Another Dark Star

Chapter 11 – 7th year.

Professor Snape sighed as he reread the parchment on his desk. This was almost certainly the worst part of his job, he thought to himself and not for the reasons most people thought. Sadira appeared in the open doorway and knocked on the door.

“You wanted to see me Sir?” she asked tentatively.

“Yes Miss Prewett. Please close the door and sit down.” He replied in a tired voice.

“I’m afraid there is no easy way to convey the grave news I have to impart so for your sake I shall simply get it out of the way as quickly as possible. Today I received an owl from your Grandmother. It says your mother is dead; murdered.” He paused a moment to allow her to digest what she had heard.

“I offer you my condolences. I understand this is a difficult time for you and have therefore arranged to lighten your workload as much as possible for a while without affecting your NEWTs. The Headmaster has arranged for you to stay with your cousins, the Weasleys, until such time as you are ready and able to make your own living arrangements.” He continued. He was no good at sympathy and wanted to distract her from another emotional display.

“That bastard. It was him, I know it.” She growled.

He was surprised. He expected tears not fury. Also, in nearly seven years she had rarely used such foul language, at least not in his earshot.

“To whom do you refer Ms Prewett?” he inquired.

“Who else? My fucking stepfather.” She snapped.

Normally he would not tolerate such an outburst from a student; however he knew what it was like to lose a parent so young and was prepared to give her some leeway given what she was going through on top of everything she had already endured.

“Ms Prewett, you may wish to calm yourself before you go throwing out accusations like that. There is no evidence as yet to say who is responsible.” He warned her.

“Please Sir, don’t patronise me. We both know what you saw in my head, and that was just a small sample. Neil was cruel, abusive, alcoholic and hateful. On more than one occasion he threatened to kill one or both of us.” She said angrily.

“No-one else would have a motive to kill my mum. She was too quiet and weak to make any enemies. Some brave Gryffindor!” she added bitterly.

“Nevertheless, the authorities are still making their inquiries. You are of course safe here at Hogwarts if you are concerned the murderer may wish to harm you.” She snorted at this.

“And if the authorities come here in the course of their investigation I shall of course inform them of your suspicions.” He told her.

She had regained her control and was cold and polite again, her face the impassive mask he recognised as much from her as others did in him. She had shut out the pain as usual.

“Very well, thank you for informing me Sir. I will return to my room now if there is nothing more.” She replied calmly and nodded a small bow before exiting his office.

‘Strange girl.’ he thought to himself.

‘Look who’s talking.’ his conscience replied.

Snape was again prowling the corridors late that night when he sensed a presence in the hallway. He stopped and listened; no footsteps. He raised his wand light; no-one around. He put out his light and waited for his prey.

He felt a body come close to where he stood. He reached out and grabbed it, slamming it into the wall; wand raised expecting to see Quirrell. He was shocked to see Sadira dressed head to toe in form fitting black, Ebony wand poised. On her feet, black trainers muffled her footfalls and her long uncontrollable hair was forced back into a French plait. She looked quite the little assassin.

“And what are you doing up at this hour and so far from Slytherin House?” he hissed menacingly in her ear.

“I’m leaving, I’ve had enough.” She replied.

“What do you mean leaving?” he queried, puzzled.

“I’m quitting school, I’m going home. I’ve had enough,” she replied. “And get out of my head!” she snapped as he tried pushing for answers using Legilimency.

“I think you are deluding yourself with plans of a vengeful murderous rampage.” he said in a calmer, but still deadly tone.

“Believe me, you aren’t capable. You have too much good in that little heart of yours to truly go through with it and you would only succeed in putting yourself in danger by leaving yourself alone in the pursuit of a suspected murderer.”

She opened her mouth to protest but he silenced her with a finger on her lips.

“Besides which, I would hate to see one of Hogwarts’ most gifted students throw her life and gifts away for vengeance, which is never satisfying I assure you; It only eats at you inside. Also, your mother never got to finish Hogwarts and worked very hard to ensure you got the opportunity to do so. Do you not think it would be insulting to her memory to leave before achieving your NEWTs, which I predict will be exceptional?” He admonished, and let her go.

He watched her slide down the wall to sit, elbows on knees, on the floor. He also noticed the brief glance she gave him as she licked her lips where he had touched them. For a moment she sat completely still and silent, then as suddenly as before she shook with sobs, tears rolling down her face.

“It’s not fair. He took everything good in my life and ruined it. He broke her and I swore he wouldn’t break me but now he’s ruined everything and he’s going to get away with it. It’s all my fault. Maybe if I’d let you report those bruises she’d still be here.” She sobbed.

Again Snape felt compelled to help this poor young woman who life had seen fit to deal the shitty end of the stick time and again and was seeing her great strength crumble under her grief. He knelt in front of her and pulled her head onto his shoulder, allowing her to cling to him once more.

Neither said a word as they held on tightly to each other. He stroked her hair soothingly and caught a whiff of her scent again; Honeysuckle and something else. ‘Roses? Merlin, this girl had old-fashioned taste in perfume.’ Yet somehow it suited her; delicate yet enduring, also highly alluring. Those flowers were used in a variety of attraction potions, though he was unsure whether she chose them for this reason or simply because she had a fondness for them. He realised she had stopped crying and was stroking him in the same rhythm he was her.

