Year Four: Ignorance's Bliss

The masses returned to Hogwarts after Christmas break to find their Potions teacher hollow-eyed and anxious from lack of sleep. His temper raged higher than normal at erratic intervals, and even fellow staff found themselves stepping a wide path around Severus Snape. The advancing effects of overuse of the sleeping potions and the stimulant serum fueled waves of dizziness and tremors, which he found he had trouble disguising. A discrete inquiry about a detoxifier from Madam Pomfrey kept him from looking like a full-blown potion junkie coming down from a binge. Most, including Dumbledore, were too busy with plans for the new semester and worries about Sirius Black to pay any attention to Snape's physical condition. He hid his exceptionally pallid appearance and angry anxiety best by keeping to his office and chambers until it was time for classes to resume.

Exacerbating his ill temperament was the fact that Davindra did not come back to school after the break. A strange concoction of relief and disappointment filled him as he read the short memorandum from Flitwick, which stated that Davindra's family had asked that she remain behind to spend extra time with her ever-ailing father. Snape's paranoia, fed by sleep deprivation and exhaustion, caused him to question why he wasn't owled personally. However, he soothed himself with the reminder that after the horrifying, graphic visions brought on by the "calming" draught, not seeing Davindra would be a blessing. He couldn't imagine how he would handle her searing stares and double-edged comments now.

Twice Snape sat down to write to Madame Collins to ask when Davindra might be expected back at school. But fearing that his inquiry would be taken as interfering, callous, and perhaps, read as something more than he intended, he destroyed each unfinished note. He had no right to ask anything of her life outside of Hogwarts. It was a realization that sat uncomfortably in the back of Snape's mind to itch and burn like a Stinging Hex.

It seemed that the traditional rigors of life at Hogwarts soon had Snape back to normal for the most part. He filled his head with the worries and duties of teaching and running Slytherin House as well as needling his least favorite students at every turn. Lupin stayed out of his path except when he needed Wolfsbane Potion, and then there was a tight, measured congeniality between them. Snape simply refused to give his mind over to thoughts of Davindra or the images planted by the illicit calming draught.

Instead, his only indulgence was to envision capturing Sirius Black single handedly and inflicting his own retribution before handing him over to the Dementors. Snape liked to imagine him starving and filthy, hiding like an animal, and cowering like a little girl. But he knew, despite all his loathing for Black, that he was too smart and tricky to be existing that desperately. Every bone in Snape's body told him that Black was doing quite well due in great thanks to Lupin's assistance. And if there was any way to take them both down, Snape would gleefully hand the pair over to the Dementors personally.

Just as Snape was finally beginning to feel back to his old self, he walked into his fourth-year Potions class to find Davindra back in her usual spot, sitting with her usual placid composure, though tired, dark circles ringed her pale eyes. He stopped briefly at the front of the room and surveyed her countenance to surmise what situation had occurred at home to allow her return. Her vague smile gave nothing away.

"It appears Miss Collins has again joined us," he spoke quietly. "Let us hope she can easily catch up with the rest of the class."

Davindra twitched her eyebrow at his challenge. Pulling his gaze away, Snape did not allow her to garner his attention for the rest of the class time.

With a lengthy essay assigned for homework and a pile of abysmal potion samples on his desk, Snape watched the group leave. Only then did he let his stare set upon Davindra. On cue she returned his look and slowed her preparation to leave so that she was soon the only student left in the dungeon.

Taking her bag onto her shoulder, she slowly walked up to the desk, which Snape sat securely behind, her eyes never leaving him. Only the table separated them as they surveyed each other.

"Well?" he asked coolly.

She seemed to know exactly what his one word asked of her. "It was touch and go for a while at Christmas. He rallied after the new year. Was actually up and about walking when I left." A sad resignation passed over her face. "But I don't know that that will happen again the next time."

Snape nodded thoughtfully, unsure of what to say in reply. He found himself going in the safest direction he knew: the way of guarded hostility.

"Would it have been too much to ask that your grandmother at least send an owl to keep me apprised of the situation rather than forcing me to pry Professor Flitwick for your whereabouts? I have enough trouble trying to fit your tutoring into all that has to be done. Making plans for lessons that don't take place wastes my time." Snape couldn't ignore the look of shocked insult Davindra wore at his words.

