Year Five: A Raging Cold Fire

Every day was a full-blown war for Severus Snape. A battle raged inside him that nearly equaled anything the Dark Lord could have inspired. An innumerable amount of times in every day he would find himself standing before the Vision Well. One voice would be saying, 'use it,' another would say, 'destroy it.' He couldn't bring himself to do either. So he did nothing but pace, rage, and wallow in utter misery at his own cowardice and weakness.

He didn't leave his house. He spoke to no one. Most nights he didn't sleep. He ate infrequently. All he did was sit and concentrate on not letting the images and sounds of his last venture into the Well replay in his mind. The harder he tried to stop them, the louder and more vivid they became. He would have begged on his knees for someone, anyone, to Obliviate him. He doubted that he'd even turn down Avada Kedavra at this point.

An owl from Davindra a few weeks before school only added color to the horror he suffered, though, the note said little of any consequence. It asked of his well being and spoke of her own, then went on to ask what she should do to begin preparing for O.W.L.s in the new year. She again thanked him for coming to the funeral and for his "gift." She mentioned that she looked forward to returning to Hogwarts and seeing him. Again, she signed it "Yours," and that was all. But Snape read between every line. He saw her unspoken emotions, her timid hope that he would one day return them, the uncertainty in contacting him, and the confusion at his silence.

He read the note several times before he crumpled it and, taking out his wand, set it aflame, saying, "I will not be sucked into this madness." And he didn't respond.

Finally, Snape did the only thing he could bring himself to do. He drained the shallow stone bowl and removed the crystal. He placed the crystal in a small box on his bookshelf. The bowl was buried behind some old cauldrons in the kitchen. It was the best compromise he knew. The spell had been effective. No point in being angry because it had done all it had promised. He just had to remember that all dark magic came with consequences and restrictions unique unto itself.

Snape listened to the last few games of the Quidditch World Cup, wishing he could see first hand what promised to be a spectacular match between Ireland and Bulgaria. But he had not the money nor the connections to get tickets. His love of the game had always been great, but constrained by his own insecurities. His fear of ridicule had kept him from trying out for the Hogwarts Slytherin team. Though his knowledge and reflexes were superior to many of the longtime players, his lack of popularity and brutal strength would have ensured rejection.

So he sat at home, nursing old wounds and cursing new ones until an owl from Dumbledore arrived. It announced that the Ministry had agreed to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament and that two schools had agreed to participate. There would be extra students and duties for all teachers and staff, but it would bring an invaluable bond between the students and the schools. With a tired sigh he began to ready himself for a new year at Hogwarts, the past thirteen times he had done so beginning to bleed together into nothing more than a well practiced exercise.

A slight tingle in Snape's left arm spoke of foreboding days even before Lucius Malfoy showed up at his door. Regal and haughty as always, the man attempted to pass the visit off as a social call. Though they had always been friendly, Snape would never have said that he trusted Malfoy as a friend. They had had many adventures together creating chaos and destruction on the orders of the Dark Lord. But there was carefully guarded mutual suspicion and revulsions between the men.

"Are you ever going to move out of this dismal hut, Severus?" Malfoy asked, not hiding a snarl of disdain as he sat on the worn, narrow couch. "Surely, even on a teacher's salary, you could find better."

"Little do you know of the generosity of the Hogwarts Board of Governors," Snape replied as he summoned tea from the kitchen with his wand and took his usual armchair adjacent to the couch. "Besides, I do not have your standards of comfort, Lucius. I find these surroundings possess the most important traits for a summer retreat: quiet, private, and, best of all, free."

Lucius smiled with biting patronage. "Ah, to have such simple pleasures."

"Indeed. Now please explain the reason for your visit. For I doubt it is to investigate my living conditions."

Malfoy adjusted himself on the couch, picking a few bits of lint from his rich, black cloak.

"Have you not noticed a change?" he asked, a meaningful arch to his eyebrow.

Snape continued with a flat, even stare until Lucius spoke again.

"Your Mark." His eyes twitched to Snape's arm, which lay casually draped over the chair arm. "Have you not noticed it? Doesn't it feel as though it's coming to life again?" There seemed to be a look somewhere between horror and wonder on Malfoy's aristocratic face.

Snape surveyed the man carefully before he spoke. "I had noticed."

"There are more rumors that the Dark Lord is out there, gaining strength. This, we believe, is the strongest sign yet!"

"We?" Snape asked coolly.

"I've been talking with some of the others. They've felt it too." Malfoy moved to sit on the edge of the couch, his eyes flashing with passion. "We've decided it's time to again make a stand. We've a plan to do it during the last game of the World Cup, where everyone will see that the true followers of the Dark Lord have never left and will herald his coming."

"You mean, to try to save face if the Dark Lord really does return?" Snape replied, ignoring Malfoy's look of insolence. "That's the most asinine idea I've heard in years, Lucius. Do you think that the Ministry hasn't planned for trouble? You and your little gang of followers might as well carry gigantic banners emblazoned with 'arrest me'! And if I'm correct, Azkaban is exactly what you all were trying to avoid by keeping your noses so clean these last thirteen years. I see little reason to ruin things now."

"But the Dark Lord..." Malfoy began with rage

"The Dark Lord knows who his faithful followers are without any crazy stunts performed in his honor." Snape sat forward in his chair and glared. "You will accomplish nothing but drawing unneeded attention to yourselves and erasing any semblance of dignity the Dark Mark stands for. If we are truly needed, he will call us."

Malfoy glared back, pursing his lips. "Then I suppose it is of no use to ask you to join us."

"I'm afraid I wasn't lucky enough to be handed tickets for the World Cup," Snape quipped.

"Perhaps the real reason you are discouraging us is because your devotion is not with the Dark Lord, but with that ancient gnome, Dumbledore, and The Brat Who Lived?" Malfoy spat out the accusation like gristle.

Instead of allowing his composure to slip and strike the man down with the flick of his wand, Snape smiled menacingly. "I'm sure you would like to believe that, for it would allow you the opportunity to perhaps undo the damage your cowardice has brought. Did you know your jealousy was so obvious?" he sneered amusedly. "The Dark Lord knows who turned and hid and who remained loyal and waited patiently for his next order, as any devoted servant would."

"So you once again get to sit on the fence?" Malfoy raged in return, standing up to tower over Snape's reclined form. "Pledge allegiance to both but never show true valor to either. I'll tell you what the Dark Lord knows, Snape. He knows that you have been a two-faced coward who only wants to save his own greasy hide. When he returns, which you know will be soon, he will undoubtedly exact a proper punishment for a traitor like you."

Snape rose from his chair also to stand nose to nose with Malfoy.

"Don't call me a coward," he breathed with venom. "I have risked everything for the Dark Lord. Something you cannot fathom while you hide away in your opulent manor hoping that no one notices that your only allegiance is to yourself and your family vault in Gringotts. Go on and make a fool of yourself if you wish, if you think it will change anything. But do NOT come here and question my loyalties nor attempt to understand my actions. It will be far too advanced work for your soft, little brain."