Suddenly he felt too warm and noticed too late he was kneeling between her thighs, too close to her, her ample chest pressed against his. He stood up quickly as she noticed the same thing and blushed. He hoped she hadn’t noticed the uncomfortable lump that had appeared in his trousers as he swept his robes around himself to cover his embarrassing state of arousal and to regain his composure.

She stood but didn’t back away from him. Instead she moved closer, as though facing him off. But the look on her face was soft, not angry as she stared up at him with teary dark green eyes. She found herself getting lost in his unfathomable black eyes. She was already breathing hard and feeling hot from having him so close to her, nestled between her legs.

“Thank you Professor; for everything.” She whispered huskily.

He expected her to turn and leave but she caught him completely off guard by leaning up to him and kissing his lips softly. He was paralysed with shock and fear. Fear of discovery and fear of his feelings. Certainly he was the epitome of professionalism, but he was also just a man, and a very lonely one, and she had grown into a very desirable young woman in his opinion.

She held the kiss for no longer than a minute, reaching up and softly, tentatively stroking his hair before pulling away just before he could lose all his resolve and give in to her embrace.

“Goodnight Sir.” she whispered and raced off back down the corridor.

Snape decided he must be being punished by the fates for his transgressions in his youth. His life was getting progressively more difficult; what with Potter and his merry band of miscreants, Quirrell the sneak, and the Head Girl going crazy and trying to get him fired for disgraceful conduct. As much as he would have liked to start on the scotch, he knew that it would be a monumental mistake to allow his control to slip and his mind wander freely. Especially as it was wont to wander down the corridor to the Head Girl’s chamber.

No, a Calming Draught, and a fairly weak one, would have to suffice. It was the Hallowe’en feast and he would need it to put up with the irritating little snots high on too much sugar.

He tried not to keep staring at where Sadira was sat, but was pleasantly surprised to find her employing the same tactic. Feeling smug, he returned to the conversation Professor Sinistra was trying to engage him in and noted a twinge of jealousy pass over the girls face. As dangerous as the game was, he found it amusing to watch the girl’s attraction to him.

He was grateful he had taken a weaker draught as his game of look-away was cut short by Quirrell bursting in, blathering on about a troll. In the ensuing panic, he realised this made a perfect distraction, so slipped away to check that Quirrell didn’t try anything funny on the fourth floor.


Later, Sadira was doing her rounds of the corridors once the Headmaster decided there was no further danger, when she heard hushed voices and saw Filch the Caretaker jogging down a corridor with an armful of bloody rags.

She crept closer to the room he had just exited and gasped audibly when she saw Snape on a chair with his leg raised, bloodied and mangled, trousers shredded. He heard the sound and looked up, catching her gaping in confusion and concern.

“Are you alright Sir?” she asked, stepping closer to him.

“Do I bloody look alright, Miss Prewett?” he snapped irritably.

“What happened?” she asked, concerned.

“None of your business, back to your room.” He snapped.

“Look, I don’t really care what happened, but you’re bleeding. Just let me help you.” She replied.

“I don’t need your help, go back to bed.” He growled but she had already lifted the bowl of potion and a cloth.

“Give me your leg.” she said softly, gently taking hold of his ankle and resting the leg in her lap and carefully tending to his wounds.

He wasn’t sure which was worse, the pain from the cuts or the pleasure of having her soft cool little hands on his skin. He watched her work in silent discomfort as she chewed on her lip endearingly as she concentrated on her task.

She was a little red in the cheeks herself as she tried to think about anything other than touching him as her hands moved slowly up his leg toward his knee. She paused in her ministrations and slid a hand under the fabric of his trousers to the inside of his thigh. His eyes widened as for one agonising moment she stroked the skin; then flushing, removed her hand and turned away to the bowl. She collected the clean bandages and proceeded to gently but firmly wrap them around his wounded limb.

“Very good, Miss Prewett. Have you considered a career in Healing?” he asked when he felt he could trust his voice again. She laughed.

“No, I don’t have enough patience to deal with idiots who get themselves into scrapes.” He raised his brow at this remark.

“Not that I’m calling you an idiot of course Sir.” She amended apologetically.

“What do you intend to do when you finish your NEWTs?” he asked conversationally.

“Auror Training.” She told him proudly.

“Really?” he asked surprised.

“Yes, I want to bring justice to murdering scum like Neil.” She replied spitefully.

“I see. Thank you for your help Miss Prewett. I trust I have your discretion in this matter?” It was not a question.

“Of course Sir. I wouldn’t dream of breaking your confidence. And please, call me Sadira.” She replied, again resting a hand on his knee.

“Got them Professor...Oh!” Filch remarked as he entered the room with more cloths and a bottle of ointment.

“That will not be necessary Filch. As you can see, the wound is dressed and I am fine.” He said as Sadira jumped away looking guilty.

Filch leered at the professor suggestively.

“Oh yes, Sir. You look fine to me!” He replied; disappearing with Mrs Norris before Snape had the opportunity to launch into him or defend himself.

“Now Miss Prewett, you will retire to your room.” He told her sternly.

“Yes Sir. Goodnight and get well soon.” She sighed over her shoulder as she left with a flick of her chestnut curls.