He sighed exasperatedly at his own lack of grace in dealing with emotional issues. "I don't wish to imply that your father's health is of lesser importance than your education right now," he uttered hurriedly. "And I am greatly relieved to hear that he is in a revitalized state for the time being. My issue is with your grandmother and her inconsistencies. She hounds and demands and bribes for favors only then to go silent at the most frustrating moments!"

Snape stopped his rant, suddenly fearing he had spoken too much. By the look in Davindra's eyes, it was too late. A devilish smile crept up to drive away her former hurt look.

"Why, Professor," she softly teased, "did you miss me?"

"Like a festering pustule." Snape tossed her a waspish glare. "I would simply appreciate some respect for my time, which is more rare and valuable than either of you two realize."

"Actually," her voice was now lined with modesty, "I had asked if I could write to you myself, but Grandmother told me she would take care of it. I'm guessing that didn't happen then?"

Snape gave her a dramatic look of mock surprise wrapped in disgust. "Shocking, isn't it, that your grandmother could be deceitful?"

Davindra shrugged her shoulders. "It was hectic; maybe she just forgot."

"I'm sure that's it." He oozed sarcasm.

"Professor?" she began hopefully. "I don't suppose you had a chance to look into the thing we talked about before Christmas break?"

Snape gave her a blank look and silence.

"Something for my dad? You said you'd see if you could find anything that might help him."

All he could think of was the horrible night he endured after he took the medical book down from the shelf. He remembered nothing of what he read before he lost consciousness and had not touched it since.

"I am sorry, but I found nothing that could be of any use," he finally said, attempting to overshadow his discomfort with staged humility.

Davindra nodded with a sad, forgiving smile. "Okay," she replied softly. No longer wanting to hold his gaze, she fidgeted nervously for a moment. "Well, I'm going to be late for Charms."

Snape spoke before she had turned to go. "Miss Collins, do you remember the calming draught you did at the beginning of the year?"

"Yes."

"Do you recall anything... strange about its creation? You followed the directions exactly?" He stared into her, searching for any sign of deceit.

"Yes, yes, I followed the directions just as they were written," she insisted. "And the only thing that I noticed as strange were all the half steps. 'Stir five and a half times counter clockwise. A high boil for seventeen and a half minutes.' It was hard to keep accurate. And also..." She paused, her eyes rolling about the room as she thought

"What?" Snape demanded.

"I thought cowbane an odd thing to add to a calming draught. Even just the few grains it called for. It's hemlock, right?"

"They are of the same family. If you remembered second-year Potions, you would know this," he said with an accusatory raise of his eyebrow. "The wrong dose is deadly, but hemlock can be used as a sedative. You're certain you used exactly the correct amount?"

Again, she shrugged. "I was sure." Davindra suddenly looked at him with more interest. "Did someone try it? Did you? What did it do?"

Snape stared back, his black eyes narrowed in guarded scrutiny. He wasn't about to tell her of the brutal night he spent reliving the worst moments of his life and experiencing new ones, in which she took center stage.

"You're late for Charms, Miss Collins," he reminded.

She gave him a quizzical smile, then slowly turned to stroll from the dungeon.

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

That evening, Snape opened Tom Riddle's spell book to review the calming draught and its ingredients. An analysis of the finished potion showed that Davindra had indeed correctly constructed it. Her dose of cowbane was off by barely one tenth of a grain. Of course, if she had truly miscalculated, the potion would have killed while he dreamed.

While pondering the intricacies of the elixir, Snape flipped through the heavily scribbled pages. He was reminded of his own books, in which he always wrote notes, annotations, and improvements when he saw the need. Yet another thing Snape had in common with the Dark Lord, though Riddle had decided he had talent enough to create his own text with no need for someone else's bases. Snape also had often thought his own creations far superior to any he learned from ancient, school approved tomes.

At the end of the book, he came to the lose parchment that held the spell for the Vision Well. He considered the complex steps and hard to find items needed to create the Pensieve-like spyglass. If only he had one, he would not have needed wonder for one second what was happening with Davindra. It wasn't the first time this thought had run through his head. Deep inside he came to the realization that the spell was meant for her all along.