"Why you..." Malfoy sputtered with loathing as he attempted to reach for his wand.

But before he could even retrieve it from his cloak, Snape had his own pressed into Malfoy's neck, eyeing him with a blistering calm.

"No heroics needed here today, Malfoy," Snape said quietly. "There are no witnesses to pronounce you worthy of the Dark Lord's gratitude if you strike me dead. You'll simply be a murderer. And surely you don't want to risk a life sentence over something with so little glory. Now leave and do not come back until it is time. We'll meet again, I'm sure. Meanwhile, if you get yourself locked in Azkaban, remember I said, 'I told you so.'"

Malfoy left, nearly purple with rage, and his eyes bulging with repressed fury. But he spoke no more.

Snape knew the conceited bastard would run back to his little troop to report that Snape was not with them, so that meant he must be against them. His continued presence at Hogwarts was only proving his dissention from the ranks of true followers. But Snape didn't worry. There was only one person he need convince of his continued faith. Until that person showed up, Snape was determined to stay as he was, a quiet subordinate to Albus Dumbledore.

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

The news of the disaster at the final World Cup in the Daily Prophet elicited a groan from Snape over his morning tea as he read the headlines. They were truly as stupid as he had feared. All this bravado and spectacle just to parade a few helpless Muggles through a campsite. The only bit of ambition he saw was the use of the Dark Mark in the sky. Whoever had decided to send it up understood its power even after all these years.

Snape headed back to Hogwarts, his mind still occupied with the conversation with Malfoy and the events at the World Cup. The one comforting thought was that it had pushed the disturbing obsession with Davindra and the Vision Well from his head for the time being.

Once settled in, Dumbledore called everyone together for the first meeting of the year to discuss the Triwizard Tournament. Snape hadn't realized that Karkaroff had taken a position as Headmaster at Durmstrang. He supposed that "cowering former Death Eater" was not an occupation that supplied much of an income. So now the man was off perverting and brainwashing a whole new generation.

Even worse than the arrival of one of Snape's former associates was the news that yet another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was being brought in. Neither Snape nor Dumbledore had broached the subject to one another. Snape had grown weary of begging and being irrevocably insulted year after year. Dumbledore continued in his casual discount of Snape's abilities and desires for the position.

In stark comparison to Karkaroff's arrival, Mad Eye Moody would be flanking Snape at the staff table. Moody had worked hard to get him dumped into Azkaban, and then howled like a stuck pig when less than a month later, he was walking the streets free, assuming his post at Hogwarts.

Both men would invariably be watching Snape for signs of anything dark or menacing. Karkaroff would take it as a chance to latch on to Snape for protection, for he had run and hidden like a timid dog after the Dark Lord's downfall. Moody, however, would not miss another chance to put Snape back in Azkaban for good. Snape sat grinding his teeth in rage for the majority of the meeting, causing himself a painful headache that only a large amount of wine and calming draught could clear.

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

Students began arriving, and the usual cheerful bedlam ensued. Snape again had to rush to make it to the house sorting and feast on time. Once settled in his chair, his eyes swept the Slytherin table to see many familiar faces. Draco Malfoy glared at him and gave a snarl of distaste before he turned to speak with Vincent Crabbe. Obviously, Lucius didn't think twice about involving his young son in his own witless deeds.

Without thinking, Snape's eyes then swept over to the Ravenclaw table. Almost instantly he found Davindra, gracefully perched on the edge of her bench, chatting merrily with a girl across the table. She laughed at something that was said, then paused and looked down the line of students' heads to return Snape's gaze. Her smile vanished and was replaced with a stern, chilly look with no hint of pleasure or relief at the sight of him. She eventually broke the enervating scrutiny and went back to her conversation as though Snape's presence had never been noticed.

'My, I seem to be on everyone's shit-list already,' he mused. 'I wonder if that is a new personal record?'

Legilimency wasn't needed to know exactly what was going through Davindra's mind. She was loathing him for disappointing and abandoning her. Snape took a long swallow of mead and repeated the mantra he had chanted since her letter had arrived: 'I will not play into her games, I will not be sucked in, I will not allow her any control.' He didn't give her another glance for the rest of the evening.

The first day of classes were the usual whirlwind, except now everything was accentuated with the enthusiastic chatter about the upcoming Triwizard Tournament and the arrival of new students. It was like trying to reign in wild centaurs to get them to focus on any task put before them.

Fifth-year Potions would be daunting. Snape dreaded it more than any class he had to face. Though he knew he would be speaking heavily about the upcoming O.W.L. exams, there was still the battle to not let Davindra shake his concentration.

She came into the room along with everyone else and took her usual spot. She talked with her friend and dug about in her bag, completely ignoring Snape's presence in the room. Even after he began speaking in his customary sharp, icy tone, she acted as though she were listening to nothing any more important than birds twittering.

The rigors of the impending exams and the O.W.L. requirements to continue with Potions study seemed to not interest her in the least. Her eyes stayed on her open scroll of paper, and her quill moved about it mindlessly. As he spoke, Snape glided about the room until he was behind her shoulder and could peer over at her doodling.

"And if any of you think you can coast your way through this year's lessons," he continued, "and carry on in the study of Potions in N.E.W.T. level, you are sorely mistaken. Miss Collins, what is it that is so engrossing that you feel the need to ignore me when I speak of your imminent future?"

He reached down to grab the parchment from her desk. It appeared to be a rather unflattering caricature of himself with an enormous nose and bat wings. The word "git" was scribbled nearby.

"It would behoove you to put more effort into preparation for your O.W.L. because it is clear that you have no talent for a career in art. " He glared down at her venomously, though she didn't so much as glance at him. Snape touched his wand to the parchment, which vanished in a flash of flame.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, and I think you warrant a detention, Miss Collins," he uttered blandly as he walked away.

But through his back he could feel her burning, acidic glare.

As class ended, Davindra made no efforts to move from her spot at the desk. She still sat staring at him with a deep, dark malice. Snape, likewise, said nothing and went about his usual tasks after a lesson, until finally, after several silent moments, he heard her rise from her seat.

Davindra walked toward his desk with a furious stomp, reaching down her shirt and bringing out the binding amulet Snape had draped over her neck the day of her father's funeral. Taking the amulet and chain and balling it up in her hand, she threw it down in front of him.

"Why did you even bother to give it to me if you never intended to use it?" she spat angrily.

"Were you ever in mortal danger?" he asked silkily, his eyes trailing from the crystal on his desk to her furiously flashing eyes.

"Mortal danger? Oh, I'm terribly sorry that I was never dangling off the edge of a cliff or suffering from an Unforgivable Curse!" she shouted. "I didn't realize that things needed to be that grim before I could get your attention. You said 'if I ever needed you.' Well, I needed you! And you never came."

Snape eyed her in cold silence for a moment. The truth of the situation would probably paralyze her with shock. He wondered if that would truly be any worse than the look of loathing, heartbreak, and despair that currently blanketed her.

