a guide dog for a blind troll?" Snape had suggested. "Or guarding a junk yard?"

Lupin chuckled but held Snape in a resentful gaze. "I'm not going to spar with you, Severus. I need your considerable knowledge of potions too much right now. And I don't need another battle to fight. Just step off a bit. And don't worry, I'm assuming this appointment is just as temporary as you had hoped."

Thankfully, Lupin seemed to suffer from another bout of his Lycanthrope during the Christmas holiday, which meant Snape didn't have to suffer his company during the Christmas dinner. There was only Potter and Weasley and the mentally derailed Sibyll Trelawney to tolerate for a few hours.

Later, Snape found himself pacing about his office. He was out of elf-made and Mock-Thistle Wine and felt the need to take a bit of the ragged edge off. His eyes went to the many potions he kept stored in his shelves when he spotted the calming draught Davindra had made at the beginning of the year. No time like now to test it, he thought. The thick, sweet liquid had a warm and soothing feel to it as it slid down his throat.

As he waited for the effects to settle in, Snape began a scan of the many books scattered about his office in corners and on shelves until finally he found the volume he had subconsciously been looking for, "Magical Medical Mysteries; Muggle Diseases."

The calming draught pumped through his veins, causing his arms and legs to feel heavy and jelly-like. Perhaps it actually was an especially strong potion. Until it did its worst, Snape flipped through the pages of the book in his lap, reading of the various maladies that magical medicine had attempted to solve for the Muggle world. Finally the subject of cancer came up, and Snape found he had to concentrate to focus his vision and his mind on the words before him. Pressing his cold fingers to his tired eyes, Snape had rested for only a moment when he found himself dragged down into a deep, dark unconsciousness.

Images swirled before his eyes. Scenes from his life came forward and would play for a moment then melt away. Snape saw his father screaming drunkenly at his cowering mother while he hung on to the neck of his young son's collar and dragged him about the floor. The sting of his father's slaps were as vivid as if they were being freshly delivered.

Darkness swept over the vision, and a scene from Snape's teen years at Hogwarts unfolded. He had been cornered by a group of older Gryffindors who proceeded to drag him kicking and screaming to the shower room where he was held under a downpour of ice cold water. Snape felt the breath leave his body at the shock of the freezing deluge.

Again the vision changed to a dark, dank, foul smelling cell in Azkaban. Snape knew what was coming. The shadow of a Dementor hovered over him, and there was a change in air pressure as if a vacuum had been sealed. Nausea, despair, pain, fear, and dread swept over his body. Just as Snape felt he would rather die than continue reliving the horrors of his past, the picture again dimmed and remained black for several blissful moments in which he begged to awaken.

Instead a new, unfamiliar vision appeared before him. Dumbledore and Lupin were speaking with their heads quite close together. They turned as if sensing Snape's approach. Both looked at him with twisted smiles of distain.

"If only I had someone trustworthy I could rely upon as much as you, Remus," Dumbledore spoke in a distant sounding voice. "If only James had survived. He and his son together could have ruled Hogwarts at my side."

"I suggest you purge this place of its undesirables," Lupin commented in an equally echoing voice. "No need to suffer a coward and a failure."

Both men took menacing steps toward Snape, but he felt powerless to move away. The nightmare again changed, and now Snape found himself at the feet of Lord Voldemort who looked down with red, glowing eyes and a lipless sneer.

"My most faithful servant indeed," he hissed. "It seems I have no one I can rely on at Hogwarts to do what needs to be done. All around me is failure. You serve no purpose for anyone anymore. Crucio!"

The intense agony of every fiber of his body being set aflame swept through Snape. He could actually feel his body flailing and twitching and hear his own screams.

The phantasm dissipated, and he was left with the tranquil sight of a Hogwarts corridor. A young man walked ahead, and Snape followed as he turned corners right and left before coming to a door he cautiously entered. Inside a small gathering of young men crowded around something in the center of the room. They parted as Snape moved through until he was standing behind a young man in front of a table. He could see the slender arms and legs of a female wrapped around the boy, which writhed, clutched and caressed his equally undulating body. Murmurs and dull chattering from the group around them seemed to spur him on. But the boy pulled away enough for Snape to see it was Davindra who sat upon the table. Her blouse was unbuttoned, and her skirt was pushed up to her thighs. Tousled, gnarled hair hung in her lust-filled eyes, which she turned to him. Her hand reached out.

"I've been waiting for you," she said in a husky, dream-like voice. "It's your turn next, Professor."

Snape felt his heart beat faster and a cold sweat break out over his body. He told himself to turn away, but he didn't. He moved closer and closer until her hands latched onto his robes, and she pulled herself against him. Snape screamed at himself that he had to stop. Dual emotions of disgust and desire swam about his mind as he begged for control, though his body charged on without him. The chants and shouts of the crowd grew louder and louder until they drowned out the ethical shrieking inside his head.

Snape felt the medical book slip from his lap and fall to the floor with a thud. His eyes opened to the empty, silent office. He had spent the entire night in his wingchair. It was morning. Weak sunlight filtered through the small, grimy windows, filling the office with an apathetic glow.

He became aware that every muscle in his body ached. His clothes were soaked with sweat, and there was a trace of vomit on his coat as well has his chin. A wretched, sour taste remained in his mouth, and his head felt like it had just been released from a vice.

As consciousness began to set in, a slow rage filled him. Spying the book on the floor, Snape reached down and flung it as hard as he could against the farthest wall. His heart pounded with a fury he could no longer name. Snape sat with his head in his hands. The draught had not been a calming one. Instead it invoked the most appalling, horrifying moments of one's life, both past and future, and made them startlingly real.

When he stopped shaking and felt sure he could stand, Snape rose from the chair. At the shelf, he found the bottle he had drank from the night before. His first thought was to destroy what was left, but he stopped. Tom Riddle had believed this potion useful enough to catalog it in his book. Madame Collins had thought it important enough to hide. There would be a purpose for this deadly tonic, he realized. It had been tested and found to be a most formidable dark draught.

Snape pocketed the bottle and left his office for his personal chambers, a fresh change of clothes and a very large dose of stimulant serum. He never wanted to close his eyes again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~