Snape soon began the gathering of objects and supplies needed for the Vision Well. A trip into Hogsmeade was necessary to procure several items. The first part of the project required a binding amulet be created to link the seer and his subject. It took nearly two weeks for Snape to gather enough stray strands of Davindra's hair from her robes to weave with his own, which were to later be wrapped around a narrow crystal slab of beryl. A twin crystal would rest in the Vision Well itself to conduct the energies between the two of them.

She seemed anxious to delve back into their tutoring session. But Snape didn't want her doing too much nosing about his office in fear that she might stumble upon some of his preparation for the Well. He kept her occupied, instead, with assigned readings, reports, and cataloging supplies. It was nothing more than busy work that accomplished little other than keep her out of his way but under his supervision. Davindra didn't complain about the meaningless tasks and seemed happy to simply stay active.

Snape again had the feeling that his office was being searched. And now the suspicion also went to his private chambers, which had the unmistakable impression of a stranger's presence, when he walked into it in the evenings. It drove him to near madness to try to think of what someone could be looking for and what they might have touched or taken. Davindra would surely not be stupid enough to again attempt to steal from him when she was barely out of detention for her previous transgression. And another Alarmist Crystal and tougher protection spells seemed to do nothing to dissuade the intruder.

He decided it was time to inform Dumbledore. However, the Headmaster seemed less than disturbed that someone had brazenly broken into Snape's sanctuary and suggested he recruit Filch to keep an eye on things. The exchange left him feeling angry and insignificant. However, Filch seemed thrilled to be given a job that might promise a grand and miserable punishment for whomever he caught.

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

In the midst of a deep, potion induced sleep, Snape almost didn't hear the Headmaster's call to arms for the staff. Luckily, he had fallen asleep fully clothed in his armchair and only had to splash icy water on his face to bring himself into full, clear consciousness. As he hurried toward the excitement in the Gryffindor Tower, Snape knew exactly what had caused all the distress. Sirius Black was back prowling the halls of Hogwarts, looking for something undoubtedly so important to him that he was willing to risk his life and hard-won freedom for it.

Again the mongrel bastard managed to slip away. Another entire night spent sweeping the castle from top to bottom produced nothing. Snape was about to personally question Lupin about his activities for the evening when Dumbledore intervened and directed him to see to his students in Slytherin. All he could do was send the tired and battered looking professor a blistering look of contempt and an unspoken promise of reprisal when the Headmaster wasn't so close by for protection.

The coming days saw higher security measures put into place. Everyone was asked to contribute in some way. Snape's first suggestion would have been to fire Lupin, if anyone would have listened. Instead, he was asked to help seal windows and doors with more resistant Impenetrable Charms.

He was waving his wand over one of the high, arched windows when Filch came running up to him in his floppy, gangly way and said in a dramatic stage whisper that he had just seen someone coming out of Snape's office. Filch said he would have stopped the person in their tracks and dragged them to the dungeon except that he didn't feel he could take those kinds of liberties with a teacher.

"Who was it?" Snape demanded firmly.

"Professor Lupin, sir."

"Lupin?" he spat with rage. Just as he was about to feel himself fly into a stark raving fit, suddenly several seemingly irrelevant pieces of the puzzle fell neatly into place.

"Of course," he said with a wicked, twisted smile. "Lupin."

Storming into his office, Snape retrieved Tom Riddle's spell book from its hiding spot inside the bottom of his bookshelf and made his way to the classroom for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

He entered without knocking and found Remus Lupin cleaning up an empty cage.

"Come to search my office for Sirius Black, have you, Severus?" he spoke cheerily.

"Not quite," Snape returned smoothly. "Actually, I believe I have something you've been looking for."

Lupin turned to survey him with amused curiosity. But when he saw the battered book Snape held in his hand, his face fell into a somber mask.

"Oh, is this not what you were ransacking my office and chambers in search of?" Snape asked with a placid lilt.

"How long have you known about it?" Lupin asked.

"Actually, it's a fairly recent acquisition. A gift, you might say, for helping out an old friend."

The two men stood staring into each other with calm, calculated malice when Lupin finally nodded with a slight smile.

"Ah, Madame Collins, I'm betting," he said with a wink and a shake of his finger. "I knew she wouldn't destroy it, and I just knew it had to be here somewhere. So, tell me, does this have anything to do with her granddaughter who I see trailing at your side all the time with wide, love-sick eyes? She's a devilishly clever girl, but her taste in men is rubbish if not downright illicit."