"Miss Collins, that amulet was not meant to be used like an owl every time you started feeling down and depressed," he began calmly. "I did not ever intend to be your confidant or your counselor. I'm terribly sorry that you misinterpreted my meaning. The fact of the matter is that I DID look in on you several times during the summer, and though you did seem to be suffering from grief, you appeared as well as could be expected. So, despite your dramatic accusations of neglect and fraud, the amulet did serve its purpose quite well." 'And then some,' he thought cynically.

She continued to stare at him with scorn and fury. "Why couldn't you have made yourself known, if you were around?"

"It wasn't feasible nor necessary."

"Didn't you think that even just that, just knowing you were there, might have helped?" she asked desperately. "That's all that I wanted really."

Snape glared back darkly. "As I said, the purpose was never to be called in to hold your hand! That's what your family is for. Why you didn't take full advantage of it is not my problem."

He was beginning to lose some of the heavily bridled control of his temper. He had never envisioned being interrogated about his reasons for giving her the crystal. At least not by her.

"You didn't even answer my letter," she said more quietly and sadly.

Snape let out a hiss of aggravation. "I knew I would be seeing you in a few weeks. We could discuss preparation for your O.W.L.s then. I was very busy at that time and couldn't be bothered with casual correspondences."

"You couldn't be bothered," she repeated tonelessly. "Or was it that my grandmother hadn't paid you enough to cover summer work? I was so stupid to think that..." She stopped suddenly and shook her head very slightly in defeat.

Reaching into her book bag ,she pulled out a letter she tossed onto his desk along side the amulet.

"This is from Grandmother," she said with equal emptiness. "She said you could do with it as you wish. Don't worry, I haven't read it. Only you can open it."

She had turned to go when Snape's voice called out to her. She stopped and slowly turned to face him.

"Remember, you do have detention to serve." He gave a slight smile as he spoke. "Let's say this Friday night at six."

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

Snape didn't open the letter immediately. He waited until the evening when he was alone in his personal chambers and could savor the message with a glass of wine spiked with calming draught. The seal on the letter didn't budge when he tried to open it. But when he spoke, "I am Severus Snape, Potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," it softly popped open in his hands.

Dear Severus, it began.

I had something quite tempting in mind for you this year, when a completely new piece of information fell into my lap. One that I believe would be of greater value than any bribe I could afford you.

Not long after the fiasco at the Quidditch World Cup, I had a visitor. Lucius Malfoy begged a meeting with me. Though I knew him mostly by reputation, I agreed to the meeting out of sheer curiosity. It proved to be a very informative visit. The great Mr. Malfoy seems to feel he is in need of some powerful protective magic for his family, though I suspect it is also for himself. He expressed great concern over the Dark Lord's return and the fact that he has done much to incur his former master's wrath. Mr. Malfoy was seeking anything that could assure that his family would not be touched when the Dark Lord returns and learns of Mr. Malfoy's many transgressions regarding his devotion to his master. He mentioned specifically a book that he had stupidly "thrown away" because he believed the Dark Lord never to return to call for it. Even mentioning it seemed to make him fearful! And it seems he isn't the only one. Mr. Malfoy talked of many of the former Death Eaters beginning to fear what punishment awaited them when the Dark Lord returned, which he expressed total faith in happening quite soon.

He offered me a great deal of money, which I have no need for. Malcolm left me quite well off. He offered anything I could name, if I could only give him some modicum of security. I decided that having him in my debt would be the best compensation, though I did accept a small monetary fee to seal the agreement. What I have given him won't disparage a truly infuriated dark lord set on revenge. I don't know of anything that could. But it may have brought him some peace of mind.

What set me on edge about this interview was not his news of the Dark Lord's return or his bartering; it was the questions Mr. Malfoy asked about Davindra. It was not just conversational politeness after our deal had been struck. He asked of her time at Hogwarts, of her marks, if she was excelling in Potions as everyone had assumed, and if you were involved in her accomplishments. Worst of all, he commented that he had heard of her allure and charm from his son and that after seeing her for himself (where, I do not know) he had to agree whole-heartedly that she was a rare beauty possessed of "extravagant, untapped potential."

Severus, I am not a naïve witch who is ignorant of her granddaughter's appearance nor her effect on the opposite sex. It's in her heritage. I know men of all ages look at her longingly. I've seen it many times. Snape shuddered at the unflinching truth of the statement, but read on. But there was something supremely eerie about how this man spoke of her. I find it completely unnerving and worthy of suspicion.

The information I have relayed to you is yours to do with as you wish. Report to Dumbledore, report back to the Death Eaters. It matters not to me. I will remain neutral in this particular battle and reap my own benefits. However, in exchange for my loose lips in anything pertaining to my services for Mr. Malfoy and any of his kind, I want to ask that you not only continue Davindra's tutoring, but also keep a very close eye on her safety. Be especially vigilant of the Malfoy boy. We do not know what errands he might be attempting on his father's behalf. Write me of anything untoward that might arise or of any needs you may have that I can assist in.

Sincerely,

Demelza Collins

Snape reread the letter several times. It was indeed packed with intriguing information. Why had Malfoy gone to Madame Collins of all people? Perhaps he knew something of her supposed involvement with the Dark Lord. How did he think Madame Collins could protect him? But it did prove he was scared. Very scared.

And why would he have brought up Davindra? What was she besides a classmate of his son? Snape remembered last year in the hospital wing and the many times he had seen them exchanging friendly words. Perhaps Malfoy had an interest in Davindra because of his son's attention to her. Or perhaps Malfoy was just showing more of his true colors. Snape's stomach clinched at the memories.

He and most every member of the Death Eaters had done things they wouldn't have normally considered in their most murderous dreams because it was ordered by the Dark Lord. When the command was kill, rape, steal, and maim, or else be killed, one rarely had to think twice. Snape found very hollow but slight pleasure in his commissions at first. But after one too many gruesome raids and pillages, he found that he had no stomach for it at all.

There was nothing that the Dark Lord considered taboo, so no enemy was spared from the degradation of being violated, abused, or killed in the most undignified ways possible. Snape had done many, many things under the guise of pleasure that gave him nothing but a sickening feeling of maddening guilt. Malfoy, on the other hand, never seemed to tire of the tasks. He especially loved to interrogate, humiliate, and torture. And he was good at it. He had an affinity for lovely young girls, but it hadn't stopped there. Pretty young men and those with especially weak constitutions seemed to arouse his attention also.

Was it possible that Malfoy had been SENT to Madame Collins under the pretense of asking for help, but actually to entrap her? Could Davindra then be the thing that would be used as leverage to get the woman do Malfoy's or the Dark Lord's bidding?

An astonishing coldness swept through Snape as he considered the danger that Davindra could be in. Snape gathered parchment and quill and began composing his reply to Madame Collins. He outlined his suspicions of Malfoy in very broad detail and said that as long as Davindra was within Hogwarts walls, she was safe. He added that Madame Collins herself should take precautions for herself in case she was indeed being set up for a trap.

The only way Snape knew that he was going to be able to keep a close eye on Davindra was to make up with her. There was no way she would allow him to stay close if she spent the whole year angry at him, no matter if she was in love with him or not. He felt a bitter resignation at realizing he was going to have to come up with some very smooth words to undo the damage he had done.