Snape kept his rising anger in check. "Spent so much time in the gutter sniffing for scraps that you can't seem to think outside of it, Professor?" His lip curled with his snide words. "But you are half right. Madame Collins did present this book to me, and also a most interesting story about how she came upon it. Do tell me though, why, after more than twenty years, you would still be pining away for an old spell book? Sentimental reminder of your old chum, Potter?"

Lupin stood with his arms crossed, staring at Snape from under a furrowed brow, though a cynical smile sat crookedly upon his face. "I'm sure you are now quite familiar with that book and know exactly why I might be interested it. For the very reason standing before me: so you wouldn't find it."

"Too late," Snape quipped with raised eyebrows.

"So, how long before that book finds its way back to its insidious author?"

"I sincerely doubt that Madame Collins would entrust me with this book if she believed I had plans to continue its evil foray."

"Either she doesn't know you very well, or you are both, as I always suspected, sitting on the same side."

It was obvious that Lupin was beginning to lose his temperate composure. He flicked his wand with a jerk, and the cage he had just been cleaning floated to a hook in the ceiling.

"Wouldn't it reason that what you really wish is to have the book so you and Black can continue your own dark work?" Snape challenged.

Lupin pocketed his wand but didn't remove his hand from his robe as he glared into his nemesis with bored disdain.

"For the last fucking time, I am not helping Sirius Black get into Hogwarts, kill Harry Potter, nor assist in Voldemort's return to power," he snapped angrily.

The Dark Lord's name caused Snape's nerves to twitch, and he was about to chastise Lupin for speaking it when he thought better of showing his weakness.

"Neither am I," he hissed in response. "And I would thank you to remember that next time you want to get out a hanky and have a good cry over your long lost friends."

"Then give me the book." There was a cold resolve in Lupin's eyes as he spoke the words firmly. "I AM the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I should be the one to guard it."

Snape gave a dry chuckle. "You can call yourself whatever you like, but that doesn't mean doxy shit as far as I'm concerned. It was given to me. It will remain with me. Don't even try to find it because you won't. And if I ever discover that you've been in my office or chambers again," Snape flipped open the book to a random page, "then you will see a bit of Black Tongue might find its way into your next batch of Wolfsbane Potion. It could be hard to howl with your tongue rotting inside your mouth."

Lupin didn't back down from his stance nor release the wand in his pocket, but his half smile returned. "I'd be careful with threats, if I were you, Severus. You're not keeping quite to the straight and narrow yourself. It could be very damaging to your career if it were ever exposed that you had any sort of improper relationship with a certain attractive and attentive young student of yours."

Instantly, Snape had his wand out and pointed at Lupin's face only to have the motion mirrored back at him. Both men stood with wands raised in hands as steady as stone, though both seemed to quake with rage. For a moment they stood on guard, silently daring the other to strike first.

Finally, Snape spoke in a low, cutting voice. "If you ever attempt to blackmail me with such a contemptible, disgusting lie, I will have your hide nailed to my door. I'll do it with my bare hands and revel in the feel of your blood between my fingers."

He snapped his wand away and stormed from the classroom, his robes billowing about him like a cloud of black dust. And though he always liked to make certain he had the last word of any argument, he distinctly heard Lupin's voice drift out the door after him. "And they call me an animal."

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

Anger and curiosity mingled through Snape's brain for the next few days as he contemplated the situations around him. So, Lupin wanted Riddle's book. And Black was after something equally important in Hogwarts. If there wasn't a connection, Snape would kiss a Dementor himself.

The day of the Hogsmeade trip found Davindra happily bundling herself against the damp, chilled air, and chatting amongst a group of fellow Ravenclaws. It was her first outing since the end of her detention after stealing from Snape's supply closet. He watched from afar as she seemed to shake the dreary sadness of her father's illness for a temporary time. In fact, she had appeared to have focused her attention on the captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, Roger Davies. They stood together on the fringes of the crowd laughing and talking, him occasionally giving a playful tug to the end of the scarf around her neck.

Snape felt his stomach do an uneasy turn as he took in the scene. When the groups began to move out, Davindra seemed to feel him observing from the shadows. She turned to look in his direction and, though perhaps not clearly seeing him in the dark confines of his lookout, sensed enough to give a satisfied, flirtatious smile before she returned her charms to Davies and exited the building.