As far as what he would do with the other information Madame Collins had given him, he decided to just sit on it for the time being. Things would play out more clearly in the coming months, he felt confident. And when they did, Snape would know exactly where to place this knowledge.

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

Davindra continued her surly, cold demeanor for the rest of the week, barely giving him a glance or a grunt during class time. It could have easily garnered her more detention, but torturing himself with more of her presence didn't seem worth it, Snape concluded. He regarded her coolly in return, though he did small things to attempt to melt the icy wall between them. Ignoring her continued distracted anger, he over-looked it when her potion turned a vivid green instead of a pearly white because she had not waited to add the billywig. Though, when one of the Gryffindors did the same thing, he made quite a show of ridiculing her and vanishing her potion. Snape gave Davindra a low but passing grade for her attempt. She eyed him warily after receiving the grade, but he could tell some of the venom had left her.

The night of the detention she arrived on time, though cloaked in a familiar haughty resentment. She stood with her long, thin arms crossed over her chest and her pale jade eyes looking anywhere in the room but at him.

"Miss Collins," he began softly, rising from his desk to begin a slow pace about the room. "I'm afraid I've made a mistake I must apologize for."

He had to take a hard swallow to continue. It felt so uncomfortable to grovel in front of this child. She finally looked at him, but it was with a suspicious eye.

"The amulet was not meant for casual communication, but I did tell you that if you needed me, I would be available to you. I did not specify that it had to be an emergency, and so therefore you cannot be faulted for attempting to use it when you believed my presence was needed. I do acknowledge that what you went through this summer was very difficult, and I'm sure that you could have used another shoulder to lean on during those times. I'm sorry I wasn't available to you."

Her looked changed from suspicious to downright shock. But he pressed on.

"And I am also sorry that I did not do you the courtesy of at least replying to your letter. It was very rude of me, and all I can offer for an explanation is that the end of the summer is always a hurried, chaotic time for me. I let my own manners lapse because of it. So, if you will accept my apology, we could get on with the matter of your detention."

When she did not reply, he looked to find her gaping at him in astonishment.

"Have you gone completely off your broomstick?" she asked in shock. "You've never apologized to me for anything in five years, and you expect me to buy that load of dragon shit now?"

Snape returned a look of equal surprise to her, though he felt anger boiling up quickly behind it.

"Did my grandmother put you up to this? She must have really paid you off well to get that kind of sentiment out of you," she continued.

"How dare you..." Snape began in a rage. No amount of possible danger would allow for her to talk to him like that. But then he caught the old familiar look of victorious pleasure on her face as she bated him. There was a faint smile forming on her lips and a fire in her eyes. He hadn't seen this bold, defiant, wickedly cunning side of her since before her father became ill. He had forgotten what enjoyment she seemed to take in the game of antagonizing him. Suddenly it was rather funny that she had seen through his ruse. It was almost like a worthy and respected adversary had returned to challenge him.

He gathered himself up to his full height and looked down his nose at the brash young woman before him, who was still vaguely amused at his attempt at humility. A slight smile touched his own lips, curling them into wry smirk.

"So, you don't wish to accept my apology for something that you expressed egregious insult over just days ago?" he asked.

Davindra snorted a laugh. "It's more that I don't believe it. Why don't you try telling me what this is really about?"

Snape pursed his lips and thought as he stared down into her penetrating eyes, her inky lashes slowly blinking in an sensual manner he found uncomfortable, yet hard to ignore.

"Three more years I am going to have to deal with you," he said calmly as he walked closer, coming to stand immediately in front of her. "There is no way out of it. I don't wish to fight with you. I do wish for our times together to be succinct, productive, and drama-free. No yelling, no pouting, no tantrums, no provoking me just for sport. I don't have the energy for it."

They stood almost as closely as they had in the cemetery the day of the funeral. She looked at him with a soft expression that Snape now recognized as a bare flicker of the emotions that coursed deep within her. Her eyes seemed to search his, to travel about his face, settling on his lips as he spoke, then trail back to his unwavering gaze.

"Believe it or not, I do mean the apology I've given you. Perhaps it was a bit over-rehearsed, but the message is the same. I wish to put that behind us and begin this year without the trappings of previous transgressions and arguments hanging over us."

The heat from their bodies seemed to combine to make the normally chilly room suddenly stifling. Snape resisted the urge to throw off his robe and unbutton his high collar. Instead he stood firmly, returning her intense look, all too easily reading the slightly illicit tinge her thoughts had taken with him so close to her. It was requiring all his concentration to remember to breathe calmly and evenly. Her gaze seemed to be pressing into him like a weight, squeezing out disturbing, disjointed images from the Vision Well's last application.

"Do we have an agreement, Miss Collins?" Snape broke in.

Again her eyes dipped to his mouth and her tongue unconsciously slipped lightly over the corner of her upper lip. A most effective distraction Snape found his own eyes drawn to.

"Yes."

Her words brought him back from the edge of a very dangerous abyss. Snape nodded at her acquiescence and stepped away, feeling a weightlessness rush over him as he drew out of her hypnotic pull.

"However," he announced as he spun around and raised a finger before her face, "our time together will be handled with great discretion and propriety. I will not have the rumors of last year resurface, nor will I tolerate any more misguided contrivances from you."

Davindra seemed to blush slightly in the apples of her cheeks as he spoke, but her strong stare didn't break. Snape dared one step closer, though still keeping enough distance to not allow for a mixed message to be delivered with his words.

"The lessons and exchanges that happen between us take place behind closed doors only. There will be no ambushing me in hallways or outside the staff lounge. We will keep our interaction to a necessary minimum in class. Though I have agreed to see to your education and safety, I will not risk my career for it." He made sure his look matched the harsh, serious tone of his words. "Do I make myself clear, Miss Collins?"

Her gaze faltered finally, dipping to his feet as she replied, "Crystal, Professor."

"Good," he pronounced smoothly and turned away again. "Now, for your detention. Since you had such disastrous results with your potion this week, I think it would be in your best interest to try again, since it is quite possible that that particular concoction could appear on your O.W.L exams."

"Will you redo my grade?" Davindra piped in hopefully.

He eyed her reluctantly and considered her request. "I might adjust your grade depending on how well you do this time."

She smiled with an air of accomplishment at the compromise and set about gathering her supplies.

A peaceful familiarity settled in the room as she began her potion, and Snape focused on work at his desk. Periodically, he would sneak a glance in her direction. The potion seemed to be coming along perfectly this time with no anger and resentment to cloud her thoughts.

Suddenly, he realized that he seemed to no longer consider her presence distracting and unnerving. He felt more calm than he had in some time with her cozily tucked into the corner of his office. There was still a desire to be on guard and vigilant of her conduct toward him, and he certainly had no desire to be close to her because of the suffocating confusion it caused him. But her just being within his sight, so he could occasionally look at her or speak to her, felt right and safe. Yes, at least she was safe.

He cleared his throat to get her attention before he spoke. "Miss Collins, do you know Mr. Malfoy?" He began his quest casually.

"Draco's father?" she asked as she cleaned her chopping knife. "Well, I don't know him. I've seen him, been introduced to him."

"Where?"

"Diagon Alley," she seemed to think for a moment. "Last year, I believe. I ran into them at the bookstore."

"What did he say to you?" Snape pressed, though still careful to keep any suspicion out of his question.

"I don't remember," Davindra replied with an annoyed tone. "It was a while ago. It was probably just, 'nice to meet you,' and such. Why are you asking?"

"No reason," Snape said smoothly. "He seems to remember meeting you, that's all. Is there anything between you and Draco of a romantic notion?"

Davindra smirked. "You mean the boy who called me names and put me in a mud puddle? We're friends is all, which I figured you'd approve of since he is in your house. I might find him a little more interesting if I was allowed to have more than two words with him without that Parkinson cow dragging him off like a dog on a chain. I don't know how he stands her!"

Snape nearly smiled in return. He had noticed that Pansy Parkinson indeed had Draco Malfoy harnessed and broken for some time now.

"Why the sudden interest in me and the Malfoys?" Davindra asked again.

Snape went back to his work. "No reason," he reiterated with a silky croon to his voice.

There was blissful silence until she left him later that evening with a warm, coy smile and a murmur of, "'Night, Professor."

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

With Davindra now pacified and more than compliant to his wishes, Snape felt his days were less stressful. He didn't round every corner with dread, fearing she was on the other side awaiting him. She kept to the agreement and never approached him outside of class and even rarely in class. Though often they exchanged carefully hidden glances in passing or across the Great Hall.

Their time spent together was also much more pleasant because there was something very specific for them both to focus on. Snape quizzed her endlessly about potion-making and ingredients. She concocted potions sometimes two and three times to get them exactly right. Often she would ask him about other disciplines in which she felt she was having trouble. Though he insisted that areas like History of Magic and Transfiguration were not his expertise, she still appeared grateful for any insight he gave.

She ceased her intense, amorous, paralyzing looks, and Snape felt that he could finally put the awful images of the past that plagued him to rest. There wasn't a single argument or uncomfortable instance for many blessed weeks.

After the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons arrived, the atmosphere at the school elevated to frenzy. He almost felt sorry for the new students being the object of all the gawking and whispering done in the halls and dormitories of Hogwarts.

Karkaroff had greeted Snape with cool, wary eyes and a suspicious grimace. He returned the look and hoped that the former cowardly Death Eater would know that he would be under heavy scrutiny while in Snape's territory.

The Goblet of Fire spat out Harry Potter's name to the amazement of everyone. Snape's first thought was that somehow the boy had figured a way to get around the age line and put his name in himself.

'Afraid a year might go by where you aren't the center of attention, Potter?' Snape glibly imagined as the boy walked passed him to join the other champions.

Karkaroff and Maxime fumed over Harry's acceptance as the fourth champion. But Bagman and Crouch stayed strong and Dumbledore backed them. Again Hero Potter was going to get center stage and never see an ounce of punishment for breaking the rules. It almost made Snape want to defect to one of the other schools.

After everyone trickled out to their respective quarters, Minerva McGonagall and Snape remained behind with Dumbledore. The three stood staring at each other for a moment.

"Well, you can't let him do this, Albus!" McGonagall stated with exasperation. "He's only fourteen! He doesn't have the education or training he needs to even begin to compete with seventeen-year-olds."

"You heard Barty, Minerva," Dumbledore said with a weary shrug. "It's a binding contract. Harry has to go through with it."

"Are you certain that you don't doubt the boy's insistence that he did not put his own name into the Goblet, sir?" Snape tested cautiously.

"I don't see how he could have done it, even if he wanted to, Severus. No, I don't doubt him. I think we can all see that he was clearly as perplexed by the events of this evening as we are."

"But how will he survive this?" McGonagall asked, sounding sad and desperate.

"You both know we have taken extra measures to ensure that no real harm will befall the champions." Dumbledore's words were spoken grimly as the old wizard moved slowly about the room. "The threat of death is only an illusion left in place to give the tournament a true sense of drama and honor. But I do worry for his safety. Most importantly, I worry about who did put his name into the Goblet. For whoever did it certainly didn't have Harry's best interest at heart."

The three exchanged more contemplative looks.

"Do you have any ideas, Headmaster?" Snape asked.

"None that make any real sense, Severus." Dumbledore continued his slow pace of the room.

Since no clear answers were forthcoming, the group decided to retire and see what the next day brought when Dumbledore ask for a moment of Snape's time. After McGonagall had exited the room, he began.

"Severus, there is something bothering me that only you will understand," Dumbledore spoke gravely.

He motioned for Snape to join him near the fire before he continued.

"There is only one reason that Harry would have importance to anyone, outside of his immediate friends and teachers. And that is his link to Lord Voldemort."

Snape flinched at the sound of the name, but remained steady and fixated on the Headmaster's words.

"The events at the World Cup, what happened this evening, and several other seemingly unrelated events all having me seriously concerned that there are forces and people attempting to hasten Voldemort's return."

'Again, that name.'

"You believe whoever put his name in the Goblet is a supporter of the Dark Lord and hopes that Harry will die in his pursuit of the Triwizard Cup," Snape summarized.

Dumbledore nodded glumly. "His being singled out always makes me suspicious. He needs our protection now more than ever. We can't help him through the tasks he has to face in the Triwizard Tournament, but we must be vigilant in his safety in all other areas. I know I don't even need to ask for your most determined efforts in this."

The last sentence was spoken as a pointed command, though delivered with the same quiet, even tone. Snape stood staring at the Headmaster as he considered the extra attention that he was being asked to give to the already egomaniacal whelp.

Perhaps it was the pained look on Snape's face that made the Headmaster add, "You may not like who he is, or where he came from, Severus, but he is needed. You know that."

The prophecy. Snape remembered all to well what was spoken in that room above The Hogs Head Tavern, and how it had led to his downfall and his salvation. He felt now that Dumbledore was wishing for him to remember all that was brought to light by that event and how none of them were the same after it was spoken.

Suddenly, Snape began to unbutton his cuff and pushed up his sleeve. He then thrust his bare forearm toward Dumbledore. The old man gently took the offered arm and pulled it closer to the light of the fire, his fingers lightly tracing the faint but easily recognized lines of the Dark Mark.

"It's been tingling and burning, growing a bit darker since this past summer, around the time of the World Cup," Snape said quietly.

Dumbledore raised his bright eyes to Snape and let go of his arm which Snape covered as quickly as possible, feeling almost stripped naked in the baring of the contemptible mark.

Snape let out a breath and decided he now had to disclose everything. He told Dumbledore of the visit from Malfoy and of Madame Collins's letter and her suspicions regarding Davindra's safety.

"You weren't sure you wanted to tell me these things," the Headmaster stated with a knowing smile.

"I wasn't sure how important they were, until now." Snape forced him mind blank as he spoke the half truth.