Snape stalked back toward his office wondering what she had meant by that little display. Was she purposefully antagonizing him? The last scene of the calming draught's disturbing images came at him again. As his mind tried to work its way free of the uncomfortable scenario, Snape found himself upon Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom, his two favorite subjects to terrorize. Longbottom being the most responsive, and Potter being the most satisfying to browbeat. Though he was becoming harder to crack as he grew older and regrettably more like his father.

After Snape chased them on their way, he retreated to his office to continue his work on the Vision Well, in hopes it would be done before the end of the year. By the end of the afternoon, Snape had been disturbed by a panting, near hysterical Draco Malfoy with a most unusual story involving "Hero" Potter. Snape caught him where he had last seen him and was in near rapture at the idea of finally having Potter expelled. The boy's insolence, but most especially, the "trick" parchment would have been the final nail in the coffin. There was a familiar stench of the past to that old piece of paper, and Snape called in Lupin to verify it. Unfortunately, the werewolf would have been the only one to reveal its secrets, and he would never give up anything on his old band of associates. The three of them stood there playing dumb, waiting for the other to let something slip until Lupin cleverly swept Potter, the parchment, and any proof of illegal activities out of Snape's office with a flimsy story and an air of mocking. When again alone, Snape seethed silently. 'But no matter,' he thought, 'soon enough Lupin will get his.'

More annoyance came with Slytherin losing the Quidditch Cup. Snape let the team and the entire house all know how repulsed he was to have to bow before Professor McGonagall and relinquish the cup. They had played an abysmal and sloppy game. The Slytherin common room was a more silent, gloomy place than ever before with the atmosphere of depression and shame hanging over it. Snape found that it fitted his mood quite appropriately. The silent contemplation was punctuated by the loud celebration coming from the Gryffindor Tower.

Nearing the end of the term, Snape continued to work feverishly to complete the Vision Well, though many other duties called to him. Davindra had persevered through the weeks and months by staying busy and active, though he could tell that she kept on constant alert for the moment an owl would swoop down with bad news, or when she would be summoned to the Headmaster's office to receive her orders to go home. Snape still assigned the tedious jobs and minor reports in lieu of her extra studies. Their time together was minimal, and he began to wonder if she was happy to not have to spend two nights every week confined in a dungeon with him.

Shockingly, there were moments when Snape would be working alone and find something of interest he knew she would appreciate and feel a pang of disappointment that she wasn't there for him to comment to. She would have found the construction of the Vision Well fascinating, and Snape almost regretted that he couldn't share its creation with her.

Recently he had also kept a sharp eye out for Roger Davies and his attentions toward Davindra. Though they were never caught doing anything more than talking or exchanging a few secretive smiles, Snape's suspicious imagination had him feeling near panic at the idea of them together. He made sure to ride Davies extra hard in Potions and assign as much homework as he could think up in order to ensure that the boy's nights were taken up with work instead of pleasure.

On a late spring evening Davindra appeared at Snape's office door to hand in her most recent report. He instructed her to drop it on his desk and that he would talk to her later because he had to finish grading sixth-year essays. However, she didn't move. Snape's eyes slowly roamed up from his work to her form leaning over him with a look of serious contemplation.

"Why are you suddenly being so hard on Roger Davies?" she demanded. "He's not a bad student. And it's not like he's Harry Potter or Neville Longbottom."

Glaring at her insolence, Snape tossed his quill aside. "How dare you speak to me this way," he began in a slow, dark voice. "What I do or who I do it to is of no business to you. That goes for Davies, Potter, or anyone else you would care to name."

Davindra stood erect with her arms crossed and no trace of fear anywhere on her face. Her pale eyes looked into him and challenged his conviction.

"Is it because I like him?" she asked as though she hadn't heard a word of his admonishment. "We were a bit of a steady item. Is that not allowed? Do you and my grandmother have some deal made where you are supposed to keep me from having any romance in my life?" Now she was the one to spout an irate tone.

Snape started to rage back when a she interrupted him with a malicious smile and cool words. "Or are you just jealous?"

He was on his feet, his face inches from hers. When he spoke, it was with teeth clenched to keep from screaming. "I don't know what kind of a delusional fantasies that twisted mind of yours creates regarding our relationship, but that question is so egregiously revolting and offensive that I won't even bother addressing it."

Snape's heart was racing, and he felt his body shiver with an icy sweat. He gripped the desk to keep from visibly shaking as he glared at the girl before him who now looked back with only vague traces of worry in her normally placid eyes.

"How dare you even suggest..." His mind was at a loss at how to convince her with total certainty that her speculations were groundless. Especially when others had noticed it too. Lupin had basically accused him of having an affair with her, and Flitwick kept eyeing him like he was lecherous pervert.

He felt nauseous, and his head swam as he tried to think of what to say to banish all suspicions from her mind as well as his own. Finally he had to sit down, pressing his head between his hands.

"Professor?" she spoke gently, and Snape could feel her hand reach out to him.

"Get away from me!" he shrieked hoarsely. "Get out of my office! And stay away."

"Professor, sir..." she again stammered, her face flush with embarrassment and shock. "I'm sorry, I didn't..."

"OUT!" he screamed.

Davindra's eyes welled, and she pressed her hand to her mouth to hold in the sob that escaped as soon she ran through the door and up the dungeon stairs.

Snape sat gasping with panic and horror. Scrambling from his chair, he went to the shelves that held his stock of potions. He took a long swig of a calming draught, making sure it was a real one this time. Then he rummaged until he found an open bottle of Mock-Thistle Wine. The liquids converged in his system to give him a dreamy, watery feeling. Finally his breathing slowed, and his heart ceased hammering in his chest.

'It has to stop,' he told himself.

Snape went to the cabinet that held the near completed Vision Well. Taking out his wand, he started to destroy the shallow bowl, crystals, and paraphernalia he had worked on for months. The words sat in his mouth, but he was unable to speak them. His mind wouldn't command them. He couldn't do it. His arms sagged weakly at his sides in defeat. Instead, he closed the doors and locked them soundly with the hope that he would soon forget the incantation that might set them free to do his bidding.

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

Avoiding her was hard, even in a school the size of Hogwarts. But Snape knew for his sanity, his career, and his reputation, it had to be done. If they passed each other in the hall, he didn't so much as glance at her, though her eyes followed him, begging for recognition. In class he never addressed her. He ignored the fact she was even there. And she must have suspected better than to draw attention to herself in his presence, for she walked carefully around him, hardly uttering a word.

Though she might have been out of his sight, she remained firmly implanted in his mind. The more he plied himself with potions or drink, or buried himself in tasks or other pursuits, the more stubbornly she remained. Snape knew he had to be satisfied with at least knowing he appeared above reproach, even if his mind was far, far below it.

He had almost made it to the end of the term with nothing more than a few terse words exchanged in full view of the fourth-year Potions class. Snape had firmly decided that he would tell Madame Collins that next year, under no circumstances, under no threats or bribes, would he spend one extra second with Davindra. Her extra tutoring would have to be bartered elsewhere.

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

It had been too perfect. Snape should have known; he never got that lucky. Catching Black with Lupin, Harry Potter, and the merry band of misfits, all in cooperation together at the Shrieking Shack, was too good to be true, he told himself later. One moment he was about to wrangle Black out to the Dementors, and then the next thing he knew, he was waking up outside the Whomping Willow with a painful, bleeding knot on his head. A vague memory of Potter pointing his wand and shouting Expelliarmus came drifting back to him.

Only an unconscious Weasley was left on the ground and no one else to explain what had happened or how he had gotten there. Noises from the direction of the lake caught his attention and he investigated. When Snape had reached the lakeshore, Potter, Granger, and Black lay unconscious. Still confused about the scenario, Snape managed to get everyone safely back to the school and up to the hospital ward. He was met almost immediately by a seriously concerned Dumbledore. Madam Pomfrey also came bustling up to him to heal the still bleeding knot on his head, but he held her off, saying the others needed her help more and that Black should be seen to then quickly taken prisoner. To add to the pandemonium, Fudge appeared to demand an explanation.

What Snape remembered of the truth would make him look witless and pathetic. He was bested by third-year students, and only one of them clever enough to pour piss out of a cauldron. How Potter managed to conjure such a powerful spell, Snape wasn't sure. Perhaps two of them attacked him at once.