The old wizard sighed and once again took to his slow pacing. "It's so easy to look back to the time right before Voldemort's rise to power and identify where we misinterpreted the signs and what we should have done differently. Yet, we find ourselves in the same predicament, and I fear the old mistakes are inevitably to be repeated." He turned to gaze back at Snape still standing by the fireplace. "What about you, Severus? Are you prepared to take up your old occupation if the need arises?"

A burning sensation began in Snape's gut, though he kept his face placid. "If that is what is required of me."

"Do you think they'd take you back in, or as Mr. Malfoy has pointed out, have they identified you as a traitor?"

"I think it all depends upon if I come bearing something of value to them."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "And you may very well indeed have that, when the time comes."

There was a graveness in his voice that suddenly gave Snape a very unsettled feeling. But before he could press the Headmaster, he moved on.

"You know, Severus, as educators we are told it's never fair to have favorites. No one student should garner more attention or special treatment than any other," he said moving back to the fireplace. "But we all know how hard it is to always do everything by the book. I am no example to lead from. It's quite transparent that my feelings and concerns for Harry Potter go beyond conscientious Headmaster. Maybe its because he's been more or less in my care since he was an infant. So you see, it's very human to have extra interest in particular students, especially if you see something very special in them."

Dumbledore gave Snape a meaningful look and a slight shrewd smile, then continued.

"Davindra Collins is a clever, talented young witch from a family of tenacious, ingenious women. Madame Collins would never allow for her granddaughter to be anything but exceptional. She's a force to be reckoned with, though not one prone to flights of fancy. If she's worried, then it's for good reason. Do what you must, Severus."

Dumbledore gave Snape a firm but friendly stare over his spectacles. "Just remember where your fidelity lies."

Snape returned the Headmaster's gaze, wondering what exactly was meant by the last comment. But of course, Dumbledore gave no clue to its hidden meaning with his sedate manner and assuring smile. Snape had started to leave the room when the old wizard spoke again.

"You do understand why you have not been given the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, don't you?"

It was a shocking thing to be suddenly asked when for years Snape had refrained from asking that very direct question. He didn't respond right away because he wasn't sure what he should say.

Dumbledore stared into the fire, not at him as he spoke. "That position seems to work as a Floo directly out of Hogwarts and all good wizarding society. It has been ever since Tom Riddle asked for the job. I can't afford to lose you, Severus. Not now. You're more than a last resort for that post. I can't say it won't happen, but I'm certainly not ready for it yet."

If Snape had any ability to blush, he might be doing so. It had never occurred to him that the reason he was kept out of that job was because he was considered too valuable to lose. He thought of all the times he'd considered quitting because he had been passed over.

He cleared his throat slightly to make sure he would sound dispassioned when he spoke. "I am humbled by your trust and confidence in me, Headmaster. I pledge to not disappoint you."

Dumbledore turned to gaze at him. The old man suddenly looked ancient, tired, and pallid in the weak firelight. He nodded slightly to Snape and murmured a 'Good night,' signaling that the meeting was truly dismissed.

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

The following weeks gave Snape plenty of time to second guess his divulging of information to Dumbledore. For the moment things seemed equable, and he wondered if he should have held out longer, waiting for clearer signs to show. At least no harm had come of his talking as of yet.

To cheer him, there was the fact that more than half the school believed that Harry Potter was as big of a fraud as Snape had always suspected him to be. It gave him immense pleasure to know that the ruse that Potter had worked so hard to generate had come back to bite him squarely on the ass. No one was impressed that an uppity fourteen year old had been accepted into the tournament. Even Potter's friends seemed to find displeasure in his blustering bravado.

Karkaroff was finally speaking to Snape, though not with any congeniality. It was mostly to complain about the situation with Potter and rant of its unfairness. Snape would tell him to take it up with the Headmaster or the Ministry of Magic because he had no say or influence in the matter. The man would glower at him and come close to saying something else, perhaps about something weighing heavily on his mind, but he would stop and walk away, muttering what Snape could only assume was Bulgarian.

As suspected, Moody kept a watchful eye on Snape and Karkaroff. Though there was something distinctly off in his character. Though he knew Moody to be a paranoid, grizzled, old crackpot, there was little doubt that he was still sharp as a blade when it came to knowing dark magic and wizards. But when Snape made a mention of a Death Eater who Moody always assumed Snape was working very closely with, and who had disappeared days before Snape was arrested, Moody only gave a blank stare and a grunt. He would have figured that the ex-Auror would still be enthused to track down the one that got away. Perhaps he was as far gone as everyone said.

Not long before the first challenge was to take place, Snape sat at the staff table picking at his breakfast when he noticed a commotion at the Ravenclaw table. It seemed to center around Davindra. Several students appeared with small gifts, giving hugs and smiles. One box exploded into confetti and balloons that made Davindra laugh with glee and begin tossing the confetti onto her friends. Snape looked about to see if any of the other staff found it as annoying and distracting as he did. But the few who seemed to notice only smiled slightly, and the others went on with their tea and newspapers.

Later they were alone in his office, and she had decided to dust the various jars on his shelves as he tossed out questions about antidotes. After she correctly got ten answers in a row, he paused and watched her take out a jar filled with dragon intestine, make a face, then wipe it with a rag and set it back.

"So what was all the fuss about this morning?" he asked.

She returned a mischievous smile. "Oh, you mean all those mysterious balloons and presents? Today's my birthday."

He knew it was her birthday. Though he hadn't remembered the date, he knew it was during this time of year. But he liked her thinking he was oblivious to it.

"Was it important to make such a show of it?"

"That wasn't me! That was my friends' doing to surprise me at breakfast." She sounded exasperated at his ignorance, and he tried not to smirk and ruin the artifice.

"So you would be sixteen, is it?" he continued in a low, disinterested voice.

"Yes, most do turn sixteen in their fifth year. So are you trying to say that you didn't get me anything?" She tossed him an amused look over her shoulder that he pretended not to see.

"I'm allowing you to poke around my office while I help ensure that you don't miserably fail your O.W.L. exams," he said in a deadpan voice. "You're welcome, by the way."

"But we do this at least once a week!"

"So you're covered on birthday gifts from me until you are thirty-eight." Snape stood up from his chair and stretched.

"I suppose that's more than I expected," Davindra said with a snicker.

"Besides, last time I gave you a gift, it ended up being a point of contention," Snape murmured as he began searching his bookshelves for new material to quiz her on.

"I thought that was supposed to be behind us?" she asked, a tone of seriousness creeping into her voice.

He realized too late that he should have kept his mouth shut. "You're right," he sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything."

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room as they both went about their tasks, attempting to forget what had just been spoken.

Snape found a book he thought might be useful and took it down from the shelf when her quiet voice broke the air.

"You know, even if the amulet didn't do what I wanted it to do, I still found comfort in it."

He didn't turn to look at her, but he raised his head to listen.

"Just having something from you, something that reminded me of you," she continued in the same soft tone, "made me feel better. It made me feel close to you, even if you weren't there."

Again the heavy silence fell as Snape said nothing.