But he knew he couldn't tell Dumbledore and Fudge that. Instead he gave them a mostly true story that included the students being put under a Confundus Charm while trying to capture Black themselves. That story would actually save their hides from trouble with the Ministry, though they would undoubtedly not see it that way. However, he would make sure they would not be spared from punishment for attacking a teacher and consorting with criminals.

He pushed his way free of the questioning crowd and said he would deal with his own wounds and only needed a few moments alone to compose himself, then he would be happy to speak to the Minister and escort Black to the Dementors personally. Reluctantly, they let him leave on a promise of his quick return. Mostly, he was interested in a few moments of silence and in getting a few swigs of his own brewed calming draught and Mock-Thistle Wine inside him before he tried to mentally sort the events of the night. As he made his way from the hospital ward, he found his head was beginning to swim, and he was walking with a slightly drunken gait. The blow he had taken must have been more powerful than he'd realized. He cursed Harry Potter venomously under his breath.

Halfway to his chambers he heard quick footsteps only seconds before Davindra rounded a corner running up to him so fast she collided with him and had to grab on to his robes to keep from bowling them both over.

"What happened?" she demanded in a panicked voice, her eyes fixating on the fresh blood on his forehead. "Someone said they saw you brought into the hospital ward. Someone said you were attacked trying to apprehend Sirius Black."

The rumor mill had already started. Snape pried her hands free of his garments and quickly looked around to see if anyone had seen her dramatic display. The hall behind and in front of them remained empty.

"There is no reason to be alarmed. Everything is fine," he said tightly as he still kept a wary eye out for anyone who might witness their meeting while also avoiding her imploring look.

He tried to move on, but she again grabbed his robe. "You're bleeding! Why aren't you in the hospital wing? I can heal you."

Again he shook free, giving her an irritated glare. "I am fine, and I wouldn't let you aim your wand at me for fear you'd hex me into a coma. Now go back to your tower, and stop bothering me! I don't have time to deal with your hysterics just now."

He spun around to stride away from her, but the quick movement jostled his temporarily damaged equilibrium, and he stumbled into the wall.

Davindra grabbed his arm with a surprisingly firm grip and hissed, "Will you stop being proud and let someone help you!"

Taking another look around for signs of judgmental eyes, he steadied himself against the wall momentarily. "Miss Collins, it is detrimental not only to my health, but my reputation, and most importantly, my career to be seen in your company," he snapped angrily, his head beginning to throb with pain. "I have had to endure the humiliation of fellow staff assuming there is something lascivious going on between us. And worse is that you seem to want to believe it also. I cannot risk my livelihood and everything I have worked for and sacrificed because of an absurd crush."

He pressed his hand to the lump on his head and found the blood indeed still damp. Davindra sighed and pulled a tissue from her pocket and pressed it into his hand, then his hand to his head.

"I'm sorry about that night in your office, what I said about Roger Davies," she said quietly. "I know I was being... a shit for picking a fight with you. But the truth of the matter is that I did want you to be jealous." She looked honestly embarrassed and sad. "I didn't mean to make trouble for you."

"Do you not understand the consequences of your actions?" Snape asked in a quiet, dark voice. "Neither of us would come out of such a scandal unscathed."

Davindra nodded and looked even more apologetic. "I'm leaving first thing in the morning," she stated.

He eyed her curiously out of the one inky-black eye that wasn't hidden under the tissue compressed to his head.

"They don't think the end is far." She again nodded sadly. "I don't think I'll be back before the end of term."

"What about your exams?"

"Professor Flitwick said that they could work something out for me."

Snape wasn't sure what to say. He mumbled a hasty 'I'm sorry' before he attempted to steady himself on his own feet again.

"Professor?" she began, her hand again going to his arm in support. "Remember when you asked me last year if there was anyone else I trusted more than you?"

He said nothing in reply but gave her a glance of irritation that didn't seem to impede her steps or speech. They began a slow, steady walk to his office, his hand trailing along the wall to give aid to his staggering stride.

"Well, we both know the answer to that," she continued with a sad chuckle. "My dad is going to be gone soon. All I've got left is my mother and grandmothers. I don't have anyone like you, no one who understands my life like you do."

She stopped talking for a moment, but they still moved on. Snape wasn't sure what she was wanting, but he didn't have the strength to silence her, plus his head was pulsing with enough pain that even talking was difficult.

"I know you'd just as soon be shot of me and I don't blame you. But don't chuck me out just now. I don't think I could handle what I've got to face at home knowing that when I did come back to Hogwarts next year that you wouldn't help me, much less speak to me. O.W.L.s are coming up. How could I get through those without you?"

"Miss Collins," he sighed irritably. "Must we discuss this now? I have some very important things to tend to immediately. I only have a moment to spare, and being waylaid by you and your incessant demands is taking patience I do not have right now!"

They were finally at the stairs to his office when he stopped and turned to her. Taking the compress from his head, he looked down his hawkish nose into her pleading face. Though she stood strongly before him, her eyes showed somber defeat, and also a sadness so resolute and proud that, for a moment, Snape found himself mesmerized by their icy-green depths. Silently he commanded her thoughts to be revealed, and he saw immense grief and fear. Also there was pain and regret; she was genuinely sorry about their quarrel and had felt deep panic at the idea that he could have been seriously hurt that night. Something else very strong and clear revealed itself from the shadows of her thoughts and startled him so violently that he retreated the instant he saw it.

She continued to look at him beseechingly, surely knowing what he had just done, but seeming either unfazed or unconcerned. Snape took a moment to compose himself before he spoke in a calm voice.

"Now is not the time for you to be concerned with next year's tasks. We'll deal with them later. Just go home, and do what you must. I'll be here when you need me."

He turned to hurry down the stairs, his cloak billowing behind him, but stopped after a few steps to look over his shoulder. She stood watching after him, her look now changed to one of hope.

"And, in the future, if you wish to relay a message to me, Miss Collins, I suggest that you do not depend on your grandmother." A cock of his eyebrow punctuated the meaning of his message, and then he continued his descent.

Once behind his closed door and with a long swallow of high potency calming draught in his body, as well as an incantation to heal the laceration to his head, Snape allowed himself to again visit what he had experienced in the recesses of Davindra's mind. A queasy, weak feeling came over him, and he sat in his chair, closing his eyes.

It was not a fleeting, temporary, or new emotion he had seen. It was one that had been deeply implanted in her for some time. It was startling to see something of that magnitude in someone so young. She couldn't truly know what she was harboring. She couldn't honestly understand what she was feeling. But he knew the mind doesn't lie. What he saw was real and true. Snape shuddered.

Love. She loved him. It was intense, bold, pure, and consuming. Not the innocent love of a juvenile crush or even the sexually driven lust of a hormonal teenager. It was a mature, devoted, unwavering adoration that could not be dampened by his cruelty or neglect. Jealousy fed its obsession. Time only made it stronger. It was embedded in conviction that glorified its existence as just and genuine.

He would have only a few short months to decide how he would handle her and this affliction next year. The most important thing was to keep this information from ever leaving the secure confines of her head. And also to keep a tight reign on himself. He could not let this new awareness change his feelings towards her or how he treated her. But she knew he had seen. She would know that he knew. There was no way to un-see it, though he wished more than anything that he could Obliviate himself and purge the sickening knowledge from his head. He would have to live with the awful secret. One of many he carried deep inside him that even the best Legilimens had yet to find.

Another drink of calming draught and another dab at the last traces of blood on his forehead, and Snape stood to return to the hospital wing. As he crossed the room, his eyes flicked to the cabinet that held the Vision Well and crystals. He stopped and stared.

'It is easily finished,' a convincing little voice spoke. 'And it is important to know if the spell works. Let her continue to be of use to you. Anything you find out will all be in the name of research.'

Again he shuddered and walked from the room, the lyrical chant of the spell to command the crystals to merge as one singing in his head like an old, familiar song.

Word glossary taken from www.wikipedia.org

Cowbane (or Northern Water Hemlock) -- Native to northern and central Europe. Contains cicutoxin, which disrupts the workings of the central nervous system. Poison hemlock has been used as a sedative and for its antispasmodic properties. The difference between a therapeutic and a toxic amount is very slight

Beryl (Beryllium aluminum cyclosilicate). -- The earliest crystal balls were made from beryl. The druids used beryl for scrying (a form of divination). Green beryl is called emerald.