She gave a slight laugh and said, "Funny, but I guess I miss it because nearly every morning I reach for it around my neck and think I've lost it in my sleep. Then I remember, I don't ha... that I gave it back to you."

Snape shut the book he had opened but not actually read a word of during her speech. He walked over to another shelf and took down a box, sitting it on his desk. Inside was the amulet she had thrown at him the first day of class. He untangled the chain and walked to Davindra, again draping it around her neck and letting it fall against her chest.

A smile spread across her face as she took the crystal in her hand and squeezed it.

If there was truly danger ahead, it was best that Snape have all the help he could get in keeping a line on her. Though the Vision Well would have to be reconstructed, it wouldn't be as arduous of a task the second time around. He would just have to remember to heavily temper his use of it, if it even worked inside of Hogwarts. But if the amulet made her feel safe as well as build her trust in him, then it alone more than served a purpose.

"Happy Birthday, Miss Collins," he said, careful to keep his words removed and short.

Still she smiled and looked into him lovingly. He turned to go, but a hand on his arm stopped him. His heart quickened with dread at her touch. She leaned in and placed a soft, gentle kiss near the corner of his mouth. As soon as her lips left him, he felt the spot burn with heat and cold.

"Do you not remember our arrangement?" he spoke firmly, though he felt as though he were shaking. "There was to be no..."

"Shh, shh, shh," she soothed, her hand patting his arm. "It's my birthday," she whispered and again smiled.

Stepping away, Davindra tucked the amulet down her top and said, "I think I'll go now. But thank you, Professor."

She left him standing, fixed in his spot, the feeling of an out of control cold fire spreading through his entire body.

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

Snape could have made quite an issue about what happened in his office, but going against his own gut instinct, he chose not to. He figured the best way to discourage any fractious behavior in the future was to pretend like the intimate moment hadn't happened at all. Surprisingly, his tactic worked. Neither of them made any more mention of it, and both continued in their amiable manners when alone together -- though Snape made sure to stay at least an arm's length away from her at all times for fear that she might take any bodily contact as an invitation to continue her advances. Instead, Davindra seemed happy to just have the time with him and her amulet back.

The announcement of the Yule Ball pushed the level of excitement in the school to maximum. The news had girls practically floating off the floor, while the boys nearly sank down into it. When Snape spoke to his house, there was no denying the division of enthusiasm. He told them he expected nothing but exemplary behavior and if anyone did anything to embarrass him or the name of Slytherin House, there would be heavy, severe punishment for all. As for learning to dance and finding partners, they were on their own.

He gave it little more thought until a week later when Davindra sat in his office, thumbing through a catalog and paying scant attention to him and the questions he asked her.

"What are you so engrossed in?" he finally demanded impatiently.

She gave an aggravated sigh and tossed the catalog to the floor, and took another from the pile she had brought with her.

"I'm trying to find a dress robe I like. Everything looks so ridiculous! They only make these things for children or old ladies."

"And must you do your shopping during our study time?" he asked incredulously.

"It's hardly three weeks to the ball, and I don't have any robes, or a date, or any idea what to do with this hair!" She sounded almost panicked.

Snape bored a contemptuous look into her. "I'm terribly sorry to have scheduled preparation for you O.W.L. exams right in the middle of your social crisis." Flipping the book in front of him closed, he sat back in his chair to fume.

Suddenly he picked up on the word 'date.' She was concerned about looking just right for someone. She was thinking of herself paired up with someone for a night of dancing and perhaps fumbled kissing and petting in a dark corner.

Davindra continued turning pages as she perched crossed-leg on a high work stool, one foot jiggling nervously, one hand mindlessly twirling a strand of obsidian hair.

Snape was suddenly struck with the reality that she was still so young. So often he had seen maturity far beyond her years in her eyes and her expression. Her stature and composure fooled almost everyone who saw her. But she was nothing more than a sixteen-year-old girl with bright, fanciful dreams of an enchanted ball and fairytale romance.

"Who were you thinking of going with?" To him his voice sounded tight and entirely too interested.

"I don't know. No one has asked me yet."

"Who would you like to go with?"

She stopped flipping pages, bouncing her foot, and twisting her hair to look at him.

That was a stupid question, Snape immediately realized, considering what they both knew.

"What student would you like to go with?" He felt both embarrassed and irritated that it was taking this much work to get an answer from her. "Roger Davies, perhaps?"

"No, I don't think he likes me much since I broke up with him last year. Draco might be nice, but I'd have to lock Pug-face Parkinson in a cupboard to get a chance with him."

That would never do, Snape thought. Madame Collins's warning of the young Malfoy was still prominent in his mind. He had to make sure that she stayed well clear of him. Though he felt certain also that Pansy Parkinson would make sure that she was the one at Draco's side for the ball.

"You know, I hear Harry Potter is pretty desperate to find a date since he's a champion and all."

Snape's eye snapped up to find her smiling devilishly. "Don't even joke about it," he warned darkly.

"He is actually pretty cute," she continued. "Moppy hair, nice eyes, funny, the whole "Boy Who Lived" thing."

"Don't be perverse," Snape growled. "If I see you even glancing his direction, I will make sure you are serving a long, grueling detention the night of the ball."

He dared another glance to find she was smirking madly behind a catalog.

So there were plenty of other undesirables Snape would have to watch out for, such as the entirety of Gryffindor House.

Davindra hopped down from her stool, a catalog in hand and came to stand beside his chair. She dropped the catalog on the desk in front of him and leaned over his shoulder, pointing at a robe on the page.

"What do you think of this one? Do you think that would make me look too tall?"

Snape was suddenly hypersensitive to the feel of her hair as it dangled over his shoulder, the warmth of her arm, and the scent of vanilla and... was it cherry?... that softly wafted around her

He barely glanced at the garment being modeled by a preening, half-starved looking model before handing the catalog back to her. "I am not here to be your fashion advisor, Miss Collins. And for your information, you ARE tall. I don't think anything outside of sitting in a chair all night will disguise that."

She gave a sound of exasperation. "You didn't even look! Listen, I trust your judgment. Can't you just give me your opinion?"

Madame Collins didn't even come close to paying him enough for all the duties this child required of him. Snape held out his hand for the catalog, which Davindra placed in it. He looked at the robe momentarily, then handed it back to her.

"It's too low-cut."

"Really? You can hardly see past my throat!" Davindra looked at the picture again. "Oh, you really aren't any help, are you?"

"Since you are so obviously distracted, I suggest we discontinue study sessions until you have managed to overcome this bothersome little issue," he snapped.

"Just let me find a robe I like, then I'll feel better," she said in a distracted voice and went back to hop onto her stool. "I'm sure a date will turn up."

She spent the entire evening in the corner of his office, making a mess and periodic inane comments about fashion.

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

Snape watched the students closely during the pending weeks before the ball. Never before had he cared who was hooked up with whom or bothered to pay any attention to the absurd courting rituals teenagers orchestrated. But in watching who might have an interest in Davindra, Snape began to take in all of it. He remembered his own hormonal years with vague humiliation.

Very few young women had taken any notice of him, far fewer still were willing to be anything more intimate than a lab partner. There had been only a couple girls that he could count as liaisons during his Hogwarts tenure. A rather attractive, older Slytherin girl had gotten him into a broom cupboard and practically made a man out of him in his fourth year. He had found out quickly afterwards that it had been done on a dare. Though he had burned with rage and mortification, he found it interesting that the girl had been able to fake so much enthusiasm for just a dare. The second girl had been a rather homely but studious Hufflepuff who seemed to appreciate his mind as well as his company. Though she wasn't his ideal and he did much to dissuade her attention in front of his fellow house-mates, she did further his education of the female physic.

Snape imagined that the students now days were further advanced in the lessons of love and sex than he had been by the time he was twenty. Some could probably even tell him a thing or two now. So many seemed filled almost to the breaking point with a lusty drive to attract someone's attention and would do the most outlandish things to get it. The desire to pair up for the Yule Ball heightened the coupling.

Keeping a discrete eye on Davindra, Snape had not seen anyone pay her special attention. Though many boys gave her the usual long, lingering looks as she passed, it seemed none considered her a fair enough date for the ball. Friendly male students would greet her or even exchange a few words but then move on with no mention of the ball. He could spot the look of disappointment after each one left. A much younger Gryffindor did attempt to chat her up and seemed as though he were in the process of leading up to something when Davindra politely but firmly brushed him off. She walked away rolling her eyes with exasperation.

Snape began to believe he would need to take a hand in things when he noticed one of his own house members eyeing her heavily but only when her back was turned. Theodore Nott wasn't popular nor was he an outcast. He was more of a loner. Not ugly nor attractive, stupid nor an exceptional student. He was someone who seemed to slip through the cracks of observation. For that, Snape found he rather liked him. His father had been a Death Eater, who like his son, didn't command a lot of attention, but seemed to always be taking in and contemplating his surroundings.

Snape couldn't walk in to the Slytherin common room without receiving notice, so there was no way to have a private conversation with young Nott about anything there. He sent word that he wanted to see the boy in his office. He showed up a short time later, looking a bit worried and perplexed. He had never gathered particular attention from Snape or any other teacher for anything good or bad.

Knowing it was cruel but unable to resist the temptation, Snape didn't speak right away, but let the boy stand in his gaze, fidgeting fretfully.

"What did you wish to see me about, Professor?" Nott finally asked bravely.

Giving a cool, amused smile, Snape began. "Were you planning on attending the Yule Ball, Mr. Nott?"

The boy shrugged, his entire thin frame seemed to flow with the movement. "Don't know, sir. Hadn't thought about it."

"You weren't thinking of asking someone in particular to accompany you?"

Nott returned a cool gaze. "As I said, sir. I hadn't thought about it."

"You're a decent student, Nott. A decent Quidditch player, you stay out of trouble. Should you not reward yourself with a little festive diversion?"

Though he might have been getting more exasperated with what could be viewed as harassment over his social life, Nott's demeanor only became more detached. Snape again found himself impressed with the lad.

"Really, sir, I hadn't..."

"Yes, yes," Snape snapped at him, "you hadn't thought about it. Well, think about it now, Nott!"

He rose from his desk to approach the boy. Crossing his arms inside his robes, Snape sat on the edge of his desk.

"I noticed that you seemed to fancy a certain Ravenclaw."

Only now did the boy show any break in composure with a flush to his face.

"Now it's nothing to be embarrassed about," Snape continued smoothly. "I'm sure you've noticed most everyone in the school pairing off for the upcoming ball. Have you considered actually talking to her? Asking her to go with you?"

Nott truly broke now. He smiled, then frowned, then laughed nervously as he shuffled his feet and scratched his head. "Uh... she's... Uh... No, actually."

Snape raised his eyebrows and gave him a demanding look. "What's wrong with her? Besides being Ravenclaw?"

"Nothing!" Nott interjected. "She's... Uhm..." He rubbed his face, then stuck his hands in his pockets to keep them still. "Draco Malfoy said he might be interested in her, so I thought I had better..."

"Draco Malfoy will not be able to enter that ball with anyone besides Pansy Parkinson on his arm and you know it," Snape said. He gave an exasperated breath and decided he would get nowhere being coy about this endeavor.

"Mr. Nott, I am very close friends with Davindra Collins's grandmother. She has asked that I keep a protective eye on her granddaughter while she is at Hogwarts. Perhaps you heard, Miss Collins lost her father this year. Things have been quite difficult. As far as I am aware, she has had no offers for the ball, and I know she has aspirations of going."

"You're kidding," Nott said softly with a look of surprise.

"I can assure you, I am not," Snape continued. "I'm sure you can understand my desire to keep Miss Collins from associating with the wrong people." He gave a meaningful squint to Nott. "Her grandmother would be most displeased. The best way to assure that she gets to attend the ball as she wishes, while not being placed in a situation where uninvited advances could be taken upon her, is to ensure that she goes with the right young man. I believe you are that man, Nott."

Snape finished with a thin smile as Nott continued to stare at him with open-mouthed wonder.

"Have you not found her attractive and intelligent?" he continued to press when the boy said nothing.

"Uh, yeah... she's gorgeous, she's wickedly smart," Nott stammered. "But what makes you think she would go with me? I've never really even spoken to her."

"As I said," Snape uttered with exasperation, "no one else has asked her. But it may not remain that way for long."

"I don't know, sir. There's probably other blokes who would be better... I think I'm going to skip it..."

Snape came off the desk and grabbed Nott's shirt. "That's not an option," he said with icy calm. "You're going to escort Miss Collins to the ball, you are going to be a perfect gentleman, and you are going to show her a perfectly lovely time, and that will be the end of it. Do you understand, Nott?"

Nott's wide brown eyes blinked rapidly as he attempted to lean away from Snape's menacing form. "Well, if I really don't have a choice."

He let the young man go. "I'm doing you a favor, Nott," Snape reinstated his calm delivery. "It's obvious you like Miss Collins, you yourself are a very amiable boy, and she is in need of a date. I don't see how a more perfect arrangement could ever be created."

"How do I ask her? What do I say?"

Snape honestly wasn't sure about the details of that endeavor. His own tactics for finding a date usually just required an exchange of money and the use of a spare room for an hour.

"Have one of the other boys help you, if you must. But, Nott," he continued in a silky, menacing voice, "there are some rules that you must adhere to or else dire consequences will befall you. I mean it when I say you are to be a perfect gentleman. If I find you've laid one finger on her outside of a dance or a polite gesture, I'll hand you over to Filch for an unofficial detention. After the evening is over and I hear that she had a nice time and all went well, you will find great favors bestowed upon you. And tell no one about this arrangement, Nott, especially not her." Snape stepped closer to him. "Death Eaters keep their word and their silence. Your father would know that."

Young Nott had stood staring at Snape with concerned wonder, but there was no doubt he had taken in every word.

"So, what will you be doing now, Mr. Nott?" Snape asked with a twisted smile.

He cleared his throat and returned a look of consigned certainty. "I guess I'll be asking Davindra Collins to the Yule Ball."